Dear Chickadee, When you turned 10, I was dumb enough to ask the internet for their thoughts on bringing food into the movies, which---let's face it---we have always done because we are a family of hoodlums. After receiving more comments on that post than on the one where I totaled the car or when Otto and I got engaged, I sat you down and asked you if you thought that rules could be ignored whenever we felt like it, just because sometimes we bring our own snacks. You rolled your eyes. "Of course not! You always follow the rules! It's just that that rule is dumb." It brought a tear to my...
So last week I had a day where Chickadee was invited on a last-minute playdate and Monkey was just DYING from the injustice of it. I offered up half a dozen different suggestions of things we could do, just the two of us, without her, but the whining went unabated as he insisted that he NEEEEEEDED some time with his FRIIIIIENDS. I did what any good mother would do; I called up a fellow mom and invited us over to her house. (Don't you wish you lived here? I could be eating all the snacks in your pantry RIGHT NOW.) As it happened, they already had an extra boy-child over, so the three of them...
There are many things I would like to teach my children as they grow. I think that everyone should know how to swim. I think that everyone should know how to find worms and how to bait them on a hook, even if they think it's gross and only do it once. I think that everyone should know how to cook a basic meal where all four food groups are represented. I think everyone should know how to be truthful and, when the truth would be hurtful to another, how to soften it if necessary. I think everyone needs to know that life is rarely fair. I would like it very much if my children could learn that...
I did my second stint as a guest speaker in a journalism class this morning, and I am once again reminded that there is no greater privilege than shaping young minds. Wait, what? Geez, I'm sorry. Sometimes when I haven't had enough coffee, a large LOAD OF CRAP falls out of my mouth (fingers). It sounded nice, though, didn't it? Oh, I love college students. LOVE THEM! I do. Except for how they're so young and I feel like a senior citizen when I'm around them. And how they come to a 9:00 lecture and take a nap in the back of the auditorium. Yes, I saw you. And you, too. I know it's Monday, but...
The men in my life are incomparable. (I like how that word can be used to mean... pretty much whatever you'd like it to mean. It might be great! It might be terrifying!) The other night as we were finishing up dinner, I leaned over and kissed Otto. I don't remember why. Probably just because he's kissable. Monkey saw this and responded with delight, because he's going to grow up to be a perverted voyeur. Er, I mean, because he is a little ray of sunshine. "Again!" he demanded. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Kiss AGAIN!" So we kissed again. Hey, there's no need to beg or anything. "AGAIN!"...
I may have mentioned that I accompanied my daughter's class on a field trip on Monday. There's really no way to describe heading into the woods with twenty-four fourth graders, some of whom believe that nature ends at the edge of the playground. Chickadee is turning ten soon, and I keep asking her, "So, when do I become an embarrassment? When will the very idea of me daring to show my face within a mile radius strike fear into your heart?" Make no mistake---I've already started becoming stupid. Very, very stupid. And demanding. [Insert huffy sigh here.] But so far, she laughs at the idea of...
Dear Sir and Madam: It it with a heavy heart and much regret that I feel the need to inform you of my decision to tender my resignation as Greatest Mother In The World. We all know that lately I've simply become unable to keep up with the demands of the position, and I wish to fall back at this time to something more befitting my capabilities. This morning I feel that perhaps Mom Who Does Just Enough might be a more suitable choice. Or---should you feel it a better selection---Serviceable Mom. I shall leave it to your discretion as to which would be most useful to the organization as a...
A while ago my friend and fellow mom to a "different" child, Susan Wagner, wrote a piece called What It's Like which I have often, secretly (until now) gone back to read when I need a little boost of solidarity. Susan says: The hardest thing for me about parenting Henry has been the sense that every time I get my feet under me, the ground moves again and I am left struggling to get my balance. I think Henry is doing well, I can see that he’s doing well, but now I am worried all over again, and I am worried that maybe I’m not really helping as much or as well as I could be. One of the...
As is so often the case, the moment where I hit the wall---and it happened yesterday morning right before I wrote that post, which was right after my darling son took a swig of the medication I offered and then promptly gagged and spat two teaspoons of liquid somehow, inexplicably, into a gallon of mess on himself, the couch, and the carpet---is the moment where things start to improve for no reason at all. Throughout the day I read through your kind comments and grumbled to myself at every suggestion of shakes or protein powder or anything else. Because he was eating NOTHING. He was...
