Kids
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Road trip with my boys… all by myself
Part of being married means you’ve got to split holidays. So for Blake and me, it means we alternate Thanksgiving and Christmas between Georgia and Florida. And this year, it’s was Thanksgiving in Florida. However, this year presented a small complication… Blake recently started a new job… and his new restaurant happens to be open for Thanksgiving… and Thanksgiving happens to be one of their busiest days. And so not wanting to miss the holiday with my family I decided I would brave the trip solo with the boys. Yes, you heard right. Despite all of the prior experiences that would point to this not being a good idea, I…
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What to do, what to do…
My son. Where do I begin. He is a charming, loving, intelligent, ball of fire… who happens to be manipulative, disobedient and slick. Oh, what a combination! Now I love my son to death, but I’m not one of those parents who thinks they have a perfect child. No, I’m the kind of parent who looks at the other parents who are forming judgements to themselves and agrees with them (audibly)… “yeah, he’s bad.” And I don’t say this because I’ve given up or I think it’s acceptable, I say this because I feel good in my skin when I am authentic. And I truly believe that my kid can…
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Nightmare at the Public Restroom
It can make an easygoing parent un-nerved… and a germaphobe parent down right frightened – the public restroom. I am a recovering germaphobe. My second child has helped me to move past some of my old anxieties. But put me in a public bathroom with the kids and I start getting nervous. So yesterday we were on the road and made a pit stop at Wendy’s. Brogan had to go potty, and so off we went. Now Brogan is in an “independence” phase, which means he wants to do everything (he wants to do) on his own. Using public restrooms is one of those new solo acts. So when we…
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Words of Wit and Wisdom
So I’m not sure what I expected communicating with a 3-year-old would be like before mine could talk. But I am daily amused and amazed (and occasionally appalled) by his wit, his intellect and his sass. I think all parents go through this when their children start speaking like little adults. They’ve soaked up words and phrases from school and family members (and you) and TV, and then those little brains get to processing and they blurt out something way beyond their years. A couple funny ones from Brogan recently… the italicized words reflect real inflection in his voice. The funniest part to me may actually be the way he…
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The Email from School
The email from school… similar to the call from school – the heart drop that follows seeing the school’s name on the caller ID – it’s not what a parent wants to see in their inbox. So today’s email from Brogan’s preschool director went something like this… I told Brogan I was going to email you to let you know about his behavior today walking to and from the library. He was refusing to acknowledge whether or not he heard us talking to him, calling his name, etc. On the way back he was walking across an area closer to the road so I called his name to stop. He…
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He gets it from me?
Ever since Brogan’s feisty little personality started to present itself – along with the mischief and hyper-activity, I was certain this came from my husband. I had heard the stories from his parents about he and his twin brother always fighting; I still hear from his dad (to Blake) the infamous words, “you pay for your raising when you raise your own.” So surely Brogan’s traits were courtesy of his paternal chromosomes. And if it didn’t come from my husband, then it must have come straight out of thin air. Made sense to me. And then one day at work, I was telling one my hundreds of Brogan stories, when…
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Why I’m Not the Soccer Mom I Hoped I’d Be
Soccer mom – it’s what a lot of us strive to be – myself included. Ever since I found out there was tot soccer in our area, and Brogan expressed an interest in playing, I was pumped to get this title. I didn’t have great expectations for this 6-week “season.” I knew there would not be any real games, just “sessions” where the kids play, run and kick around a soccer ball. I was happy to ease into it all and thrilled to see Brogan in what I thought would be his element. But what being a soccer mom has meant for me is embarrassment and shame. Trying to deal…
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Interview with a Three-year-old
It’s a pretty ridiculous idea, but as I was swinging the boys on their play set and I was asking Brogan questions about his day, I thought, what if I just started asking him random questions – like I was interviewing him? Wonder what sort of answers I’ll get… Me: Brogan, what is mommy’s favorite thing to do? Brogan: Cook. But you’re just a home cook. Daddy’s a chef. Me: What’s daddy’s favorite thing to do? Brogan: Put the boys to bed Me: What’s your favorite thing to do? Brogan: Play fire trucks woo woo woo [spot on sound effects] Me: Why do you like playing fire trucks? Brogan: Because…
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I Speak Mommy
Foreign language was never my strong suit. I took two years of German in high school and all I can remember is how to count to 10, “guten tag” and “ich habe die nase vol!” (“I’ve had it up to here,” for all of you non-German speakers) – sorry Mr. Brown. They say emersion is the best way to pick up another language. I’d have to agree. Turns out that after spending three years in a home with a baby (and then another), I now fluently speak mommy. The problem is, as I’m sure happens to other folks who are bi-lingual, I’ve been finding myself intertwining the two languages when…
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Leaving the warm and cozy den of ignorance
Sometimes it would be easier to live in ignorance – to be oblivious. Much easier than dealing with reality, especially when the reality is that you have made some serious mistakes as a parent. Before I was a parent, I felt certain that I would be no-nonsense. I would be tough. I had a clear vision of what was right and wrong; what was acceptable and not acceptable. With clarity like that, it should be easy to be consistent, right? Well it’s not. Before I was a parent, I knew things like “no” would mean no, period. That you don’t coddle, that you don’t give in. That you see right…
