Driving home recently my three-year-old shouted, “I’m so excited to go apple picking!” This excitement, the daily question of when we’re also going pumpkin picking, and his intent to wish people wherever we go a happy fall means a dream is coming true: I’ve passed on my love of this season. Double win, the baby’s fascination with our autumnal wreath and other decor tells me he’s on the right track too. I love the small parenting victories. Continue reading
Once upon a time there was a mommy who signed her child up to do fun activities. Fun activities he asked and said he wanted to do. Each night before the fun activities, the mommy would prepare all the needed things. Clothes picked out. Snacks packed. Alarms set so the mommy wouldn’t oversleep (as if that were even possible for a mommy of small children with no reverence for sleeping in). Continue reading
When my firstborn was seven months old, we went on vacation for a week. A feat, for sure, and full of good memories, but when we returned home, he looked so much older. What the heck was in that beach air?
Now, I look at his baby brother who is too quickly nearing that same age and decide time is a fleeting, fickle thing. “They grow up so fast,” new parents hear from well-meaning family, friends, and strangers. “Cherish every moment.” Continue reading
Last year on Mother’s Day I got to give my mom the news that I was joining the ranks of motherhood. As a woman who adores and spoils (in the best possible way) all of her grand-babies, you can imagine that she took the news
all but jumping up and down, shouting for joy rather well.
That technically first Mother’s Day for me was full of excited anticipation for the little one who might one day proudly gift me handprint crafts, weed bouquets, and sticky breakfasts in bed. Now that he’s here and though a little young for those things yet, he leaves me no less in awe of the fact that this is my life now. I am a mom. I get to be his mom. I could not be happier. Motherhood is awesome.
But it is also hard. Continue reading
“You better watch out, you better not cry, better not pout, I’m telling you why…”
Christmas: That magical time of year when we bribe children into good behavior under the watchful eye of Santa Claus and his army, a.k.a. the Elf on the Shelf. As children discover whether their efforts result in toys or lumps of coal, parents will search for new strategies to coerce them into being good during the off-season. Or, if they’re anything like my parents, gift-wrapped reward or no, they’ll have the audacity to expect good behavior year round. Still, if it was Christmas-related, my parents weren’t above playing the Santa card. Which brings me to a tale of one of my Christmases long, long ago. Continue reading
I am no Scrooge. Christmas is my favorite holiday. It’s also the only time of year I find snowfall acceptable, then I’m bah humbugging with the best of them.
Besides weather, the common Christmas complaints surround commercialism. This includes how early displays show up in stores and how shoppers trample over the true meaning of the day to get the best deals on the most stuff. Growing up, I loved waking on Christmas morning to find gifts under the tree that weren’t there the night before, regardless of what I believed about jolly old St. Nick. After all, what child doesn’t like presents?
But even then I loved traditions that were less about getting. Continue reading