One square away from despair.
Never forget the baby wipes!… Read More One square away from despair.
Category: toddlerhood
I do ME-self!
I need to rethink my life’s social story.… Read More I do ME-self!
I have a rash on my head.
There are so many topics they don’t prepare you for in those birthing and parenting books, so many things I wish someone had been honest with me about before I had Nora, and to that point I say to my friend two months away from giving birth to her first child, “Greer, this one is… Read More I have a rash on my head.
Did you “eeear” me?
It’s hard to trust that his progress won’t regress at some point because the, truth is, it might since it has before. Yet, even if it does, I now know he can do the work…… Read More Did you “eeear” me?
Our summer vacation
We were walking through our neighborhood, holding hands, my mind was wandering. I lost track of the conversation as I felt mesmerized by seed fluff floating by and underfoot. It brought me back to my walk with Nora through the snow in this very spot only six months before. I looked up at our favorite… Read More Our summer vacation
Acute exhaustion.
Bilateral acute otitis media (a.k.a screaming nonverbal child, a.k.a. maternal tinnitus, a.k.a. sudden depression), better known as double ear infection and raging fevers. “Poor baby, he must be in so much pain.” He is and so am I. Physically from being headbutted, scratched, and trying to hold forty pounds of a thrashing body so he… Read More Acute exhaustion.
It’s a mother of a day.
The day started with being awake for two hours and longing for coffee as I awaited the “surprise” breakfast in bed. I listened to the chaos in the other room and wondered how long till someone cried. All the while feeling guilty for not being more appreciative on the day I’ve been told that everyone… Read More It’s a mother of a day.
Fork you and your words.
Owen was two. He was speaking seventeen words. He told his dad he loved him. I barely could get him to say “mama”. Home with him every hour of the day and he tells his father, “I love you.” I was Barbara’s jealous resentment. He rarely kissed. If he did it was without using his… Read More Fork you and your words.
Have fun with yourself!
“Have fun at school today.” “OK, mama, have fun with yourself.” “OK, honey – WHAT?!” That was two years ago that I had that exchange with Nora. From early on her literal interpretations of common phrases and sayings has had me in fits, elicited serious misgivings, and inspired epiphanies about the English language. It’s hard… Read More Have fun with yourself!
The doll will show him.
Nora said, “I want a baby doll that looks like Owen so he knows I love him and I can hold him.” I hugged her and bit back tears, “You are so kind…he knows you love him. Someday he’ll say it to you too but, trust me, he knows that you love him. He loves… Read More The doll will show him.
When a duck says “cock”.
The doorbell rings for a package and Owen checks to make sure it’s the postal carrier he likes. It is, I breathe a sigh of relief that Owen won’t be stripping in anger, and I greet Dave as I open the door. He says hello to Owen, “Hey, buddy, good job keeping your clothes on.” … Read More When a duck says “cock”.
Whirling dervish of futility
I’m a whirling dervish of futility lately. My calendar looks like a pixelated Rorschach blot. If I went color blind from some sudden aphasia from the stroke (I’m fated to have if I keep up this pace) our whole world would fall apart. So as I organized, color coded appointments once again to match the… Read More Whirling dervish of futility
Mama, the baby is stuck again!
“What NOW, Owen?” I’m not proud of that lament but I’m driven to it by noon on a good day. Considering I’ve been up since 3 a.m., that makes it happy hour in some time zones for those without children. So imagine my surprise when I discovered my baby stuck in the cat door. It’s… Read More Mama, the baby is stuck again!
Papa playtime requires protective gear
My husband, Jamie, is meticulous and cautious by nature and trade. He spends his days as an engineer and prides himself on being thorough, accurate, and heading off trouble. Then there’s his play time with Owen. Owen has no sense of fear. He’ll jump from anything and run head long without sensing any imminent danger… Read More Papa playtime requires protective gear
Rock, Paper, Broken Glass
There’s certain truths of parenting, the Murphy’s Law of raising humans, that when you absolutely need things to go your way they probably won’t. Forgot the extra diaper? The baby is going to crap and play with it while he’s in the shopping cart. Your kid forgot to take their lunch to school? Today is… Read More Rock, Paper, Broken Glass
The boy who chases cars.
Owen is obsessed with cars. He runs out to grab them up the moment his eyes open. I hear his feet slapping on the hardwood floor and then him running to our bed once he has them. I’m awoken by him launching himself headfirst into my neck, rubbing his forehead on me in his version… Read More The boy who chases cars.
My ass and I don’t care if you stare.
I’m done hating the mirror. My dumpy forty-something ass is as done with you as I am. Stare at it all you want. It doesn’t talk back but I will. I’m a mom, a writer, an educated woman who cusses, and that woman is all out of &^%#$ to care about your opinion on how… Read More My ass and I don’t care if you stare.
The mom paradox: internal solitary confinement
I don’t want to be here today. I don’t want to be anywhere. It’s too hard to be a mom today. It’s too hard to do this in my internal solitary confinement any longer. I wish I wasn’t myself. I wish I was that mom. The mom society expects me to be. A mom who… Read More The mom paradox: internal solitary confinement
“Re-weird-iss” people and other dangers.
I was taking a walk with the kids. Which means collecting rocks, hugging trees, avoiding cigarette butts, dodging patches of phlegm (side note STOP SPITTING, it’s disgusting!), and my anxiety ratchets up with every step. Nora is running to each tree in the parkway, skipping between them, as she turns to me breathlessly, “I just… Read More “Re-weird-iss” people and other dangers.
Puppetry of the Penis, a.k.a. our son
Puppetry of the Penis, hands down one of the weirdest, yet funniest, live performances I’ve ever seen. I remember thinking at the time that I would probably never see something quite as strange again in my life. Then I had children. Post bathtime our son likes to pull on his scrotum and contort it into… Read More Puppetry of the Penis, a.k.a. our son
Consent starts with parents.
Nora is grinning and bearing her belly. I look up from writing and smile, “Uh-oh, is my hand going to tickle you?” A squeal of laughter and she’s off running after answering, “YES!” Owen joins in and chases after her giggling, “Nawnie-nawnie-na-na, sista’!!” We tickle her tummy and then Nora turns to Owen, “Oo-ie?! Do you… Read More Consent starts with parents.
Your entitled to hear me say “no”.
“We don’t always get what we want!” Not my finest, or most original, moment of parenting. Not the kindest either. Shared illness amongst us, lack of sleep, and the infinite meltdowns of a verbally struggling two year old had me barking clichéd guilt trips at my five year old daughter this past week. Even with… Read More Your entitled to hear me say “no”.
Toddlerhood: A test of a parents love
“What’s So Terrible About Two?” The benign article asked. My brain screamed, “Really? REALLY, assholes?!” They meant to be uplifting in their message, they meant to give people hope, to show that it isn’t that bad. At least I think so but I had trouble reading it as Owen was busy pulling a skintag off… Read More Toddlerhood: A test of a parents love
Kelso Kids 
You must be logged in to post a comment.