Oh shit: I really am old enough to have a teenager
When you’re in the mix of diapers and tantrums and first grade plays and Toothfairy charades, you really can’t envision your children as teenagers. We get caught up in the thick of life in the moment — as it should be — and it seems impossible to envision our kids as these independent, intellectually expressive beings.
7 tips for helping your child focus on their health — not the number on the scale
Throughout my elementary years I was a pudgy kid. By the time my lingering baby fat had fallen off I had learned to think of myself as overweight, unattractive, and lazy. I wore layers to hide my body, never went swimming in a group, and was a chronic dieter until my early twenties when I essentially stopped eating altogether. I eventually climbed out of that hole but here I am at twenty-six and I find myself feeling like that fat kid all too easily.
The magic of childhood is kind of totally freaky
Why do we insist on scaring the living daylights out of our children with the Magic of Childhood? It’s no wonder they’re all in a hurry to grow up. You would be too, if every time a milestone or major holiday came around it was marked by somebody sneaking into your home or bedroom at night, and either leaving something behind or taking a body part of yours.
5 ways being a parent is like being in a 24/7 mosh pit
Five years ago I celebrated St. Patrick’s Day at a Dropkick Murphys show. I was 36 weeks pregnant with my daughter, and thanks to pregnancy boobs and some very nice bouncers I was allowed to sit behind the bar to sip ginger ale and munch on soda crackers while I watched the show. This past weekend I once again celebrated St. Patrick’s Day at a Dropkick Murphys show and the experience was somewhat different. Instead of being on the sidelines watching and thinking about what I would do if I were on the floor, I was there in the thick of it — jumping, singing, being loud and rowdy. It was fantastic.
Odd parent out: how it feels when your kid isn’t anything like you at all
Isn’t it interesting how we struggle with our own identities through our children? We want them to be like us. By that, I mean, our vision of who we are — you know, all the good stuff. I know that as my own daughter has grown and developed her unique sense of self, her individuality, her very strong-willed personality, I have always looked for those moments of me in her.
What to expect when you’re the first of your friends to have kids
Throughout my pregnancy I’d sit with my friends, often at a bar, sipping Orange Juice and Seven-Up and suspiciously eyeing my other female friends who weren’t drinking. I hopefully watched drinking patterns to see whether or not I could “score” a maternity leave buddy for at least part of my year as a stay at home mom. Although I have many close friends who often act as designated driver no one was pregnant while I was, and at this point no one will have more than a few weeks of overlap time at home with me unless they are very cleverly hiding five months of pregnancy. I have a handful of mom friends who are at home right now, but they all live outside of the city and on average are a fifty-three minute drive away.
The Incident: my son was bullied for having gay parents
A few months back, I wrote that my son had never been bullied at his Texas public school. Perhaps it was inevitable, given that Waylon is in third grade now, but a week or two later there was an incident. The story unfolded over dinner at our favorite neighborhood Texmex restaurant. Waylon was well into his second bean and cheese taco when he broached the subject. “Mom, B– said that being gay is bad.”
Becoming a parent made me better at my job
As I was approaching my last year of grad school for my Master’s in English, I had been dating an awesome, goateed, tattooed locksmith for a few months. That Christmas, as I was choosing my thesis advisor and getting ready to embark on the challenge of writing a full short story collection, my body started to feel a little weird. What I thought was nerves over the impending thesis, we came to find, was actually our little droidlet beginning to grow. Surprise! The following August, my son was born.