As a parent in 2018, it’s easier than ever before to preserve memories of our kids. We carry devices in our pockets that can (and do) capture thousands of images of them. We take video clips of their precious voices and ridiculous dance moves, and share their “firsts” and their best quotes on Facebook.
But recently I’ve wondered whether the thousands of disparate parts add up to an in-depth picture of who our kids are. My memory is terrible, and I have this nagging fear that this whole phase of life with small kids will just be one huge blur. Even if I write down all the major milestones (which I’ve done at best a half-assed job with), there are countless aspects of life with my kids that are so commonplace, it doesn’t occur to me to make a note of them. I’m sure I’ll always remember them.
But then my husband will make a comment about that period when my son insisted on bringing every single stuffed animal from his bed downstairs with him each morning… and I stare blankly Read more ›
Before we were married, my husband’s signature move before Christmas was buying exactly zero presents until around December 22nd, and then having one manic night of shopping at all the stores with crazy all-night hours in the final run-up to the big day.
I used to just see it as one of his lovable quirks. And it always seemed to work out fine. If the gifts didn’t make their way to the nieces and nephews until halfway through January, it was just chalked up to typical uncle behavior.
But a funny thing happens when you get married. Along with combining your households and finances, you end up merging Christmas lists too. And by merging, I mean the wife magically becomes responsible for all the presents.
It’s not that my husband has EVER asked or even hinted that I should take care of the gifts for the people on his list. But now that the presents come from us as a couple, my anxiety levels *do not* permit me to sit idly by and hope that my husband finds something fitting for all his relatives at Kohl’s at 1:00 in the morning.
So my holiday anxiety levels went up a notch after we got married, and then up several more once kids came into the picture. Read more ›
I’m pretty obsessed with fall… like just shy of pumpkin-spice-latte-deodorant-wearing obsessed (and yes, that’s a thing). Sandwiched in between the long stretch of sweatiness and mosquitoes and the cabin fever-inducing frigid weather, we get this little window of perfection. Crisp morning air gives way to pleasant afternoons. We bust out the sweaters and drink apple cider and everything is magical.
The real object of my obsession is the changing color of the fall leaves. I’m a full-fledged leaf stalker. I’m always seeking that moment of optimal viewing, when most of the trees have turned but before the early changers have dropped all their leaves. I stress about whether a lack of rainfall will mute the fall colors, and check foliage tracking websites for leaf peak forecasts (nerd alert, amirite?)
Fall is an in-your-face reminder of how quickly the beautiful things in life can slip away. I took a picture last year of this gorgeous tree – a vibrant yellow that just glowed brilliantly when the sun lit it from behind. I passed it a week later and the tree was virtually bare.
Watching the transition from trees exploding with fiery color to streets littered with crunching leaves practically forces you to focus on everything awesome and fleeting about this season of life. Fall has been giving me the kick in the a** I needed to start following my own advice to be in a mindset of gratitude, which has been a struggle sometimes with two kids under five.
It’s not a perfect metaphor, though. The seasons cycle. If I don’t consume enough pumpkin-spice lattes Read more ›
It seems like not a week goes by that I don’t see a heartbreaking post about a young person’s experience of being bullied, often with tragic consequences. My heart breaks for all the kids who are suffering, and at the thought that my own kids might experience this one day.
But my heart no longer breaks for that girl in the picture, my adolescent self. She suffered too. There were deep emotional wounds from my own bullies’ words. For a time, the pain they inflicted colored my entire world. But the cruelty of those kids long ago lost its power to hurt me.
My family moved from the city to the suburbs when I was ten years old. Geographically the move wasn’t far at all, but it felt like the firm closing of the chapter of my childhood, a care-free time of being oblivious to things like Read more ›
In our current political climate of extreme divisions, things that we can all agree on seem few and far between. But basically everyone on the planet (except apparently Woody Allen) can come together around this: Harvey Weinstein is a disgusting garbage pile of a human, and his actions are horrific.
Harvey Weinstein is only the repulsive tip of a dark, huge, and hideous iceberg. But the iceberg is coming to the surface. Women are coming forward and sharing their stories.
The flood of #metoo declarations is heart-wrenching, the scope of the suffering almost unbearable. But it’s also a call to action. We *have* to take the momentum of this movement and make sure it means something. Call me a naïve idealist, but Read more ›
Most of the time I think about parenting from my own perspective – making decisions about how to best raise my kids. What’s the best way to potty-train? Am I striking the right balance of discipline and affection? Will I ever get my son to eat a vegetable?
But sometimes I stop and think about the relationship in reverse. It’s not just that my son and daughter are my kids. I am their mom. 30 or 40 years from now when my kid’s spouse/child/therapist asks what their mom was like, that person they’ll be talking is ME. Holy crap!
There are always these moments in books, movies and television where a character reflects on their mother – some oft-repeated piece of wisdom, the smell of her perfume, the swish of her skirt as she’d move around the house. I’m just picturing my kids, in contrast, wistfully recalling their mother’s messy mom bun and old ratty yoga pants Read more ›
So you’re the Partner of a Stay-at-Home Parent. Like most modern parents, you probably struggle to find the right balance between your work life and family life. The cliché of the man returning from work and putting his feet up and leaving all childcare responsibilities to the womenfolk has largely been left in the past. So I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you, POSAHP (do you mind if I call you that?), are an involved parent who sincerely tries to be as supportive as possible to your stay-at-home husband/wife/partner.
I’ve been blessed with an amazing POSAHP myself. He’s understanding, extremely involved with the kids, and a ridiculously good cook (I’m talking drool-worthy meatballs, y’all). But even if you are in the upper echelon of POSAHPs (which I’ll go ahead and assume you are since you’re reading my blog), there are certain realities of life as a SAHP that are just hard for you to fully grasp.
I certainly don’t claim to speak for all the SAHPs of the world, but I suspect that I’m far from alone in the struggles that have me wanting to pull my hair out by the end of the week (or halfway through Tuesday). So here are four truths that would be helpful for you to understand.
1) We Just Want you to Take the Kids
I know, I know – when you work full-time, you have a super limited window to get stuff done at home. Your weekend hit list may include mowing the grass, mulching, and reorganizing the garage. And all that stuff matters (I guess?). But I can almost guarantee Read more ›