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Since I’m on Vacation, Inventing a Title for This Totally Disjointed, Random, Blogkeeping Post Seems Like Extraordinarily Hard Work and So I’ve Decided Not to Title It at All
This isn’t a real blog post. This is a blog-keeping post. So if this is your first visit here, go here or here or here or here. You’ll be happier, I swear. Unless you don’t like reading about pee or penises or imperfect parenthood. Then you won’t be happier and you should probably get out now. Like, RUN as fast and as far from this place as you can because happiness is not possible … Continue Reading “Since I’m on Vacation, Inventing a Title for This Totally Disjointed, Random, Blogkeeping Post Seems Like Extraordinarily Hard Work and So I’ve Decided Not to Title It at All”
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To Grandmother’s House We Go
We work hard to teach our kids that gentle criticism, when used correctly, is an important tool to meet one’s needs. We also teach them that stopping at criticism isn’t enough; it’s essential to offer a reasonable solution to a problem. “Identify what’s not working,” we say, “and also tell us how you’re going to fix it.”
For example, the other night my 6-year-old expressed some dissatisfaction with the way our house and schedule are … Continue Reading “To Grandmother’s House We Go”
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Weekend Plans, Insider Trading, and Making a Cleanliness Gesture
I’m spending the weekend in Portland with my oldest baby at a dance convention. This is why:
I forgot to watch Dance Moms for inspiration before we left, though, so I’m afraid my behavior won’t be up to nagging and bullying par. This makes me feel sad. Like I’m destined to fail from the get-go. At least I’m failing in good company, though, ’cause none of the other moms I’m staying with meet the bar, … Continue Reading “Weekend Plans, Insider Trading, and Making a Cleanliness Gesture”
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Let Them Eat Cake
My mom feeds people.
It is her biological imperative.
Salmon must swim upriver to spawn. Geese must fly south for the winter. Moses must lead his flock to the promised land. And my mom must feed her people.
On Sunday afternoon, my dad called.
We were minus-three hours from kickoff for the Big Game. Greg was cleaning. The kids and I were avoiding cleaning. You know, the usual prep for a big party.
