It’s time to remind ourselves that we are much more likely to get something if we ask for it appropriately the first time. Remember when your toddler would want apple juice but you gave it in the wrong sippy cup and it was like Apocalypse Now? If he had just said “apple juice in the green cup” we could have avoided this mess entirely. Once one of my twins sobbed for many many minutes because he wanted his pizza in a triangle … which was achieved when I took it out of the oven and then cut it. This translates directly into our Mother’s Day plans. If you want to wake up late, have a hot cup of coffee in a quiet house, and *then* see the kids for their handpainted flower pots and homemade cards
Those damn Facebook memories. That damn TimeHop app. All it does is give me a daily reminder, complete with notification on my phone screen, of how fast it all goes. This week, it was a glimpse back to the Easters of yesteryear, complete with My Little Pony toys and footie pajamas and twins with binkies and blankies. Now, there’s deodorant and cold hard cash in the Easter baskets. I can’t even remember the last time we had a binky in this house (we do still have the blankies). It.just.goes.so.fast. How do you make time slow down? And do you really want to? I’m not trying to wish it away, but 7th grade is kind of the 10th circle of hell and I’ll be happy when it’s behind us in a few more mont
As I wade into my 40s, I realize that my multi-tasking skills are not as sharp as they once were. I definitely have to turn the radio down to find a house number - who knew that hearing and seeing were so intricately connected? - and half-watching an episode of Grey’s Anatomy while I fold laundry means that either I have no idea what’s happening on the screen OR the kids’ clothing gets sorted incorrectly, leading to too-short pants on one kid and morning frustration that no one has time for. And, there is a growing list of things I can’t care about. I have to pick and choose the topics about which I am informed, because the things I *have* to care about - school choice, is it allergies or no
After the winter of our discontent, the spring of our anxiety is upon us. Between now and Memorial Day weekend, you will chaperone field trips, pack several brown bag lunches, apply sunscreen to children you don’t know all that well at field day, and wonder how the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks it is already so dang warm out when you *just* turned the heat off last week. You will organize and purchase and venmo for teacher gifts and coaches gifts and you will attend some sort of moving up ceremony. You will sign up on the sign up genius. Listen. It gets crazy this time of year. The days are long - and feel even longer if you are doing kid-pitch baseball b/c those innings take f-o-r-e-v-e-r. But i
Tween daughter was tottering around the Florida rental on spring break in my wedge espadrilles, looking like a cross between a runway model and that baby giraffe. All long legs and knees and adorable. I could hardly take it. I blinked and she went from learning to walk to trying on my shoes as a pre-schooler, pretending to be the mom. Now when she tries on my shoes, she means business. Ditto for “borrowing” my mascara. I blinked, and she’s not a little girl anymore. Same for the twins - who are each sporting floods as I really can’t bring myself to buy pants when it feels like spring and summer weather is here to stay. Sorry boys, anymore cold days and you can either wear shorts with your so
