…Is something I say at least twice a day. The truth is, I’m not. Or at least I wasn’t before I had kids. I used to be a calm, quiet person. Non-confrontational to a fault even. But in the same way that my boobs used to be perky and full of life…shit has changed. It’s pretty safe to say, that for the past year not a single day has gone by without me yelling at someone in my house and there is no sign of that letting up any time soon. I yell because someone hits, I yell because no one listens, and sometimes I yell because it just feels good. The other day when I found myself in what I can only describe as a lego induced rage, my husband suggested that perhaps I “calm down and try to not yell so much”. So naturally, I in turn, yelled at him. [Read more…]
An Open Letter To The Parents of Dogs
I recently read an article online about how annoying it is for Non-Parents to hear from Parents that raising dogs is “nothing” compared to raising kids. At first I thought sure, I guess that would be annoying, hearing something like that over and over but then thought, what kind of idiots are actually saying, out loud, that “raising” dogs could ever be anything like raising children? I don’t want to sound intolerant or inconsiderate but any comparison is just embarrassing. [Read more…]
A Boy’s Right to Draw Arms
Just recently, I experienced what I’m pretty sure will go down in history as my most validating parental moment immediately followed by my most horrifying.
Not surprisingly, both happened at the pediatrician’s office; one of my least favorite places and the site of so many of my parental missteps. There for my son’s yearly check up, Dr. Nancy began the barrage of standardized questions designed to track his development which I was certain was normal if not slightly above average. [Read more…]
Raising A Superman
As I watch my son dressed in a familiar red cape, jump from the top step of our cement porch into the bed of thorny rose bushes below, I am reminded of the superhero fantasy that lives in all boys. An adorable little gene buried deep in their DNA that compels them to run, jump and fly without concern for their own well being or the laws of gravity. It is this fantasy, which begins with their first pair of Superman Underoo’s and continues throughout their adult life, that I believe is responsible for about 90% of the bad decisions made by most men. [Read more…]
Parking Lot Crazy
I’d like to think of myself as a pretty levelheaded, polite person. I’m Canadian so I think it’s safe to say that relative to most, I’m on the nicer side of center. Having said that, I do have to admit that the parking lot of my son’s pre-school has been the site of a few rather unsavory social indiscretions. Most recently, I found myself calling a minivan-driving dad a “dick” in front of his 4-year-old daughter. I’m not proud of it, but I think if you were a witness to our exchange, you would understand where I was coming from. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s important that you know that at some point during our very heated discussion about what a terrible person I was for having left both car doors open for my children, he actually said “I’m a pretty cool cat.” and “People like me.” Two things, I’m pretty sure only the biggest dicks say. [Read more…]
Douchebags & Warm Wipes
A friend of mine is expecting his first child in the spring and foolishly took to facebook in search of friendly advice on what he and his wife should register for. Not surprisingly, everyone and their mother had an opinion including one woman who wrote that advice from other parents is “unnecessary” and then went on to give her two cents on his entire registry. I couldn’t bring myself to comment (for reasons I’m sure I will share at a later time) but his post did get me thinking about all of the items on my baby registry and how one in particular, the wipe warmer, will most likely be looked at in years to come as the reason my generation of parents failed their children.
Outsourcing My Authority
As the mother of a four and a half year old, seldom do I have a day that does not begin and end with the sound of incessant arguing followed by uncontrollable tears. They call it the fearsome fours but in my opinion, the f*&king fours better describes the myriad of emotions that both kids and parents experience at this age. [Read more…]
5 to fifteen
My mother has always said that kids are at their best between the ages of 5 to fifteen. Ten glorious years when they are old enough to let go of your apron strings yet still young enough to not hate you. This is not to say that my mom hasn’t met her fair share of unsavory eight year olds, but in general, she believes that if you do the work before five, the next decade should be pretty great. [Read more…]