I know that honesty is the best policy. I’m teaching my son that honesty is the best policy. I have an ugly needle-point pillow that says: “honesty is the best policy”. So why is it that the moment I step foot in the pediatrician’s office, I always, and without fail, lie my ass off? “Does he eat the recommended serving of vegetables?” “Yes.” “Does she sleep in her crib throughout the night?” “Absolutely.” “Did you remove any and all marbles from the house?” “Of course!” Liar. Erin Myles, you are a goddamn liar. Why can’t I just admit some days my son consumes only hot dogs & Pirates Booty, the baby ends up in bed with us, and we still have Hungry Hungry Hippo in the house? What am I afraid of? I’m pretty sure that a man who calls himself “Dr. Howie” isn’t going to call Child Protective Services and yet, I lie. [Read more…]
As a friendly retort to the viral blog post from ThoughtCatalog.com entitled: 10 Types of Moms That Suck, I have put together my own little list. And yes, I am hoping that it serves as a formal apology to my husband for yesterday’s post: Mr. Sensitive.
5 Types of Dads That Rule
#1. The ‘I don’t need a Diaper Dude’ Dude. He’s the guy who will let his daughter paint his nails; he knows what kind of man he is and he’s not threatened by a little pink polish or a Petunia Pickle Bottom bag.
#2. The ‘I’ve got an MBA in Fun’ Dad. His imagination and sense of adventure can keep your kids busy for days. He has just as much fun playing as his kids do, but he does it while quietly maintaining an underlying sense of order. He is well versed in the art of water-gun wars, kick-ass fort building and hide and seek. [Read more…]
At the risk of sounding like a wife who is constantly calling her husband out, I’d like to take this opportunity to once again, call my husband out. According to him and not surprisingly backed up by his mother, he is part of an elite group of men and women who all claim they are somehow more intolerant to vomit than the rest of us. A group of people for whom the very sound of throwing up sends them into a state of complete and total hysteria, rendering them virtually useless. I am reminded of this fact every time either of my kids blow chunks. Before the first drop hits the floor, my husband is running for the hills dry-heaving and leaving me, of course, to clean it up. Luckily for him and our wall-to-wall carpeting, I do. [Read more…]
Earlier this week as I was going through a box of my son’s old baby clothes I came across an adorable little onesie with the words “Future Home Run Slugger” across the chest. It was a gift from a very dear friend of ours and I can remember my son in it, like it was yesterday. I can also remember thinking to myself “My kid? A home run slugger? Not with these genes”. My husband of course felt the exact opposite. From day one, he has had visions of our son as a superstar athlete despite the fact that both he and I come from a very long line of, well, non-athletes. I discovered several other onesies in that box, all stamped with the same general sentiment “Future All Star”, “Dodger In Training”, “Pro-Quarterback In The Making” and it got me thinking about the dreams and, dare I say, expectations we have for our kids, particularly the boys, from day one. [Read more…]
My Dearest Madeline,
I wanted to take a moment to formally apologize to you for what has occurred over the past 5 years. It’s no secret that with the seemingly sudden and unexpected arrival of my son and then daughter three years later, you have gone from being our first love to a second class citizen at best. Though I’m certain this offers you no comfort, you should know that this happens to all dogs.
Having said that, I am sorry that it seems like overnight you went from being the light of my life to the bane of my existence. That is certainly not the case although my incessant use of the f-word in your presence may indicate otherwise. I know this is no excuse but my life too has changed and some days, I am just one episode of Calliou away from a full blown rampage. [Read more…]
I don’t have many memories from when I was a four or five years old but the ones I do have, are so vivid, so clear and so very permanent that I am beginning to worry about what my son is going to remember about this age? Up until now, my husband and I have both had the security of knowing that he’ll never remember this or that because he’s too young, but now every moment really does count. Of course, my hope is that he recalls the days spent at the beach playing in the waves, laughing, loving and in awe of how Mother and Father managed to parent with such joy and patience. But knowing my luck, the only memory he will have is of the time I let a rather heavy, commercial door slam into his head because I was too focused on getting into skating lessons on time. [Read more…]
That old cliché is true…Kids do say “the darndest things”. I just didn’t realize until now, that when they said “the darndest things” they meant “brutally honest, surprisingly insightful and horribly shaming”. Just yesterday, in the middle of explaining to my son why he can’t sit on his sister he said “Mommy, you’re talking too long.” And he was right, I was. I didn’t just say “you can’t sit on your sister because you can’t sit on your sister.” I had to go on and on about why it isn’t right to sit on your sister, how it makes her feel, how it makes mommy feel and how if we all went around sitting on people it would show that we have no… holy shit, I just dozed off writing that. [Read more…]
…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…]
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…]
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…]