raising a boy

This is hardly the first post about what happened last Friday… Hardly the first post, by a “mom blogger” about frustration and fear…. Hardly the first post about a citizen of this country feeling stuck and helpless, yet restless and eager for change IMMEDIATELY… And it’s hardly the first anything that can change the fact that 6 brave adults aren’t alive to build a better future and that 20 beautiful babies are no longer playing on a yard at recess, or learning to read and write, or creating art that would have ultimately ended up on an already cluttered fridge, or becoming the “when I grow ...Read More
01.23.12
1
“Mommy, we are out of toilet paper,” my 4 year old son says as he opens the cabinet to get another roll. “Time for me to fix it,” he says as he takes the old cardboard out. (This is probably his second most favorite thing in the world to do other than opening hotel rooms with “magic cards.”) “Before you put a new roll in, would you please pull up your pants, and close the toilet lid?” “But–“ “Please.” “Ok, fine.” “Thank you,” I say finishing my makeup. As I watch him carefully insert the new roll of toilet paper, I silently congratulate myself for having (raising) a son who is happy to help with ...Read More
Oh, boy. That’s my boy.
08.19.11
1
Here’s the thing: I like sports. I do. I like watching sports. I do. And it’s probably mostly because I like men… and chips (…and dip…and beer), but still, I like sports. I do. However, it’s a language, that doesn’t come naturally to me. I hear the announcers speaking. I hear words. English words, even… Yet, I simply do not comprehend. SIR, I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAYING. In fact, without fail, every Superbowl, I have to relearn what is happening. Generally speaking, of course, I know the importance of a touchdown or a defensive tackle (just kidding, I really don’t), but when it comes to following the ...Read More