Watching your kid hit, kick, bite, headbutt, hair-pull, or in any way hurt another person is pretty much the worst. Even worse than the worst: when your kid keeps doing all that crap for months, years even, despite doing every damn thing you can think of to get it to stop. This was my kid,… Read More Is your kid a hitter, kicker, or biter? Read this.
My very first blog post here was about an experience shared by mothers of small children everywhere: being told to enjoy every minute by various ogling passers-by. Each time it happened to me, I suppressed the impulse to grab said stranger by the collar and scream “Why don’t you effing enjoy it while I go… Read More On Mamalode! Cherish: the agony and ecstasy
I just got back from a run. This is a strange fact since Not Running is a story I routinely tell. Once, I actually ran a marathon. When all was said and done, I felt like a badass with really bad knees. As the story goes, if I calculate generously, I’ve run about 5 miles… Read More Mom revives after reproductive coma
If you’ve ever read a board book to a toddler, you may have encountered this one: After 5 pages, or maybe the the thirteenth time it’s toddled up to your lap, you start omitting large swaths of story. Why would anyone in their right mind put this damn many words in a board book? It’s… Read More The board book: friend or enemy?
The song “Swing Low” is currently on the nap and bedtime rotation for me and Cal. Every time I get to the second verse — you know, “…looked over Jordan and what did I see?” — Cal pulls back from our snuggle and looks at me earnestly and says, “Angels?” It’s happened a good handful… Read More A band of angels
If you’ve tried to find kids’ media that is gentle but edgy enough, that respects a kid’s need for safety and curiosity about danger, then you know you’re in for an epic and unsatisfying quest. We’ve waded through all sorts of “kids” movies. Some left Jo huddled in the corner of the couch with hands… Read More Dreamy movies for kids and grownups
I will never let another pair of pants tell me I’m fat again. This from the mouth of my friend Rachael, as she speared another piece of perfectly roasted cauliflower off of the plate in front of us. We met for drinks, Rachael and I, and as the fathers of our children readied our kids… Read More Learning to feed my hunger
