I need to stop multitasking. I think you should too. It sounds impossible, because we’ve been doing it for so long. I think I'm good at it, but is it good for me? At this very moment I'm writing, I’m thinking I need to switch the laundry over to the dryer. I’m keeping an eye on my preschooler, sitting next to me painting, and my seven-year-old on the other side cutting out a picture to glue into a scrapbook. I’m listening to my 11-year-old talk about how she is going to be 12 and that is practically 13 and aren’t I totally excited about it? I may only be multitasking in my mind at this moment…
He didn't own a chainsaw when I married him. She doesn't own a Nerf machine gun. They were not present when the other hammed it up for the photos to the right. Father and daughter were putting on a show for their audience (which was just me) and trying to get a laugh. They scare me a little. I'm sure you understand. All these years I couldn't quite recognize who my little girl — soon to turn eight — resembled most. Clearly, she doesn't look like me. Her personality is nothing like mine. She's bubbly, friendly, and makes new friends quicker than I can down a donut. Still, I wondered about this…
I was lazing around online the other day, drinking coffee and keeping up with all that is exciting in the world by watching the trending topics on a search engine. Watching what other people search for obsessively can be both amusing and disturbing. On this day, I was shocked to find napping on the popular list. Yes, napping. It was not quite as popular as Kim Kardashian, yet (understandably) more popular than Kate Gosselin. Why were people flocking to Google to learn about napping? Are we so dim that we need advice about the how, when and why of napping? I know it wasn’t the entire …
Riding a camel isn’t at all dangerous. That’s what they told me as I climbed on the back with my girls. “Just don’t move back in the seat or you could fall off.” I was only climbing on because they begged me. I didn’t want to do it. Camels wobble. Camels smell. If I fell off, I probably wouldn’t break a bone. I would just look ridiculous in front of a crowd of strangers. Motherhood has made me less daring. It happened suddenly. Riding a roller-coaster, rock climbing and sky diving seemed reasonable and fun to me in the past. Now, carousels can make me sick. Like most moms I know, I became a…
This is a new rule for me. I'm not referring to the plastic toys that are scattered around, dropped all over the house by little hands. I’m mean the toys that the man of the house purchases, claiming they are necessities. He needs these things — ranging from mountain bikes and gadgets to oversized power tools — for taking care of the yard, home improvements, family fun and hobbies he plans on pursuing in the distant future. This is a sore spot for me. I roll my eyes at first. Then I think about all the ways I would have spent the money. Then I get cranky about the whole thing. Camping …
I cleaned like a mad woman for two days straight. Our new friends were coming over for the first time. I was trying to accomplish a nearly impossible level of cleanliness. Over the years, I've established different levels of clean: Sister/BFF Clean: A mess. She loves me anyway. Mom Clean: Moderately messy. Mother-in-Law Clean: Neat and presentable. New Friend Clean: Spotless. Perfect. Free of clutter. When the day arrived for our friends to come over, I had narrowly passed Mom Clean. I had a dozen excuses. And I was out of time. "My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being …
When I wake up in the morning and think of the day ahead, there are a few things I can count on. There will be hungry children in my path. There will be a dog begging to be set free to chase squirrels. There will be hot coffee. There will be a carefully organized plan for the day. I love when a plan comes together, but it rarely measures up to my vision. Appointments change. Things happen, good and bad. It could be a sinus infection, a headache, a surprise visit from a friend (or three), a flat tire, a last minute decision to head to the beach. The other day, after a mad dash from the front …
We improve with age. We’re getting stronger on the inside with each year that passes. You doubt me on this one. I can sense it. I didn’t believe it either at first. All I was seeing were gray hairs at my temples. I’d marvel over the depths of my frown lines, implying that I’ve spent too much time being angry, worried or thoughtful. I’m smiling now. Not because I’m deliriously happy or completely insane, but because I remember Mom Rule #61: Your Face Will Stay Like That. It turns out mom was right about making faces. My smiling is a cheap attempt at damage control. What I have realized …
She was passing through the kitchen when she spotted me in the corner near the sink. “What are you eating?” My daughter has an amazing nose for sweets. “Huh? Me?” I pulled the spoon out of my mouth, clean, evidence erased. I don’t lie to my kids, as a rule. There are exceptions like Santa, the Tooth Rairy and the stories about how tough my life was when I was their age. I’m sticking with tradition, that’s all. She put her hands on her hips, trying to stare me down, waiting for me to fess up. “It’s nothing really,” I started to tell her. “It’s a little chocolate chip cookie dough.” “Are you …
Some moms seem to have it all. You know them. They have well behaved children with excellent grades, California Closets, a shiny new car with screens for each passenger and a friendly GPS system, maybe even a husband with a full head of hair. I know it’s hard not to look around and imagine that their lives are easier or better than yours. I admit that I fantasize late into the night, just like any other woman. Could making a change in the bedroom really make my life better? Would I wake up with a smile, knowing that I would soon be standing naked in front of a flawlessly designed, perfectly …
