Kidding
On facebook the other day, a friend linked to an article in Cosmo, of all places, about a woman’s experience with her abortion and subsequent testimony before the hearings in Texas on limiting abortions on a number of fronts, including no abortions after 20 weeks unless the life of the mother was in grave harm. The author described her difficult road of infertility and after treatments, voila! A baby girl on the way! Much rejoicing. Until at 19 weeks she learned her daughter had spinal bifida, a serious medical condition needing multiple surgeries, and probably a slew of other health conditions related to it. She wouldn’t have a healthy baby. Her daughter wouldn’t have a normal life. She opted to abort her daughter, citing the horror of a bad medical condition, the difficulty their family would face, and the awful quality of her daughter’s life. She and her husband were comfortable with their decision, and wanted to ensure that other families faced with this knowledge after 20 weeks could opt for the same. This isn’t a post about being pro-life or pro-choice or anti-choice or pro-abortion, whatever you want to call it. I really was struck by the notion of how a medical diagnosis could set the value on human life. On the worth of the child. On the decision to keep or not to keep. When people are handicapped or developmentally different or special needs, are they as valued by us? Not by our society as a blanket whole,…
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It’s my monthly hop over to day 2 day joys with Rachel. This time it’s all about Toddler Quiet Time. What? I can’t hear you. My toddler is screaming. Oh yes, I’m talking about a designated time everyday when your tot has time peacefully alone in your choice of baby jail. Sound like something you’d like in your house? Come read my six steps to it. It has really truly worked for me and others I’ve foisted my advice on. The key is to go slowly into it, never use it as a punishment, and implement it according to your child’s personality. Come get this magic time! And now for something different: pumpkin patch & friends’ horse barn. Let’s just say the horses made the kids insanely horse crazy (yes!) and me appreciate my horse family after all these years even more. I’ve known Michelle & Rachel for almost 17 years! ::our chunky love muffin likes pumpkin muffins. ::what is this huge horsie? all hers are soft and little. ::the best tia kk ever takes on the pastures with SuperBoy. ::our bag of apples didn’t make it far. ::will it lick my handie-pandie?? ::yes! the poor horse is eyeing the leftover apples. ::michelle made George into the stead for SuperBoy. ::his expression the whole ride. ::self-professed: he loves George. George is his best friend. And he wants to be an equestrian. That’s my son!
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Our mismatch blue shirts with our Godson in Virginia–the most recent photo we have together. I just love AA. He loves me. Our love doesn’t feel static, though. I fall more and more in love all the time. For all the sappy reasons: he cradles our newborn babies in his arms, murmurs love songs to them, he snuggles them to sleep as they grow and groan at night with teething pains, he teaches our son how to fold his fingers around an incense thurible, hit a bat, and our daughter to tickle tackle, say “bacon.” I love him for all the specific-to-him reasons: his chewed on fingers, his eternal patience with my bad housework and fabric addiction, his passion for Black Sheep pizza, his embrasure of so much of my family around-all-the-time, his ability to laugh when he’s angry. The man I met in law school and fell, falling, in love with looks a little older, more tired, and sweeter to me now. He’s still a long lanky runner, but his hands are rougher from hours digging and tending our beloved garden. His eyes still crinkle when he laughs, but the laugh lines run deeper after our years of craziness together. We love having a family so much, we’ve added a new member. Dubbed “BabyLoves” by SuperBoy, we’ll meet our baby in early May of 2014. It’s a really humbling joy to be pregnant, to say yes, please to having another person, and having that request granted. I love sharing…
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So we’ve established SuperBoy is at home with me, poor chap, and his newly wild sister, SweetPea. What bee got in her bonnet? She’s talking, gesticulating, snatching, grabbing, shrieking, you name it. It’s awesome to see her spitfire personality come out, but also frightening when I imagine her, like this, forever. Maybe she’ll have a calm side too? She has also take to spastic dancing. In her high chair. On the ground. In her carseat. Girl’s got moves. When SuperBoy has thrown the last of his baseball cards to the ground from his floor bed (so it’s not really that far), he’s buzzed through all his Tintin books, and he’s looking for trouble to get into, we’ve been doing a few of these activities and plan to do them all this fall. And more. And less if I’m too tired. Wussie Mama lives here. But, on days your child isn’t at preschool, or if he stays home all day, a few new games and activities in your tool box will be fun! Most children this age are very interested in learning through all their senses: touch, taste, smell, feel, and sound. The world is their classroom and it’s our job as parents to help them find ways to creatively learn. 1) Yarn Braiding This little activity takes only a few materials and yields lots of fun. Materials: 2-4 skeins of a chunky yarn, a roll of sturdy tape like packaging tape, a table with chairs Cut three long (12-14 inches) pieces of…
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Our son is three. By most accounts, he’s considered a preschooler. That would indicated that he is in a stage before school, and should be prepped for school in the coming year or two, right? That means I should worry and fret, purchase pre-K materials, drill him on his alphabet, numbers, colors, rings around Jupiter, right? For our family, these anxieties are not right. And maybe they’re not right for your family, either. After prayerfully considering our son’s temperament, the wonderful conventional school options around us, and our hopes for his development, we’ve determined that at this point, we’re going to homeschool for grade school. I’m a lawyer, not a teacher, by trade. Despite that apparent handicap, it feels like a good fit. If you’ve made that determination for your family as well, or are living it out, what does this mean for homeschooling preschool? The first thing I’ve learned from my other friends who homeschool is to relax! Before you buy the software that guarantees your kiddo will get into an Ivy League, or invest in workbooks and instructional tomes, remember your child is still a child. One who is navigating and conquering basics like linguistic expression of feelings (fancy talk for temper-tantrums), awareness of physiological urges (ditto for toilet-training), grasping gastronomy and correlative behavior (triple for eating & how food affects you), and navigating interchild relations (you know, figuring out sharing and play with others). Add to the mix perhaps being an older or younger sibling, having multiple…
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I awoke in a rough mood–feeling sugar hungover from all the dough I ate the day before, body sore from working out this week, and generally sleepy. But AA was up, showering, and yes, as I confessed on facebook, I hadn’t made him a lunch. When your awesome husband works 12-14 hour days and you get to be at home with the kiddos, pouncing on the internet every chance you get, eating cookie dough, sprawling in the hammock with your two monkeys, not showering, all these luxuries, you really ought to make his damn lunch. So I got up, pulled my bathrobe on, shuffled downstairs, fumbling a little with the kitchen lights. Who knows if the dog was fed–I mean, she barks as though she is starving no matter what. She’s fed, the water is put on for oats, and I survey the kitchen. A little humus. A number of kiddie leftovers-maybe-they’ll-eat-it-for-lunch-tomorrows, cheese in abundance, no eggs, lots of pickles, defrosted chicken thighs, eureka! Deli turkey breast. Sliced. Grey Poupon. Cheese. Bread. It’s a sandwich kind of day. Cherries, sandwich, yogurt + blueberries + pistachios, almonds in the shell, humus & celery to dip. Yup. He’s got something to eat for the day. The oatmeal is bubbling and as I drain out the oats, abandoning the murky water it boiled in, milk pours itself practically right into that oversized tupperware he’ll eat from on the bus. Out the door, my love, and another day at work. Upstairs, not a peep…
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