Four Crying Out Loud

It was like a 1lb. bag of animal crackers and a box of butter mints were the "admission" price to get to spend time with the toddler.  Paw-Paw would have them ready, exchanging them for hugs and the chance to sit and watch the boy move about his living room, picking things up, throwing things down; rearranging any organization he had to the place.  The baby would take every magnet off the refrigerator and move them all into a clump in one spot.  Half of the magnets were holding up pictures of the baby; in Halloween costumes, in swimmies at a pool, or petting animals at the zoo.  The baby especially loved to press the tea kettle magnet, look at his Paw-Paw with a toothy grin and squeal when it whistled.  You could have stopped the clock for the man, he would have been more than grateful to live the rest of his life in that moment. Paw-Paw soaked up the limited time he had with him, not knowing when he would see the baby again.  After an hour visit in ...

Difficult children exist.  I have one and I know of a few others out there.  The hands of the parents of these special children should be on display at science museums, just like the old smokey lung is.  Instead of talking about how many cigarettes that person smoked, people would stare at the red, worn out hand and wonder how many whippings it had to execute. If you poke holes in the bananas at the grocery, I'm going to bust your tail.  If you spit on the playground swings, I'm going to bust your tail.  If you crush a handful of goldfish crackers and sprinkle them on the kneelers at church, I'm going to...pick you up gently, brush you off, and offer you some fruit snacks and the closest crayon I can find. All public places are fair game for a spanking, except church.   That's where I have to draw the line.  There seems to be something so wrong about saying "Peace Be With You" then hauling off and wailing on ...

Sometimes I laugh at myself when I think back to my perceptions of the world as a child; the way I saw certain situations or people.  What was I thinking?  It wasn't really like I saw it at all.  When I was younger, I visited my father in Cincinnati during the weekends.  He made certain that the visit was action-packed, full of trips to the zoo, museums, Graeter's Ice Cream stores, and antique shops.  During one visit with him, he told me that he had moved to a new apartment; although he referred to it as The Carriage House.  Dad explained to me that his new apartment was essentially the place where horse carriages were once stored.  I was uneasy with this idea.  Why was my father living in a horse stable?  We drove through an old Cincinnati neighborhood, pulled into the alley and made a left into the large double door opening.  As I walked up the stairs, I could see different herbs tied with a simple string, hang...

My children don't understand the concept of money.  I like to break it down for them by saying "I had to work 'x' hours to be able to afford those shoes for you!"  Or, "Why did you leave this out in the rain?  I worked 2 days in order to buy that for you!"  I'm pretty sure this technique doesn't work.  My daughter asked me where I was going one morning.  I told her I had to go to work.  "So you can buy me those two Disney princesses?"  Ugh.  Children are self-centered wallet suckers.  I like to heap the guilt on them but my husband just wants them to have all the things he didn't have as a child.  When our daughter loses 3 sets of Monster High doll hands, he simply buys her new dolls.  Although he doesn't agree with her lack of reverence for small doll parts, it makes him happy to spend his money on his girl. When I was in college in Athens, Ohio, I worked at a bookstore.  My boyfr...

I desperately wanted to be the new mom you see in the parenting magazines:  feeding on a schedule, napping when the baby naps, playing the classical music, and taking a shower daily.  A combination of three words put an end to that dream for me:  real live baby. Allow me to paint for you the external factors that were going on as well during this joyous, life-changing event.  Six days after the birth of that bundle of joy, I started back to school for my Master's Degree.  Two weeks after the birth of that angel sent from heaven, my husband went back to work on midnights.  Four weeks after the birth of that swaddled package of love, I went back to work.  With a husband who worked midnights, and an employer who allowed me to bring my baby to work, I was with that sweet infant gift all day and night.  I packed him around in a Snuggli when I had to go to the ...

My mother does our laundry.  I'm not jumping for joy about it.  It comes at a high price.  I'll admit, I like to save my laundry up and do it all on the weekend.  By Saturday, you could stand on one of the piles and change a high-hanging light bulb with ease.  The sight of this makes my mother's blood boil.  The process of her doing our laundry goes in phases: The Allegations of Neglect Phase My mom likes to tie the situation that my laundry is in to how well I care for my children.  "You are neglecting their basic needs!" she says as she sorts delicate tu-tu's from the bleachable tighty-whities.  As she sorts the piles, she says things like "No wonder Milena looks like an orphan half the time!  She has all these cute clothes to wear and they're all dirty!"  (Side note:  Milena looks like an orphan, because she looks like an orphan.  The cleanest of clothes won't change that.)  The Martyr Phase My mom likes to...

More than Santa Claus, your sister knows when you've been bad and good. --Linda Sunshine Being the youngest of three sisters, I got left out of everything fun.  I had no school dances to attend, no ballgames; nothing but a Friday night of "Who's the Boss?" on the old tv.  I smelled my sisters as they dabbed on their Cody Wild Musk cologne.  I watched them exit the home, their bangs narrowly missing the eaves of the roof.  I heard them ask me if I wanted to go with them, only to shout "Psych!" when I got on my coat. I am going to spend time in the "bad place" for my work as a sister on this earth.  As a young child, I looked for ways to elicit a negative response from them.  I used humiliation, covert operations, and plain old meanness to counteract the frustration of not belonging in their group. It must have been the mid-80's when I got Western Barbie for Christmas.  She had this neat gi...