I know. I'm going to hell. God maintains a special hell for parents who confess to feeding their children cupcakes for dinner.
I know. I'm going to hell. God maintains a special hell for parents who confess to feeding their children cupcakes for dinner.
We are still in the amoeba stage of parenthood, morphing, developing and irrefutably clueless. Every day as our little daughter discovers a new skill, we discover how to manage and contain her. Sure we strive to give her structure and consistency, we try to challenge her and offer many opportunities for growth and stimulation, but who are we kidding? We are pretty much glorified zoo keepers here.
Whoever said that children don't come with a manual were so not kidding.
Parenting is built around guesswork.
Today I heard something I thought I longed to hear. "Go away, Mommy. I wanna play alone." It wasn't as great as I'd hoped.
I was delusional in thinking having children meant nothing had to change short of giving up alcohol and my dream of wanting to take up smoking. No. Not, really. But I did think I could carry on as if my children might be of the Just Add Water and Watch Them Grow, no-help-needed kind.
Note to self: make sure your child is really excited about something before you travel 2 hours for it.
The Second Law of Domestic Dynamics - the Law of Parental Entropy - states that one's children will be demanding in inverse proportion to one's level of energy.
I've only seen glimpses of potty training in action: The dad who pulled out a miniature porta-potty on the sidewalk and let his son go to town, the mom who pointed her daughter to a nearby tree, the countless blog stories about besmeared walls and loud, endless pleas to "wipe me!" The truth is, it's so easy right now. There are days I wish I wore Sesame Street Pampers.
Given the choice between hauling a floppy, resentful kid around the store or leaving him in an alarmed car parked in a shady spot with a ferocious-appearing dog at his side, though . . . nope, still can't feel good about that, sorry! Let's try it again when you're, say, fourteen, or you weigh 165 pounds, whichever comes last.
I'm being a good mom to difficult children. That's my special project that is changing their world.
Motherhood doesn't automatically come with the knowledge of how to clean up vomit.
There are few things that scar a parent for life worse than the potty training years.
Do not try to get control of your household's sole television by promising your kids it will be showing "cowboys" and "giants." There will only be disappointment and tears.
It's like Bartlett's but bloggy.
~Elizabeth Bird
Taking microblogging to a whole new level.
~LazyGal
The Reader's Digest of the Blogosphere.
~Grandad
Blogtations is like the most dope thing ever.
~Ordinary Art
I'm ADDICTED!!!
~Live Out Loud
