Not a week that goes by that I don’t remind my son to be kind to his sister and play with her. When he looks at her, he sees an annoying two-year-old girl who steals his toys and ruins all his fun. For him, she is simply too hard to love. While few of us can relate to the irritation of dealing with a two-year-old sister, many of us can relate to the experience of living with a difficult family member. Continue reading
I’ve only been a mom for four years—but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about my children’s future. I constantly wonder what the next decade, or even the next year, will hold for them. What profession will they pursue? Will they be able to sustain themselves financially? Will they make good decisions? Will they find the right spouse? Continue reading
I had a conversation with my Mom (who is a single parent) about how tired I am of just being. I whined about everything and blew up the BIG pity balloons at my on-the-spot-pity party that I was throwing for myself. “Mommy I am just tired of being the everything decision maker, medical personnel, provider of all- food, clothing, shelter, needs & wants” —I whined. Taxi. Education Director. Juggler. Detective. Advocate. Cheerleader. Prayer Warrior. Disciplinarian. Entertainment Manager. Milk-Picker-Upper. Papers-Filler-Outer. Single income bringer-inner. Clothing Merchandiser. (I went on and on). For every thought or thing I want to do I have to consider impact on the lives of others. Plans to do anything requires a project matrix plan to position everyone where they want or need to be.” I went on “….think about it Mom, if a kid is acting out or refuses to wear clean clothes — the FIRST thing people say is…where is that child’s mother? They don’t know battle that took place that morning over the laundry….I’m over it!” My mother listened, uhm-hmmed in understanding and reminded me that God is able to keep and sustain me. She extended the love and patience a tantrum throwing child needs, while talking me away from the edge. You would think after all of this soothing conversation that I felt better….but in actuality I felt worse. Continue reading
Unless you have been living under a rock, we have all seen the image of the Baltimore Mom Toya Grahm publically reprimanding (slapping the stoop-id out of) her son when she spots him in the riots following Freddy Grey’s death. What I saw was not “Angry Mom beats her son for participating in riot” I saw “Scared and Desperate Mom beats son out of fear that he’ll become the next victim of police brutality.” Some say she was right on time, others say she was out of line. Before you answer, consider the 16 year old young man who was being transported from Tennessee to Philadelphia when he escaped the ‘prison transport agency’. The very first thing that the first person the news reporter interviewed said was “Where is this boy’s mother that he would be a 16 year old in prison.”
….like we don’t have enough to do
Mom VS MOM – By Ralph Gardner Jr.
Ann approached another mother at a school function recently and happily introduced herself. Not only were their younger kids in kindergarten together, she explained, but their older sons played in the same weekend soccer league. “She said, ‘Oh,’ and just walked away,” Ann remembers. “That was it. ‘Oh.’ It was a school event. It wasn’t like it was the steam room at Bliss where she was naked.”
Ann is certain she knows why her fellow mom dissed her, if in fact she did. It has nothing to do with Ann’s confusing on-again-off-again marriage, or the disparity in their net worths. (Ann is middle-class; the other woman is profoundly wealthy.) No, as far as Ann is concerned, the reason the other woman turned tail is that Ann works full-time. Her adversary, on the other hand, is a gloriously full-time stay-at-home mom — with all the attendant benefits that implies not only to her youngsters but also to the life of the school. A stamp licker, an envelope stuffer, an active member of the parents association, a person who can always be counted on to bring not one but two or three dishes to the annual potluck dinner — even if, as Ann suspects, she buys them and passes them off as her own. “In the school directory, you can see who has a job and who doesn’t,” Ann says, imagining the woman taking a black marker and banishing her to oblivion. Continue reading
were the increasingly loud whispers that (to my horror) were coming out of the mouth of my little angel…..in church. My almost 3 year old had seen enough, heard enough and was getting restless. Can’t say that I blame him and I really don’t expect his undivided attention to last for so long, but there were certain rules to Sunday Service that he and I had come to understand. Tapping my leg and ignoring my wide-eyed-lifted-eyebrow-teeth-bared-tight-lipped stare…was a violation of our agreement.
He could quietly color in his Sunday Book, draw on his tablet, reconfigure his Power Rangers…. shoot he could build a house if he was quite. For his quietness (even though I didn’t believe in food in the sanctuary, I would reward him with an occasional fruit snack or two. Continue reading