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On the phone recently, my Mom recounted a story about the last time I had a baby. She laughed as she told her version of that fateful day in the delivery room. Her portrayal of me as a labor room dictator was slightly unsettling. Stories can be both comforting and unsettling. Storytelling impacts, creates, and…
It was just one of those extended parenting weekends. I knew it was coming. I tried to pad it with play dates. But there’s something about the combo of the Daddy cat being gone that makes the mouse want to play knick knack paddy whack on Mommy’s nerves. Those long weekends are like a sentence…
I began to feel panicky. I only had a crib, a mattress, and a blanky. Yes, there are numerous boxes of years’ worth of boys clothing in the attic. But we don’t know if we’re even having a boy. I had nary a nappy or bottle or binky in the house and I was 32…
This is the second part of a two-part post entitled Trouble at the Table, in which I review and summarize Karen Le Billon’s book French Kids Eat Everything. It was actually one of those reads that changed my life and my kid’s by default. I hope I do it justice. Neither his food pickiness nor…
My family’s tomato soup episode was one of those final moments when I knew we were in trouble at the table. I had heard the husband strike a bargain with our 7 year-old Picky-a-saurus. Whatever treat the child was requesting could be had after he ate and finished his cream of tomato soup. OK, the…
First published in August of 2009, I was reminded of this piece because today, November 15, is the Great American Smokeout . I used to hate this day back then as any addict would hate the mention of giving up their drug of choice. Happily, I wont birth this baby in a cloud of smoke…
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