Category: Kids

Tooth Fairies, Placental Guilt & Dorothy Hamill

My youngest son Nic will sit for his senior portrait tomorrow, and last week he asked me if he could get his haircut a few days before the pictures, because he wanted a chance for his hair to grow, and not look so freshly coiffed. Wow, I thought to myself, he is really growing up.

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Beware of the Frogs

My seventeen year old son Nic walked out to his car a couple of nights ago, and when he came back inside, he said the four words that make me want to head for the hills, or north of I-10; escape the burbs; abandon my comfy little house, and refill my Valium. Every-single-effing-year… The Formosans

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Counting Fingers, Toes & Pubes

As I rushed my youngest son Nic out of the door to school this morning, I counted down the minutes and I realized, Motherhood is all about counting. Nic you have fifteen more minutes… Nic you have five more minutes… Seventeen years ago, I started off by counting Nic’s fingers and toes, his ounces of

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Happy 17th bEARTHday Nic!

Tomorrow is Earth Day, and my youngest son Nic’s seventeenth birthday. A week or so ago, Nic was sitting at the kitchen table making a list, and so I asked him what he needed from the store… This isn’t a grocery list Mom. “What kind of list is it?” It’s my Birthday List. “Uh, you’re

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When You Meet My Mom, Cover Your Ears

My adult-son Alex, brought his friendgirl home to meet us on Easter Sunday afternoon. This was actually the second time we’ve met Alex’s friendgirl, but this was the first time we’ve had the opportunity to spend real time together. About ten minutes into our visit, Friendgirl mentioned she just had her ears pierced, and one

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I Gave My Kids Therapy Material And I Keep On Giving

I scarred my kids for life. I’m sure of it. And I’m still doing it. My middle son Alex is the son with the freshest memories of home, because he is the latest one to leave the nest; and currently, he is home on vacation, between duty assignments. Alex walked in this morning, holding an

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I’ll Be Your Son For Chocolate

I’m an auto-pilot parent. Well, sort-of. I mean, I worry and keep track of the kid; but the helicopter parenting days are long gone. And my almost-seventeen-year-old son, Nic, likes to pretend he was hatched from an egg anyway, so he barely gives me the time of day… Until a candy holiday. Mom, am I

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My Head Needs 3 Scales

For the past few years, I haven’t had many chances to have lunch with my middle son Alex, because there was a massive ocean between us. But now, for a little while at least, my son is home. So today I had the mid-day pleasure of his company. During our lunch, Alex unknowingly said the

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Time Flies During The Pre-Polyester Years

Happy Birthday Allybean. I can’t believe it’s been twenty-two years today. Time flies. And I know that sounds cliche’, and like something a pre-pleated-polyesther-pants-wearing-old-lady would say; which I am not, by the way. But really, I swear it feels like today is March 18,1991, and I was just put to sleep for the C-section; and

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Am I Your Mother? Or Yours?

I wear three different Mom-hats and sometimes (albeit rarely) the hats get mixed up. Even though Jamie is twenty-five, his Mom gets the most use; she is full of positive platitudes, has liberal boundaries, and offers endless encouragement. Nic’s Mom chooses her battles carefully, but is ultimately still the boss of him. And Alex’s Mom

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