While we ate dinner last night, I couldn’t help smiling as I watched my son Phoenix, age 5. He was having the best time ever, making sounds pretending his carrots were cars and airplanes, laughing at his funny-looking kale chips and asking cheerfully how much more of his dinner he had to eat before he’d get his “danilla” ice cream. Read more →
If someone asked you, “What does your family do for fun?” would you:
(a) smile as you thought of all the fun things you do with your family?
(b) Feel a pit in your stomach because you’ve been workin’ a lot lately and just haven’t had the time or energy? Read more →
I never gave much thought as to which saucy vixen would be the first chick to make my son’s heart go pitter-pat.
He’s 9. I guess I thought she’d also be 9? Or maybe 8?
Just by a quick glance at said saucy vixen’s roots, I’m guessing she’s 39. (Or maybe 38.) Read more →
My Super-mom friend was telling me the story of how she and her 7-year-old daughter were walking out of the YMCA as a group of teenagers was walking in. They looked at her daughter and said, “Awwwwww! Look how cute she is in her gymnastics outfit! She’s so cute!”
Her daughter looked up at her Super-mom and said, “Yeah, I am cute, aren’t I?”
We had a good laugh and then talked about how kids own it. They own their cuteness. They own their joy. They own their anger. They own their divinity. Read more →
I claim to be a slacker mom most of the time (and I am; there’s not a single puzzle box in our house that has all of its pieces). But one area where I’ve got this mommy thing down pat is bedtime. It started out when they were little and needed to be wrapped up like a giant pastel burrito in swaddling blankets to sleep soundly. That gave way to rocking chair sessions with “Good Night Moon.” My oldest is nine, and has been a captive audience to my “Turtle Cove Elementary” soap opera for about four years–ever since he said he’d had enough of that old lady whispering hush and was ready for some real drama.
People often ask me how my kids feel about yoga. We own five yoga studios and practice yoga every day, and people wonder if this makes our kids interested in the 5,000 year-old practice, or the opposite.
To my kids, practicing yoga is like brushing your teeth. It’s something you do every day, and more than once a day.
“OMG,” you’re thinking. “She’s a yoga Nazi! She makes her kids practice yoga all the time!”
I do. Because it happened yesterday. I had a morning of phone meetings; then I went to an in-person meeting; then I got in my car and had another phone meeting while I drove home. Then, when I got home, I saw Sam eating something in the backyard. I assumed it was his poop, so I ran out there to stop him. It wasn’t poop. It looked more like a pretzel or a cracker.
Read more →
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