Mom-fession: Drinking in the Dark
Mommy guilt. It’s hard to avoid this feeling – because, well, you love your child – but sometimes you just need a break. And a glass of wine.
Category: Slacker
A boy and his Beba
Everyone pities the poor middle child, but I’ve got to say: My 7-year-old daughter Rebecca has it pretty good. She’s got a big brother to teach her how to hit a fastball and a little brother who follows her around like a worshipful puppy. Except for one thing. For years, my oldest son complained that Rebecca annoyed him (and indeed she did). But now she’s getting a taste of her own medicine. Because Charlie, the baby, just can’t get enough of “Beba,” as he calls her (and boy do we hear her name often now that he can talk!) Read more →
I’m Not Even at the Start Line
On September 30th, I sat in the hotel restaurant with my grandpa, mom, aunt and cousin recapping the events of the day. They asked me how I felt and if I needed anything to drink (I had just completed my first half Ironman). I wondered how they had entertained themselves for the nearly three hours I was cycling. Apparently, they hit the ground shopping. Read more →
Pacifier Wars
My almost 2-year-old isn’t talking, so we had a well-meaning lady from some large governmental agency check him out, to make sure everything was OK. After conducting a long and not-toddler-friendly array of tests, she said he probably wouldn’t qualify for Early Steps, but not to worry: “Get rid of the pacifier and he’ll start talking.” And so we did.
Charlie, however, did not start talking. But he did stop sleeping through the night. Read more →
The Joys of the Toy Store
Last weekend, we had three toddlers to shop for. So my boyfriend and I headed off to the toy store. And somehow spent an hour and a half there… presumably lost in the waning glow of our youth.
Confessions of a Mama’s Boy
Hi, my name is Andrew and I am a mama’s boy. Although I am a 22-year-old college graduate and work full time, I must confess the following: My mom makes my bed, makes me dinner, does my laundry, packs my lunch–and I live with her rent-free. Read more →
Your Date Night is Better Than my Date Night.
I know it is, because my date night starts out at a nice restaurant, with ambitious plans to watch a 10 p.m. movie or go to a local comedy club afterwards–but almost always ends up at the bookstore down the street from the restaurant, where the two of us sit like lumps in the cafe, flipping through books and magazines until we yawn and send the babysitter home early. Read more →
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