Showing posts from August, 2014


Take heart!  Be strong! Stand firm!  Little T, that mighty girl, that force of nature, that pint sized hurricane…even she can listen to her mama. Parents, everywhere, if this kid can listen, absorb, and change behavior accordingly, then guess what: this parenting thing isn't impossible after all.  We can make a difference and -- dare to hope -- raise contributing members of society! Little T came to me the other day and said: "Mama, I'm having a lot of maturement lately!   I just put my shoes away the first time you asked!  And I was going to yell at you from the couch to bring me more food, but I got up and made it myself instead!  I even warmed it up in the microwave and put the parmesan cheese on and everything!  And I was really mad at Sam, but I didn't even yell!  I just took a breath and it all went away! I'm so maturement!" (While not a fan of the exclamation point, I find it necessary here.  While she may be getting "more matu

She's On To You, New Teacher

I took my 5th grader to a Meet and Greet with her new teacher this evening.  She seems very nice.  I liked her bearing.  Lady E was charming and sweet.  Then, when I mentioned to the teacher that the 5th graders are a great group of kids, Lady E said: "Well…we're a little goofy. Or a lot goofy." Ms. New Teacher said: "Goofy is good!  I like goofy." Later, at home, I asked Lady E if she liked Ms. New Teacher.  She said sure.  I remarked that I liked what her teacher said about being goofy. Lady E cut to the chase: "They all say that at the beginning of the year.  At first, it's all ' Oh! Goofy is great !' and then by half way through it's all: ' STOP BEING GOOFY !' She's just trying to sweet talk us and pull the wool over our eyes." Teachers beware: Mixed metaphors aside, this is one nine year old you will not be able to fool or trick or otherwise befuddle.  She's a sharp little thing who won't let you get

A Mother's Soliloquy

Just imagine that's me, and I'm holding a spray bottle of Simple Green.   To clean, or not to clean—that is the question. Whether tis better in the main to suffer The grime and messes of outrageous children Or to take arms against a sea of clutter And by opposing end it.   To clear, to wash No more—and by one wash to say we end The chaos, and the thousand natural shocks That kids are good for.   ‘Tis an insanity Foolishly to be wished.   To wash, to clean To clean—perchance to rest; ay, there’s the rub, For in that space of clean what chances come When I have straightened up this living room Must give them strength.   That’s the truth That makes calamity of so much cleaning. For they will grab the chance and scorn my time, Th’ mother’s wrong, the proud children crazy, The pangs of unpleasant work, the dirty dishes, The insolence of children, and the spurns A patient mother endures from piles of toys When she herself might her good boo