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Category: Family Life

Flying a Kite

There are certain tasks a child expects her parent to be able to do, without question or fail, at every single attempt. It is inherently assumed that Mom and Dad will always be able to: a) assemble a bike, b) make a boo-boo feel better, c) tie a shoe, and d) fly a kite. Guess which one I can’t do. Alas, yesterday it was windy enough for naive, optimistic Mom (that’s me) to suggest to Saoirse that we try out her new kite. Funny, thing, telling someone to go fly a kite: you say that to an adult–“Hey! Go fly a kite, wouldya?!”–and you risk getting punched in the face. Say the same thing to a 3-year-old, though, and you get, “Okay! That sounds like fun! Let’s GO!” So outside we went, plopping Quinn in the grass, where she promptly ripped off her socks only to discover that bare grass feels awful on a baby’s skin: This is also where my poor eldest child discovered that Mom is a failure, at least when it comes to kite-flying on a semi…

A Lesson in Avoidance

I really do like our house, honest. It’s cute and open and light, and I actually appreciate that it’s small enough that if I’m in one room, I can hear Saoirse doing jumping jacks on her bed in another. It’s an older home, though–circa Lyndon B. Johnson older–and true to its era, well, it’s got the closet space of a TV my mom would’ve used to watch the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. Yeah, that small. And because of that, we have to do the twice-a-year switcharoo of off-season clothes, which I usually put off until I can no longer get away with wearing lamb’s wool sweaters at the local pool. I dread the Rubbermaid storage containers staged around the bedroom. I weep at the thought of sorting through clothes to give away to charity. And now that I’m post-baby but not quite finished nursing (3 weeks and 4 days to go, now that I’m counting), I have to try on every. single. item of clothing. So I do what any organized person does: I…

Quarantine

We made three visits to the doctor in 28 hours this weekend. I don’t recommend this for a fun time, especially when one of those visits is on Easter Sunday morning and involves my dear 3-year-old being the only patient to ever visit a normally closed pediatrician’s office in an Easter dress, an eye swollen half-shut, and a date for mass in an hour…At the end of an all, the tally is as follows: two cases of walking pneumonia (me and the Mighty), two ear infections (the girls, and the reason for Saoirse’s fight face) and a sinus infection (me, just to throw a sick momma into the mix to even things out). As I type this, David has sealed himself into a bathroom and is bathing in Purell. I fully expect him to emerge in a biohazard suit…No, just kidding. He’s been awesome. But still. Good thing he washes his hands a lot. A whole lot. So, with all the syringes and open medication bottles, our house looks like a New Jersey beach circa 1987. Quinn does a lot of sleeping–unless it…