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Category: Learning Curve

Well, I Did Not See That One Coming

You guys, this post was going to be epic. It was going to be about the inherent feminism found in young children, about their keen, unclouded observations of the societal biases of the world in which they’re growing. It was going to be about GIRL POWER, and Rosie the Riveter-type gumption, and I-am-woman-hear-me-roaaaaar. I may have been overreaching just a little. In one way, at least. The kids have recently watched the first two (well, fourth and fifth, you know) Star Wars movies. Cian (yes, he’s too young to watch them, and yes, we made his sisters wait until they were older, but he’s the third kid and tends to go with the family flow. Which means he might be driving a car by 12) loves them. He’s obsessed with the “miyen-yun fack-on” and pretends to be Luke Skywalker and walks around singing the movie’s theme song. Saoirse could take Star Wars or leave it–she just likes the corresponding Legos–but Quinlan, too, is all about it. AT-AT walkers are like “cute puppies” (until…

The Banana Battle: No, it’s Not What You’re Thinking

I’m going to tell you a story– a small one, not a big deal in the grand scheme of all that happens on a regular day in Parenting Land, but one that isn’t easy to tell–about an incident that happened with Quinlan. But this isn’t a story about my child. It’s actually one about my husband.Our Mighty is testing her powers, as it were. She’s getting a bit mouthier. More stubborn sometimes. When she talks back, she commits, and holds on to the rudeness and disrespect with a tenacity that should be unheard of in someone who has recently been caught coating her hair in body lotion after a shower. People will tell us that we need to spank, that we need to instill the fear of God in these little people. For seven years we’ve been trying to fear-instill without the corporal punishment part, and, well, it’s going as you expected. Maybe that’s why Quinlan recently told a mother helper in her kindergarten class that Mommy needs no-yelling practice. Just a hunch. It’s all I…

Just One Sentence

I look back at some of my old posts-the ones I put up way back in the olden days, when my first child was an only and I was tired and overwhelmed and just a little, tiny, eensy bit lost in the strange paradox of mundane and unpredictability that is the life (and in particular, stay-at-home life) of a new parent, and think: oh dear Lord. I have nothing to talk about now. But I do have stuff to talk about. It just seems to be bigger and less funny in its life-i-ness than it used to be. Saoirse told me this morning that she’d like to get her ears pierced. (I haven’t told David this yet, so whoops: Hey, Dave? SK wants to get her ears pierced! Please don’t faint). She was standing in her room–the room that pretty much just houses her bunk bed and clothes now because she sleeps in Quinlan’s room and why in the world did we move houses if the girls don’t even want their separate spaces?–before she left for school. She was wearing her…