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Category: Learning Curve

I Wonder Where She Gets it

Saoirse is–how do you say?–a sensitive child. She is funny, and sharp, and doesn’t miss a trick, as my grandmother would’ve said. But she also internalizes most of what she witnesses: interactions between other family members. Body language. The way she is treated in comparison to the way another is treated. She is, by all appearances, constantly weighing and measuring what goes on around her, deciding what is fair and what is decidedly not fair. The smallest slight will send her crumbling. She will focus on one tiny misstep–hers or or someone else’s–and be destroyed about it for hours. She tends to cry. A lot. I love this child more than I love the sun that shines on her face when she comes down for breakfast in the morning, all mussed hair and stuffy nose and sleepy smiles. And I love her intelligence, I love her insight. I love that she feels so much so deeply. But I don’t know how to tolerate this part of her, don’t know how to shape it, don’t know how to stop it when…

He Might be On to Something

You might be sitting there right now, flipping through your usual go-to pages on the Internet, drinking your afternoon cup of coffee before you get back to it. You might be bored. You might be anxious about something–say, for instance, the fact that you’re moving in a week and have been avoiding the packing for so long that you very well might still be here shoving sippy cups and ratty t-shirts into boxes when the new owner starts moving her own stuff in next Friday (no? That’s just me?). You might be cursing out the woman in the cubicle next to you who insists on microwaving leftover fish each day for lunch, or listening to your baby wake from his nap even though you were counting on another twenty minutes of relative peace (yep. That’s me). You might be sad, or hungry, or tired, or in desperate need of a pedicure and hoping the warm temperatures don’t arrive before you get a chance to get your spring toes on. Well, never mind, you. Don’t worry about it. Because here’s the thing: I have a…

Because I Can Hear You

My brother just happened to mention the other day how absolutely annoying it is to open up Facebook and see a bunch of statuses written by people complaining about how hard it is to be a parent. Paul–he is my favorite brother, him–was, as Paul is wont to be when people complain about how hard it is to be parents, massively exasperated. “Of COURSE it’s hard!” he said, as calmly as his boiling rage would allow. “You have a kid. What did you EXPECT?!” He’s right, you know. We all do it. We read blogs written by people venting about hard it is to be a parent. We share supportive letters written to stay-at-home moms who in turn write supportive letters to working moms. We read articles directed to parents of multiples, of adopted children, of spirited children, of children who punched their kid in the face on his way out of the playground and is lucky that parent didn’t make him eat a knuckle sandwich, too. Every time we open up social media, turn to Huffington Post, get a forward from a friend…