this is a page for

Category: Parenthood

Hopefully by the Time She’s 2

These are the feet of a 15-month-old who doesn’t want to walk. Oh, she could walk if she wanted to do so.  She’ll stand in the middle of a room for a full minute, by herself, giggling at whomever is cheering her on.  And she’ll tease us by taking half a step before crouching back down on all fours and tearing off after a ball, or toy car, or large dog who doesn’t deserve the overjoyed pounding he’s about to get in the face.  But she just. won’t. walk. There’s other stuff she can do perfectly well.  She can move up and down the stairs of our house more quickly than I can after, say, a hard work-out or anytime, actually, before my first cup of coffee.  She’ll repeat words we say, then immediately incorporate them into her vocabulary (“Wow!” “Hungry!” “Tintinnabulation!”).  If she hears her big sister ask if we have any candy, and if so may she have some, she’ll promptly drop whatever she’s doing and start reaching for…

This One’s for You, Amy

There’s a farm market on the other side of our town that, like many small, family-owned farms, opens a play area for children every fall.  It has a “fun fort” in a would-be greenhouse.  It has burlap-sack rides, and corn boxes and animals to feed.  There are tire swings, and hay forts and bean bag games and mazes.  For children, this is a kiddie paradise to fall in, crawl around on, run and leap and slide.  Parents, you know what it means for us…

It means the purchase of quart loads of stain remover.  And an entire three-month season that revolves around picking hay out of shorts, out of socks, out of hair.  I didn’t buy the season pass today, telling myself I didn’t want to fork over that much cash for two children, that we wouldn’t be coming back here often enough to make it worth it.

Yeah, right.  Who am I kidding?

A Conversation, Bedtime 2

Saoirse was all tucked into bed, the room dark and quiet.  She’d asked me to come back in for another hug. “Mom, I try not to misbehave.” “I know, sweetie.  I can see that you’re trying.  It’s hard.” “I try to stop, but I can’t.  How do I stop, Mom?” She was holding my hands with both of hers. “Well, honey, I think maybe sometimes you should try to just take a deep breath and be still for a moment.  That might help you calm down.” “It’s hard.  I don’t want to misbehave…I know.  When I do, I should have a glass of milk, or water.  That will help me.” “Okay, that sounds good.  Should we do that, then?  Next time, stop to get a glass of milk?” “No.  I won’t misbehave anymore.” She kissed me, the dropped my hands to roll over, pulling her covers up to her chin, cuddling Blanket. “Mom?  I love you.&#8221…