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Browsing Tag: growing up

They All Said, Don’t Blink: A Farm Market Causes an Existential Parenting Crisis

Our girls don’t have soccer games scheduled for the upcoming weekend, so most of their practices this week were cancelled (wait, do you hear the choir of angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus, too??). We’ve been running nonstop this fall with soccer and school and family activities (I’m preaching to that choir, surely), and I was SO EXCITED to have a week with my kids home in the afternoon. HAHAHAHAHA. Nine years of parenting and I’m still delusionally hopeful. The reality is they’ve been fighting (with each other) and bickering (with me) and hollering (name your person) nonstop in almost every single supposed-to-be-peaceful moment we’ve had. Because real life is so not like the pretty, pretty pictures in my head. Monday afternoon, Cian and I picked the girls up from school, and I surprised them with a little trip to a local farm market. We haven’t been able to make a lot of the fall-festival rounds, which is one of my most favorite times of the year, so this was our first excursion. You know the drill: crunchy leaves. Fresh apples. Corn pits…

Because Why Not

Saoirse told me recently that she’s not sure if she wants to be President of the United States when she grows up, after all. She said that she she might want to open a restaurant called Dolphin’s Diamond D instead, where children have a play area to enjoy while their parents work, and where there’ll be a person in a dolphin suit handing out stickers, and all the food would start with the letter D (Quinlan suggested doughnuts as a dessert. I said that I would gladly support that decision). I told SK that she would have a good 15 years or so of adulthood before she could become president anyway, so she’d have plenty of time and freedom to open her restaurant if she wanted to do so. “But Mom,” she said. “I think I might like to work in an aquarium, or with dolphins. I’d like to work at Clearwater Marine Aquarium.” Quinlan nodded. She said that she’d like to live there, too. I asked the girls if I could move to be near them, since their dad and I like it…

Just the Beginning

We can’t protect our kids from the world (or, in this case, being seven). You know this. I know this. I may want to be in denial about this, and yet. I got a call from the assistant principal of Saoirse’s school (the school that we love, so anything that follows is not a judgment or statement. This is just a story) a couple of weeks ago. As a mom, my heart raced until the principal said–immediately, bless her mama-principal heart–that there was no emergency. Then, as a former goody-goody who may have gone all 12 years of elementary and secondary schools without getting detention (I made up for it in college, don’t mind me), my heart kept racing, because: THE ASSISTANT PRINCIPAL WAS CALLING MY HOUSE. Former stick-to-the-rules goody-goodies don’t get calls from assistant principals. Not really our thing. It turns out that Saoirse and another girl, her good friend, were playing a game at recess, running quickly, and ran into another little boy hard enough that he fell into the bleachers of the gym and got a nasty cut. This…