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Browsing Tag: Cian

Pep Talks

Quinlan, age 11, is on the couch, playing a game on her new Nintendo. I’ve just asked Cian, newly age 9, to start a load of his laundry. “What?!” he says. “How do I do that??” Me, calm: “Cian. You do laundry all the time. Just grab a couple armfuls of the dirty clothes in your hamper and put them in.” There’s a sigh. A mutter. A mumbled “Why do I hafta do the laundry? I don’t know how to do the laundry! Ugh I don’t want to do the laundry.” (Same, kid. Same.) But he goes upstairs, gets the clothes, comes down with them, and goes into the laundry room, which is in the hallway on the other side of the kitchen from where Quinlan and I sit. I hear the rustle of clothing being shoved into the washing machine. “Mom! What do I do now!” It’s called at top volume from the other side of the house. Me, calm: “You put in one of the laundry pods.” “But where are they?!” Me, sighing, but…

Some Little Lessons I’ve Learned from Pandemic Thanksgiving + Start of Covid Christmastime

Here are a few lessons I’ve learned over this Pandemic Thanksgiving + start of Covid Christmastime:   On the Wednesday before your it’s-just-us-this-year Thanksgiving, it’s really nice to cook the big meal with your kids while also not stressing about cleaning the house for company. You’ll miss the family you won’t be seeing, of course, but you will absolutely appreciate the calm. And the discovery that your twelve-year-old likes to chop vegetables.   On Thanksgiving Day, have dinner late so you can make a charcuterie board for lunch. No one will be upset about this.   On that Friday, clean the house in the morning before¬†you start pulling out all the decorations. Yes, you’re still going to have to vacuum up the needles after all is said and done, but you can’t beat decking the halls when they’re already sparkly. (Also, somebody spilled cranberry sauce on the floor yesterday. You have to get out the mop, anyway.)   On that Saturday, there’s no shame in counting a masked-up early-morning trip to Lowe’s…

Then Anything is Possible: Happy Thanksgiving

It’s 7:15 on Sunday morning. I’ve just sat down on the couch with a newspaper and the first, and therefore most precious, cup of coffee of the day. Cian’s already here in the living room playing, and he abandons his toys when I sit to climb up beside me and rest his head on my shoulder. He says good morning, and that’s where the expected slow start to my day goes into hyperdrive. “Mom?” he says. “If anything is possible, then nothing is possible.” I’m still in my pajamas. I’ve had one–one!–sip from the hot mug of coffee I still hold in my hand. I am not ready for seven-year-old philosophy yet, but Cian’s thought process moves at a speed that requires the under-caffeinated to catch up. I think for a second. Take another sip. “But, buddy,” I say, “think about this: the word ‘any’ can be all things. Like if we talk about ‘anyone,’ we’re really talking about all people. So what does that…