This is a vent. This is purely a vent. Should you like to read about actual problems in the world, go here. But back to me and my astronomical issues. I HATE CHANGING THE CRIB SHEETS. I really do. Taking off the crib bumper, pulling out the mattress, the tucking, the climbing. I hate it. I rarely do it. I also hate applying emolient lotions. We have a lot of them in my house. Jafta has eczema, Kembe's hair needs oil cream, . . .
swiftly fly the years
Jafta had his first day of kindergarten yesterday. With all of the chaos we’ve had in the last month, it really crept up on me, and I don’t think I anticipated how emotionally impactful it would be for all of us. He has been a little agitated over the past few weeks, and I wondered if it was nerves about starting school. But when I asked him, he seemed very positive and excited about kindergarten. Finally, the day before the first day, he broke down and told me he was . . .
the tattle tally, explained
Several people have asked me to explain the Tattle Tally. Before I share the details of this elaborate scheme, let me say this: Prior to having kids, I remember hearing moms correct their children for tattling, and I always thought, what’s the big deal? I mean, don’t you want your kid to come and tell you if someone else is doing something wrong? (Cue maniacal laughing of experienced parents everywhere). My kids started dabbling with the tattle routine when they started . . .
things in my house that i want to make out with
I am so very happy to be back in our house. Have I mentioned that? Because I am. Giddy happy to be home. I was going slowly insane in that hotel room during the month of August. I am too embarrassed to even mention how looney-tunes I was towards the end. I kept telling Mark, “I just need to get back in our house.” And he kept telling me, “You just need to relax”. And I kept telling him, “No, REALLY, I just need to get out of this hotel room and . . .
adoption resources, and a question (EDITED)
This will mostly be a random post of adoption-related links, but if you are an adoptive parent of a child who is dealing with attachment stuff, I would love your feedback on the last paragraph. But first: Several people pointed me to this article that Lisa Qualls wrote, and I really appreciated it. These points were especially poignant for me: In my first 20 years of being a mother, before adopting, I was never so stumped or so completely empty of wisdom as I have been at times in . . .
side-stepping the drama
We go to breakfast. Kembe points to what he wants on the buffet. “Sausage” he says with confidence, and points to the links. “Are you sure?” I ask. “You don’t like sausage.” “I WANT SAUSAGE” he says. I put sausage on the plate. A few minutes later, he appears to have discovered the sausage for the first time. He makes an attempt to throw it on the ground, and tells me that he doesn’t like sausage. I remind him that he asked for it. He . . .
stirring the pot: on reclaiming civil rights and taking back America
Glenn Beck, promoting his Restoring Honor rally held Saturday at the Lincoln Memorial, 47 years to the day after Martin Luther King spoke there, said: “ . . . we will reclaim the civil rights moment. We will take that movement, because we were the people that did it in the first place!'' I think it is really important to peel back the layers here . . . to get into the specifics, beyond the slogans. So . . . Who is the “we” he is talking about? And who is it that he is taking the . . .
GWO CHEVE: for Haiti, or for spite
Gwo Cheve = Big Hair I think you all know my love for the country of Haiti. I would like to say that this post is an extension of that love. I think that it mostly is. But also . . . . I like getting even with people. And this is an opportunity to get back at one John McHoul for the smack talk from him over our years of visiting Haiti. This man may appear to have at heart of gold at the surface – I mean sure, he has devoted his life to serving the people of Haiti in . . .
how to avoid oversharing in online spaces (keeping it real link-up)
We are officially back in our house after the Great Flood and Exile of 2010. We’ve been a little back and forth over the past week – packing up the hotel room, unpacking boxes at home, escaping to the hotel when there was too much construction going on here, and then retreating to our house at night when it was empty. We’ve all been coughing and hacking from the drywall dust. That or we have mesothelioma from all the asbestos we’ve been living with for the past seven . . .
goodbye, suite life
I won’t miss: The hallway they called a “living room” Sitting in dark silence waiting for the kids to fall asleep Forgetting my key every time I leave the room Lugging our things in from the parking lot The four-foot pool, and fighting with Jafta over why we couldn’t spend all day there Picking out smashed goldfish from the carpet Two active boys bouncing off the walls as I work on my syllabus Trying to shush my loud kids in the hallway Getting the side-eye from the mean blonde lady who . . .
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