Category Archives: parenting

Girly Cupcakes

Posted on February 1, 2012 by wendy| 2 Comments

Just so you know, the Hubs said I shouldn’t blog about this, so Hello! You’d think he’d have learned by now….

This post is brought to you by Facebook and its new anti-privacy rules, because it was a friend of a friend who I have never heard of who posted this photo and my friend, a guy I actually do know, “liked” it.

Which apparently means the whole world gets to see it now, in case you just got out of that coma don’t know Facebook is raping you daily, right now.

Hold onto your britches. Take a gander at the girly cupcakes:
Puts new meaning in the term variety pack, eh?

Okay, focus, readers. Are ya with me? I posted this because I want to ask if you think it was would be outrageoushorrendousdisgusting of me to show this photo to my eight-year-old daughter?

Purely, a hypothetical question, Mrs. Child Protective Services, for the purposes of discussion.

I mean, if I did, I wonder if my child would guess right away what she was looking at or needed a hint from me.

I wonder if she’d then drop her jaw first, and then with a twinkle in her eye, her own drawers to show me hers as comparison to the frosted ones.

I also wonder if young girls should possess a relaxed, secure knowledge of their amazing, delicious cupcakes body.

Purely hypothetical, ya’ll. Don’t go get your panties in a–oh, never mind.

What do you think? Would you show a daughter and not a son? Is age a factor?

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Posted in brilliant ideas, creativity, education, food, kid, parenting, questions, weirdo

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This is the kind of thing that happens when lawyers are mommies.

Posted on January 5, 2012 by wendy| 6 Comments

["Dear tooth fairy, I lost my tooth that I lost today. I am really sorry that its not here....We swear the above statement is true."]

During the holidays, the Kid was inconsolable at losing the tooth she had just lost, so I suggested a letter to the tooth fairy (btw, Santa she is beginning to question, but the tooth fairy…this is more believable?), and all the adults would swear it was true. No, we had no notary, but it calmed her anyway. We hoped the tooth fairy would go on the honor system.

And she did! Whew! Close one!

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Posted in brilliant ideas, creativity, education, kid, parenting

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Battlefield Friendship

Posted on November 18, 2011 by wendy| 4 Comments

I hope it’s not just my kid. I hope I didn’t give birth to the world’s biggest drama queen. And I hope it’s not genetic since I’m a cool cucumber all the time. I hope other 8-year-old girls have friendships like this:

My weak and sober heart just can’t take the brutality of it all.

Who does she love? Who does she hate? Who is she never going to let set foot in our house ever ever (not ever) again until possibly tomorrow?
‘Cuz one day, she’ll have friends, and not Facebook “friends” she has never met, but actual people who understand her, people who get her jokes and her strikeouts, people who she’ll totally jump in front of a bus for or at least sit through their looooooong venting sessions well, more likely her long venting session and nod compassionately, pretending to listen because they love you even though you’re a psycho.
And if she ever blows up and loses a kindred spirit, she will find it leaves a permanent mark worse than that Sharpie marker incident. Yes, friends need to roll with a friend’s occasional sassiness, absolutely particularly if she’s freakin’ hilarious, right?!

But sooner rather than later, I hope she learns quicker than her mommy a smidge of gentleness with those special ones.

Is that even teachable? And how?

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Posted in education, growth, kid, parenting, questions

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School started.

Posted on September 2, 2011 by wendy| 2 Comments

‘Nuff said.

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Posted in education, kid, parenting

A Motherly Confession

Posted on August 17, 2011 by wendy| 2 Comments

It’s time I confessed. See, there is something I’m ashamed to admit.

I don’t know why. I mean, others have probably gone through the exact same thing. Why should I want to hide it?

I’m talking about my case of PTSD, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and absolutely nothing else.

What event occurred to cause these symptoms (according to the Mayo Clinic definition)?
PTSD:
Feeling emotionally numb
Avoiding activities you once enjoyed
Hopelessness about the future
Trouble concentrating
Difficulty maintaining close relationships
Irritability or anger
Overwhelming guilt or shame
Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much
Being easily startled or frightened
Hearing or seeing things that aren’t there

What happened is that since she lost gave up her last sippy cup, the Kid knocks over her drink every freakin’ time. On me. Everywhere, our house, Disneyland, restaurants, airports, our house, the ferry, someone else’s house, our house. Every. Where.

I’ve got the nervous twitch to prove it. Just bring us our beverages make mine a double, and I’ll show you.

And I have those symptoms. I avoid giving her drinks unless she’s choking; I swear I hear the dumping sound of a full cup of milk when there is no cup; and I jump and gasp like a freakin’ kangaroo (yes, they gasp, pretty sure) if the Kid’s hand goes anywhere near anyone’s glass at any time in any place.

I am drinking too much ok, possibly not related; I don’t want to be anywhere close to her; I feel terrified of tall, skinny glasses (oh, SO tippable); and I feel hopeless about the fact that she will never ever stop doing this.

It has made me irritable screw you, that’s why, I tell you!, and I have trouble concentrating which is wholly unrelated to Twitter or Facebook usage.

The first step is awareness, right? So, there we go. Hello, PTSD!

Now, I’d like a sippy cup of Grey Goose, please, while I go online to order more quick-dry pants.

Are you suffering any known diseases? Don’t be ashamed! Confess!

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Posted in food, kid, me-me-me, parenting, weirdo

Pickup Sticks

Posted on August 9, 2011 by wendy| 5 Comments

He may have his own 18th century view of parenting, but I gotta hand it to the Hubs. He has figured things out with the Kid.

We all know he’s a total Alaskan gearhead (and I have the blog posts to prove it…), so natch, he’s got a cross- oops, I’ve been corrected compound bow. And plenty of raccoons roaming around a target in our yard for practice so I recommend you call first.

Yes, this was taken in our yard.

But, guess what? As of this summer, he not only has a bow, he’s got a personal arrow retriever, namely, the Kid.

And the beauty of it? She wants to do it. She charges out of the house if he starts a-flingin’.

Whaaaaa?

Just how did he accomplish this great feat? I have no idea.

I’m wondering if he can start flinging her dirty socks across the living room.

Now, that would be helpful. Pick up those, Kid.

Of course, she is her mother’s daughter, so throughout practice he does have to endure a certain level of, shall we say, critiquing?

Dad, you missed! Dad, oh my God, that was SO FAR from the middle! AHAHAHAHAHA! Dad, I farted!

It’s hard to find good help these days.

Have you ever trained your kid to love some chore? Please share!! Maybe I can learn something!!

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Posted in Bainbridge Island, WA, brilliant ideas, education, kid, outside, parenting

Summer is a Battlefield

Posted on June 30, 2011 by wendy| 2 Comments

Last weekend, I dragged the Let the dog in! household to a civil war re-enactment, but since the civil war was more sad than funny I know nothing about the civil war, how’s about we talk s’more about summer with the kids out of school, ‘k??

It starts off with a gorgeous image, a vision of calm, peaceful order and an appreciation of community and the natural beauty in all life.

You imagine you’ll have lovely, relaxing chats with your friends and neighbors.

As the natives declare they’re BORED get restless, you quickly realize you have a big, white target “X” on your back.

You scramble to entertain the enemy your kids with music and fun, perhaps an outdoor concert.

But even the littlest soldiers revolt.
(with the very littlest fighters yelling, “BANG,” instead of firing an actual gun)

Before the actual altercations began, you fashioned yourself the guy with the biggest, loudest gun on the field, but, alas, you need to fix a martini a reality check.

In the end, your fate turns out more like the band.

And your living room, strewn with popsicle sticks dead bodies that no one is picking up…

If you’re lucky, some summer camp instructor angelic vision will come to pray for your soul.

What month is this? September, right? Whaaa?

Do you have war on your hands or a peace treaty?

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Posted in creativity, events, growth, outside, parenting, venting, weirdo