jenbilly's blog

Working Didn't Do It.

Just watching "Good Morning America" and heard Somer Thompson's mother tell Robin Roberts that she feels if she wasn't a working mom this horrible tragedy wouldn't have happened.  Isn't that sad?  Have the mommy wars gone so far that it now makes sense for a working mother to consider herself as much to blame for her daughter's abduction as the perpetrator? It's natural to try and…

Tummy Bug

Friday night my son came to our room to tell me his stomach hurt. Then he threw up on the floor.  He's ten, and it always happens this way.  (At least he manages to get downstairs, where the floors are wood instead of carpet.)  This time, it was a tummy bug.  (Other times it's been too many hotdogs.)  And since he'd eaten blueberries with dinner, what came out was alarmingly like…

What's Wrong with Soccer Moms?

In the Fall Makeover issue of In Style Magazine, Brooke Shields is asked why she won’t cut her long hair.  She responds, “I could so easily look like a soccer mom.”

Measure of a Mom

Sometimes motherhood is a strangely schizophrenic experience, a fight between dueling personalities I call the Mom and the Contender.     

The Tyranny of Goggles

Over the past three-weeks, I have adjusted goggles approximately 10,000 times.

Too Cool for Lovey (Almost)

Remember when Marcia Brady had to choose between nice but ordinary Charlie and dreamy Doug Simpson?  It was the timeless “Oh, my nose!” episode.  (My kids have the series on DVD.  It comes in green shag box.  This is currently my cultural touchstone.)

What to do about bad dreams?

My dad is a trained scientist who does not believe in sugarcoating the facts, even when dealing with children. That’s why when my five-year-old sister asked what happens after we die, he explained the inevitable rot of carbon-based life forms. She had bad dreams for years.

Handling the Truth

We were relaxing at the pool when this little girl came up and unloaded a lie.  A big one.  The kind that’s a whole lot of “I am not a crook,” and very little of “No, those jeans don’t make you look fat.”

I Forgot

No housewife-abducting alien spacecraft could have done a better job deleting the details of daily life than these two young children I am rearing.  My formerly competent mind is wiped utterly clean.  I have no memory.  No ability to recall.

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