It's really comedian Chris Rock's fault. I was driving from one son's drop off to another son's pickup and remembered that I wanted to see the new Chris Rock show on HBO the other night.
Since in the course of family events it was quite likely Iâd miss it, I knew that I would need to tape it.
And thatâs when I knew-- in case Iâd had any doubt before: I was old school.
It's my own fault. I should have given my children a different name to call me. But when my first babe was an infant, it was such a natural thing to hold him close as his hot tears ran down my neck and croon "It's OK, Mommy's here.'"
As he grew, I encouraged it further. When, in the middle of the night, Iâd hear him pull himself in the crib, shaking the crib rail while saying âdadadad…
Too often we (I mean, me) focus on the dark side of things, the negative side of life. The grade your child didnât get on a test, or the laundry your husband left sitting in the washing machine as if it would get up and walk itself to the dryer. The crime, the economy, the school reassignments.
I'm going to tell you a secret. For four years, my kids have flown under the radar of Wake County reassignments. How has this happened? Weâve been part of the magnet school program.
Now I know that being in magnet is not a guarantee that one wonât be reassigned. And Iâm crossing my fingers that I havenât just placed a spotlight on my rising 6th graderâs application to …
I'm coming out. Not that way. (Not judgingâjust explaining.)
But if you look at my blog, youâll notice a real name. My name. When I first started with Triangle Mom2Mom, I had tried (and failed) in several attempts to start a blog on other venues.
What did I want to say? Who did I want to say it to? Should it be personal or business? Well, with such unanswered fundamental questions…
My sister and I are facing one of the most difficult decisions any child should have to face.
My mom, whom Iâve mentioned before, has end-stage Alzheimerâs. For those of you lucky enough not to experience this, this is what it means; she canât move, talk, eat regular food, recognize family, communicate in any way, or seemingly understand anything going on. Lovely.
Well, Mom land…
I'm feeling old. Just when I think I've somewhat managed a technological feat, yet another challenge comes along that proves that my brain cells truly are deteriorating.
Iâve gotten used to asking my kids (even my ten-year-old) for help with the computer. I even bought a Mac for its intuitive quality (and so I can feel smugly superior during the funny Mac/PC commercials).
I love my children - really I do. And yes, I have this preface to minimize the guilt in what Iâm about to say: when do they go back to school?
While I anticipate vacations as much as they do, once the days off actually come around, I find myself progressing from prickles of irritation to a slow simmer of resentment.
About three weeks ago, I decided to crochet a throw for my mother. Those who know me understand the ironies imbedded in that statement.
âCan you even crochet?â or âCan you crochet well?â or even âWill your mom even notice?â are all commonly thought but thankfully unexpressed questions.
The answer to them is a little, probably not and no.
In seven minutes, it will be Thanksgiving. Â
 A few weeks ago, I'd planned to start a gratefulness list that I'd add to each day the things that I appreciate.  Well, it didn't happen.  Life did instead, and I guess that's okay too.
Still, in the spirit of the holiday, I'd like to name a few things I'm thankful for.Â