Everything’s Coming Up Roses and Thorns
I was chitter chattering with my kids before school and reacted to something my son Wally said. Vivvi, my nine year old, proceeded to roast me in the most elegant fashion. The girl doesn’t need wit or poetry to take me down to a humble level—just the tools in her toolbox she has been perfecting since birth: expression and imitation. Photo by Jennifer Heim Photography At first when she started…
Ode from My Five-Year-Old: A Celebration of Love
My 5-year-old daughter, Vivvi, loves love. Everyone in the house, including Viv, tries to deny it. Wally, her older brother, lists as one of his favorite things about her: that she pretends to be dark. A few months ago, some minor drama had caused me to give her a life lesson teaching, telling her we all stand for something and all of her decisions have to be based on what she stands for. So what…
Why I Don't Say Yes If My Daughter Asks If She Is Pretty
I am excited and honored again to be published on Mamalode. It's about my one of my favorite topics—talking about beauty with our girls. Hope you enjoy! Why I Don't Say Yes If My Daughter Asks If She Is Pretty, Mamalode, April 18, 2017
One Way or Another: A Christmas Story
I went to pick Wally V up from his Sunday morning class after our church service last Sunday. “Do you want to go home and get ready?” I asked. He looked at me and burst into tears, “My head hurts!” he balled. I escorted him through the crowds and to the car, feeling like a bad mom for not having noticed he might be sick. You see, it was all working out perfectly, according to my plan. Husband…
5 Tips for Pretend Play: A Survivor's Guide
I am gathering the last few things we need for the morning of errands—snacks, water, a sucker for a bribe—and my daughter, slight pixie fairy surfer girl with her sweet, sweet curls hanging down her back wearing a full Spiderman suit makes herself as tall as possible (up to my waist) and stands in my path. "Can we play Beanie Boos?" she asks, her already high bubble voice impossibly higher than…
On Thinking Like a Child
Yesterday I woke up and went to the kitchen to make my coffee. We have a craft table in the kitchen, which I garbage picked a few months ago on a walk. (We were a few blocks away from home when I spotted it on the curb ready to make its trip to the landfill. I could hear the garbage truck a few blocks away. We live in a town where some people believe it is acceptable to throw away a…
No Sleeves: On Life with a 3 Year Old
Once, when I had just graduated college, I was in the grocery store dairy aisle. These were the glory days (grocery shopping-wise), when a trip to the grocery store did not mean putting on 3 coats and 6 shoes to get out the door, unbuckling 3 people, trying hard to make sure no one died in the parking lot, trying to execute a pre-planned route through the store before the inevitable melt down…
Why I Don't Tell My Daughter She's Beautiful
When Vivvi was a baby, people constantly told me how much she looked like me. And occasionally, I looked at her and it was like looking in a mirror that reduces your age by 31 years. It took my breath away—this feeling that I was born again 31 years later and got to meet myself. But then at around 2 years old she stretched out, lost some of her chubby cheeks, and people stopped saying it. (I have…
Sibling love: On the Brother and Sister Connection
Wally and Vivvi were arguing about which show to watch. She wanted "Jake the Pirate." He wanted "Sofia the First." He convinced her to his side by offering to give her an old dust buster he found laying around. They sat happily on the couch together, her holding the broken appliance, both totally engaged in the tales of the girl-next-door turned princess. (Husband Wally insists that this was a…
The Big Brother, Or, The Knight in Ripped Jeans
Follow my blog with Bloglovin Vivvi got a mild case of pink eye. I brought the drops home and Vivvi happily let me do the first round of drops—she didn't know what was coming. The next time, we had struggle and tears. By the third round, this was a two man job. I pinned Vivvi down on my lap and forced her eye open. Husband Wally held the drops, and we tried to coax her to open her eyes. We ran…