After years of sitting in offices reading blogs, Maggie Cheung became a stay-at-home mom to Jackson in May 2007. She admits her diaper-changing, playground-going, spoon-feeding lifestyle affords considerably less time for blog reading, but she infinitely prefers it to commutes and cubicles. Maggie is married to Phillip, The Devastatingly Handsome Chinese Man, and when they aren't coaxing the boy to eat his dinner, they are hunched over their respective laptops at the dining room table. Maggie strongly believes in the parenting philosophy known as Whatever Works, even if her personal website is all about detailing her many failings in this area. She hopes to do a better job of not freaking out with her second baby, a daughter, who arrived in September 2008. Visit Mighty Maggie's blog.
Over the last several years makeup ceased to be a sort of "fun collection of art supplies for my face" and morphed into "the paint and spackle necessary for me to show my mug in public." Where I once swiped on some mascara and lip gloss and called it good, I now rarely leave the house without a full coating of concealer and powder. I mean, my kids may be used to my Morning Face, but I don't want to scare the other children, you know?Read Full Post
I know I shouldn't do this. My mother has told me not to do this. My kindergarten teacher sister has recommended I not do this. I have told myself not to do this every time I think about the first day of preschool, but I ignore all of those voices and chase after my baby. I follow him down the hall. I say, "Let me help you with your coat! Let me show you!" Read Full Post
It was my fault. I needed to Address Something right that minute. Before anything else could distract me. While my brain was full of thinking about it. But - shockingly! - my husband did not immediately capitulate to my demand! And -shockingly! - I did not let it go! We really are two gloriously stubborn people, and once we're In It we are IN IT. The kids at that point are reduced to Innocent Bystanders.Read Full Post
My baby turned two yesterday. She is toddling and talking and oh dear God wearing UNDERPANTS but I don't care, she is my BABY. My sweet little chubby-cheeked precious darling BABY. Who is busting out of her size 18 month footie pajamas. GAH.
My baby is two and you guys, I can barely remember the days when I had Two Under Two. Oh the accolades I received for something so arbitrary as parenting Two Under Two. To me it was simply the way it was, and I rarely interpreted the not-even-sixteen-month age difference as My Cross to Bear or Lot In Life or what have you. It was tough, it was definitely a lot of work, but isn't that the case no matter how your children are spaced? (I recently spoke with a woman whose two children are twelve months and one day apart. Now THAT woman is allowed her accolades.)
Fairly soon I'll voluntarily commit myself to the psychiatric ward and the head shrink will scribble "two-year molars" on my chart. The nurses cluck their tongues sympathetically and give me extra drugs. I'll be in there so long my husband will tire of waiting for me and cite "two-year molars" on the divorce papers. The two-year molars are going to RUIN MY LIFE.
Before I had kids I used to worry about what I would DO with them. I mean, I liked kids and I certainly wanted some of my own, but talking to them? Playing with them? Um, no. Other people's kids would look at me blankly, waiting for me to somehow engage them which only filled me with inexplicable and completely ridiculous terror: what do they want from me?Read Full Post
Right now my kid is sitting on the floor in his room, surrounded, no, DROWNING, in puzzle pieces. I keep maybe a dozen wooden puzzles in his room and he often gets them out during "quiet time" (MORE ON THAT LATER). Today he pulled ALL the puzzles out and dumped out ALL the pieces and it's been forty-one minutes since I told him he has to put all the pieces back and put the puzzles away, or he can't come out of his room. Forty. One. Minutes. Read Full Post
It's official: Jack starts preschool on September 14. That's exactly 40 days. That's how long LENT lasts, people, and yet it seems like the first day of preschool is practically TOMORROW. I suppose time goes faster when you're not giving up chocolate and also worrying about sending your baby into the Big Crazy World.
Oh, do you think I'm being slightly ridiculous? I DON'T CARE! It took me forever and a day to decide to send him to preschool in the first place. Change is hard! Especially change that involves writing car payment-sized checks every month.
So there I was, hanging out at the Popular Neighborhood Play Area, minding my own business, by which I mean: MY OWN KIDS. I don't know about you, but I don't want to parent anybody else's children when hanging out at the Popular Neighborhood Play Area. It's been known to happen, of course, and when it does I blog about it. YOU ARE WELCOME. Read Full Post
Recently I read a blog post where the blogger was complaining about super busy weekends. She hated them. Too much to do! How exhausting! How did she get stuck with all these obligations? She just wants to RELAX! Why couldn't they just stay home and do NOTHING?
I have to tell you, dear readers: I could not relate to this blog post AT ALL.
I belong to the highly annoying class of people who look at an empty calendar or stare down an unplanned weekend and begin to panic. What will we DO? What do we need to get DONE? We can't sit around all day long! Relaxing - WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
