Wordless Wednesday

Caught in the Act of Bad Parenting

My neighborhood heard me yelling at my daughter and was appalled.

My neighbor’s wife had a baby five months prior and he still has that new parent glow and enamored with everything his child does. He has yet to find unfinished math homework hidden under the bed or discover that his kid runs opposite of the ball in soccer.

I was my neighbor once.

Am I the Only one who Cares About my Popularity?

I was reminded of the challenges of raising a tween while shopping yesterday for back-to-school clothes with my 11-year-old.  Sounding more like a politician than a 6th grader, her response to an outfit I declared inappropriate was “Am I the only one who cares about my popularity?!”

Later, when I questioned what took her so long in the dressing room, she said she was “dancing in front of the mirrors.”  She said this in a tone that implied this was perfectly normal.

Then there were the cartwheels in the Skechers store.  Of course.

In Sickness and Health, Kids Don’t get Hung Up on the Details

Two of the girls in Savannah’s cabin at summer camp this year were missing a leg. How or why two people at such a young age could meet such a fate I’ll never know. When I pressed Savannah for an answer, I got the standard “Dunno!”

Daily Thought

“Your kids aren’t you.  You are the vessel to bring your children into the world and their caretakers until they can care for themselves. You can teach them, love them, and support them, but you can’t change them. They are unique individuals who must live their own lives. Let them.” Source: “Ultimate List of 50 Life Lessons You Must Learn,” LiveBoldandBloom

Wordless Wednesday

At the Washington Plaza Hotel pool in DC.

Pass Me The Crown: Next Life I Want To Come Back As A Princess

As I headed down 14^th Street in D.C. to pick-up breakfast at the local Cosi, I was reminded again that in my tiny single parent household there are no traditional roles.  By defacto, I am both the hunter and gathered.

It was still early and the DC streets were just starting to wake. There were clusters of homeless men loitering on street corners. “Can you spare some money pretty lady?” Hotel workers consumed cleaning their tiny patch of sidewalk. Young workers with Starbucks cups in hand, who with their J Crew looks, I pegged as working for a lobbyist or a Congressional aide. But, I’m from New York, so I assume everyone in D.C. works on The Hill.

Then came me: the gatherer-turned-hunter. Out early in search of food as my tribe of one waited back at the hotel.