Tag: parenting

Red Nails Revisited (or, Does This Make Me a Hypocrite?)

To say that the boy looked happy would have been an understatement.

There was an air about him, pride combined with confidence, with just the slightest hint of surprise. The missing tooth in his broad smile added an element of childish cuteness to his aura but I was particularly drawn in by his eyes. They were lit up with the rest of his face as he smiled but they also conveyed a sort of challenge to the camera.

“Check me out,” they seemed to be saying. “I caught this bad boy and I’m ready for anything else you want to throw at me.” Continue reading “Red Nails Revisited (or, Does This Make Me a Hypocrite?)”

How Do I “Do Diversity Right?”

“It didn’t even seem like they noticed,” she said to me.

We had just finished putting our apartment back in order after some friends had spent the late afternoon with us. E and S had put up much less of a struggle going to bed than I had anticipated, given that it was much later than usual and that the hyperactivity of entertaining company had not yet worn off. S had no doubt exhausted herself by trying to defend her territory against the other young girl who had come over (never mind the fact that the other girl was six months S’s junior and had very little interest in fighting). E, meanwhile, had pushed through the initial focus on the two girls and used up his energy convincing all four adult males to play board games with him.

“I mean, I’m glad they didn’t notice,” T added. “It’s just interesting; I don’t think we’ve ever had any black friends over to our apartment before.” Continue reading “How Do I “Do Diversity Right?””

Dear E, Love Mommy

Dear E,

I know Daddy usually writes these letters to you but I couldn’t help myself today. I am writing this as I sit down by the ocean and I watch you boogie board for the first time. E, you truly are one amazing kid. Just yesterday, I bought you your first boogie board and today you are already riding the waves. Your sense of determination is awe-inspiring; I couldn’t believe how you pushed yourself to bring the boogie board into the ocean on just your first day with it. You have grown into such a strong, independent young little man. I am so proud to be able to call myself your Mommy. Continue reading “Dear E, Love Mommy”

Be The Match, Part 1: Answering the Call

It was a Tuesday afternoon when I made the phone call, the kind of lazy summer day when everything seems slower. Even when work is busy during the summer, I feel like I’m walking through the shallow end of a swimming pool, dragging my feet and struggling to build momentum, while the world seems to continue rushing by. I’d been at my desk, slogging through a service plan or progress notes or some other task that isn’t the main reason why one chooses to go to social work school, when the small number “1” suddenly appeared in parentheses in one of my email tabs. I clicked on the email and immediately sat up straighter in my desk chair.

“You’ve been identified as a possible marrow match,” the email read. “Please call me immediately.” Continue reading “Be The Match, Part 1: Answering the Call”

A Little Night Music

T had been asleep on the couch for about a half hour when I woke her. It had been a long week for her, from shuttling S to errands and the beach to dealing with various bouts of sibling drama each evening. I had tried suggesting that she go to bed when I first saw her eyes starting to close but she protested that she was awake. I let the episode finish, knowing full well that I would have to fill her in on the details of the end of the show when she was ready to hear them later on. She began stirring when I rubbed her shoulder, lifted her head up and looked at the clock.

“I fell asleep,” she said, squinting up at me. “Sorry. Did you finish the episode?”

“It’s fine,” I answered. “You didn’t miss much.” Continue reading “A Little Night Music”

Eavesdropping on a Young Singer (or, What Makes “The Greatest Showman” Great)

I’d just come in from the kitchen to put my lunch in my bag when I heard it. It was soft, so much so that I almost couldn’t make out the words. I placed the tune immediately, though, and the words became clearer soon afterward.

“When the sharpest words wanna cut me down… I’m gonna send a flood, gonna drown them out…”

E was sitting at his table, building a Lego set or drawing a picture or working in his summer math book. He was completely engrossed in the task at hand and didn’t even notice that I had come into the room, let alone that I was listening to him singing to himself. He worked quickly, his eyes darting back and forth from the instructions to his manipulating fingers, his voice lilting ever so slightly as he sang each line.

“I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I’m meant to be. This is me.”

I smiled broadly and returned to the kitchen so I wouldn’t interrupt him. Continue reading “Eavesdropping on a Young Singer (or, What Makes “The Greatest Showman” Great)”

Unconventional Lullabyes

I made my way into the dark-ish room and closed the door softly so as not to wake E. It was still easy to see; the late sunsets of summer evenings meant that the light was still poking through the blinds, even though it was close to 8:00 PM. E had fallen asleep almost immediately after T and I had put the kids to bed a half hour earlier. S, though, had begun crying and was standing in her crib when I walked in.

“Mommy?” she asked expectantly, holding out her arms to be picked up.

“No, you’re not getting Mommy,” I answered. Continue reading “Unconventional Lullabyes”

Paid Paternity Leave and #DearFutureDads

A coworker and I were speaking recently about children. He doesn’t have any kids himself but he would like to one day. He mentioned that he struggles with anxiety, though, and that he worries about how that would manifest in his parenting. He asked me how T and I deal with the anxiety that comes with raising our kids.

“That’s why God made bourbon,” I answered with a grin.

Continue reading “Paid Paternity Leave and #DearFutureDads”

The Gift

“Wait, where is E?” T asked.

We had come to Citi Field to celebrate E’s birthday and to see the Cubs play the Mets.1 A baseball stadium was never a good place to lose a child, but especially not on his birthday.

We scanned our group quickly. My brother, his wife and their daughter were sitting in the row in front of us and my youngest brother, his wife and their young son were another row down. My mother and her husband were in that row, as well. I kept moving my head from side to side, trying to crane my neck around S, who was standing on my lap and dancing with the music blaring through the PA system, but there was no sign of E. Continue reading “The Gift”

Sanctuary

There was something about the building that made me stop.

I don’t often stop when I’m walking. I walk with a purpose, as all good city folk should, whether I’m making my way to an appointment or just running out to the store. I don’t rush, but I walk quickly, despite having a fairly long stride. I weave through clusters of people as I go, passing on the inside, outside or finding the space between, and I don’t hesitate to walk in the street when the sidewalk becomes too crowded. I glance around at my surroundings from time to time but generally keep my focus on the ground ahead of me so I don’t end up with unexpected surprises on the bottoms of my shoes.

But, that day, I stopped.  Continue reading “Sanctuary”

Verified by MonsterInsights