I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat animals and restaurant servers. Even if you aren’t an animal person, and honestly, I don’t think I am, there’s still a way to create creatures with respect and kindness. My husband and I had many early dinner dates, and I was always impressed with how he treated wait-staff. He was polite but not flirty with the pretty ones, and he always tipped well but not gratuitously. And he had a rescued greyhound that he took amazing care of, so I knew that he was a decent human being. But there was one event that happened early in our relationship that really helped me see the kind of man he was.
After our daughter was born, I realized I needed to give up some control in order to quit nagging my husband. I could no longer micro-manage trash day, toilet scrubbing and the proper placement of towels after a shower. I needed to begin to trust that even without my seemingly gentle reminders, things would get done.
For most of us, a new year is synonymous with a brand new you. But what happens if we resolve to simply quash the self-improvement urge? This new year, I resolve not to resolve. Don't confuse my promise not to improve as a refusal to grow or change. It's just that after seven-and-a-half months as a first time mother, I'm tired of feeling like I could be doing more. Doing better. Slowing down. Enjoying the moment. All while anticipating the next milestone and celebrating accomplishments. And then, wishing time would slow down; because after all, they're growing up too fast.
When I got married I knew we were combining two families, and I knew that blending holiday traditions would be challenging, but I completely underestimated how challenging.
The person who's the hardest for me to surprise isn't our kids, it's the studly 34-year-old who shares my bedroom. It isn’t because he snoops, though. He’s pretty cooperative like that. We’re just such a team and make a habit of being so transparent with each other, that any deviation creates a disturbance in the force.
The working mom vs. stay at home mom debate is one that has gone on for decades. As a work-at-home mom, or WAHM, I lie somewhere in the middle. And while I am very thankful for this, I also want it to be said: WAHMing ain't easy.
Buy, buy, buy. I cringed that the verb was dominating my Christmas to-do list, and it wasn't even December yet. Looking back on my childhood, I remember magical moments with my family more than I remember specific gifts. I want my kids to have these kinds of memories, too, and not just a solid lesson in materialism...
This trap is so easy to fall into for moms who don’t work outside the home. Maintaining our appearance is something that we can bump down a long to-do list, until it’s so far buried we forget it was ever a priority.
Now that I'm divorced and a single mother, I don't have much of a social life. Finding quality, eligible men feels more like a pipe dream. Meanwhile, my expectations and standards for a potential boyfriend are much higher now that I have children. And at my age I have a low tolerance for losers.
Apparently some restaurants have recently gambled that they’ll gain more adult business if they ban the below knee-height crowd. The concern about the parents paying for said short children is outweighed by all the single folks who the owners think will be attracted by their less sticky establishments. As a mom, I think I should probably be offended by this, but I’m not. My husband and I are planning a date night out for our upcoming anniversary (go, team), and a sitter is definitely in the works. I’m looking forward to a night without children – and if I’m paying for a night without mine, I probably don’t want to have to listen to yours.