Thursday, March 22, 2012
What happens when a 3-year-old makes the whole world his urinal?
Back in January I gave myself the Proud Parent Potty Training Award. Quinn, my 3-year-old, had been housebroken. Well, actually, maybe I should just say we were down to wearing a diaper only to bed. The week I trained him we were at the Tybee beach. He enjoyed his freedom to pee in the backyard, on the beach, on walking trails and quite honestly wherever he wanted as long as it wasn’t in his pants. I was OK with that for the period of “training.” It’s not as if anyone was watching or even near us at any of these “training” moments. Over the past few months of his success I have noticed it might not have been “training” in his eyes. He has a true passion for peeing in the outdoors. Many of you may say, “Oh, that’s just little boys.” I hope …
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Parenthood is not only the official title of being a parent, it’s the call sign for an elite group of people that need A LOT of help. All parents should have a support system. I've found my support online with The Hot Miracle Mommas'.
Nearly three-and-a-half years ago I found myself searching for something that I had no clue I needed. I was pregnant again after a miscarriage. We had started trying and were successful. Now I just had to make it through the next nine months of anxiety over every cramp. My friends were all done having their kids, my mom was occupied with my grandmother, my husband was working like crazy and there I was alone with my stress. I joined a babycenter.com forum. Some of the pregnant women were rookies, some were veteran moms and some had suffered a miscarriage as well. Over the first couple months our group, like our babies, continued to grow. The planets and stars had been aligned somehow because there we were… 50 pregnant women with crazy …
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Once you’re a mother, are you really ever anything else?
I pass the dark mahogany table that stands in my family room, with its long leaves that fold down almost to the ground, every day. My mom brought it to me after my grandmother’s death – after she, her sister and her sister-in-law split up my grandmother’s belongings among the various members of the family, including the eight grandchildren. It is a gorgeous table, and I often admire its beauty. But sometimes when I pass it, I also think of its origins and feel a pang of guilt. Guilt? From a table? My mom tells me that the table came from her grandfather’s great-grandfather’s plantation, called Stony Hill, in Virginia. This plantation used slaves for labor, making my ancestors slave owners. I have felt a strong sense of shame since I …
