Maija Threlkeld
About this author:
Maija Threlkeld and her husband are being raised by their three young children. Days of playdough are balanced by her work as a brand consultant, where she’s helped develop familiar brands and names for corporate clients. Writing provides an outlet for those humorous moments of life that should never, never be missed.
My Articles:
Potential Havoc: Mom’s Sick
“Whoa,” is my immediate response. I hesitate after this initial jolt and then pull up again, trying to lift my heavy throbbing head off the wet pillow.
My condition shouldn’t have been a surprise. After all I’d been up throughout the night gasping for water and trying to double up the blankets around my shivering frame.
I blink back at the clock, trying to register the urgency of getting up after five snooze alarms. My throbbing head cradles the pillow, which feels like a rock rubbing a sore. You’ve got to get the kids ready for school. You’ve got to get the kids ready for school. It registers: a checklist of actions dart across my numb brain. The recognition of how impossible actual racing through the morning is also registers, and compels me to try again.
Not a Girly Girl
My seven-year daughter isn’t into Barbies. Or the lip-lined Bratz dolls with their wide, disinterested gazes.
She’s not into princesses either – “They don’t do anything,” she once explained – or the color pink.
None of the “girly stuff” for her.
Chock Full of Vitamins & Minerals
My son is flopped on the beanbag tuned to the Discovery Channel on TV. I justify this past time as post-preschool “downtime.” He’s watching The Magic School Bus whose episode today is all about energy expansion. So it’s educational downtime. It’s also cold and cloudy out with a big chance of rain.
Truth be told, I need to get to my work so I’ve turned on the tube.
From the behemoth beanbag I hear my son call, “Can we get that cereal? I want it!” I look up to see the tail end of a sugary cereal commercial. It’s a rare occasion when my kids see such commercials given their general scarcity on cable kiddie channels. But this one had him hook-line-and-sinker.
Unhappy Grocery Hour
Bewitching hour at the grocery store.
Dare to venture into Safeway between four-thirty and eight at night, or whenever your kids start to melt down in the evening.
Over the din of crying babies and the glare of fluorescent lighting a chemical imbalance occurs in children. I’ve seen kids go from complacent and mute to wild-eyed Mr. Hydes determined to torment their parents. Tired, testy parents are forced to brush past other tired and testy shoppers in single-lane aisles.
Oh, the horror.
Monster with Boobs
Lately my five-year old has been drawing profusely after school.
Yearning for a Siesta
My eighteen-month old is in her crib, arms stretched out around her head, her little face a picture of calm, blissfully off in dreamland.
Sound asleep.
And I’m envious.
But Wait, We’re Still Summering
I’m lounging in my pajamas again, on a school morning at that. Why not? There’s no need to race from the shower in order to beat the family morning rush with wet hair. Instead I’ve gotten used to actually reading the newspaper cover-to-cover before the kids stampede down the stairs. My day is beginning with a quiet, peaceful morning graced with a strong, aromatic cup of coffee.
Corduroy in 90 Degree Fall Heat
For longer than I care to admit I have bought into the concept of “fall back-to-school fashions” as envisioned by retailers nationwide. Back to school fashion means abandoning faded T-shirts and khaki shorts for autumn-hued sweaters and thick corduroy trousers to wear stomping in crackly maple leaves.
Or hopping off the ubiquitous yellow school bus in cable-knit stockings and solid jean jumpers with the smell of wood burning in fireplaces wafting through the cold, still air. Perhaps a dapper plaid hat is added to the mix? A comfy scarf wrapped around the neck? Brown leather shoes!
Yes, fall has arrived!
Becoming the Mother I Would Like to Be
I’ve had years to decide what kind of Mom I would be. The criteria has been honed and re-honed in my head through the decades but always delivered with great conviction and certainty.
I started my “note to self” list as a child. Ogling the enormous, multi-tiered candy display at the grocery store after hearing Mom’s denial I vowed that my kids would get all of the candy they wanted! (I suspect the same declaration was made about toys, too.)
Now the thought of all that sugar combined with our inherited sweet-tooth would be… cruel! The visual is already interrupted by a deep “no way!” bellowing from my head.
In high school I swore that I would never be one of those moms who leave the house with curlers in her hair! Or an uncool outfit! Or just lookin’ like some frumpy mom.
Hanging Onto Hair
I got my hair chopped. Chopped as in scissors liberally snipping at my increasingly exposed scalp. A salon chair surrounded by little piles of my locks. And the white skin on the back of my neck revealed for the first time in years.
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