My Articles:
A Parent’s Death
Two years ago today we got the call that you never want to receive. My dad had a heart attack and was being flown by helicopter to a hospital two hours away from his home. We didn’t know what was happening but my brothers and I immediately jumped on planes from our different corners of the country then drove a torturous five hours to his hospital in a remote part of Kansas. I remember that night, being forced to sit in the plane and then the car while wanting to do something, to see him, to help him.
Dad never liked doctors and trusted them even less when our mom died 10 years before. At 84, he was incredibly healthy for a man who smoked and liked to drink his beer and wine. A case of polio when he was a young man gave him weakness in his leg, but he still got out in the yard every day to work on his lawn and garden. When my son Ethan and I visited three months before, Dad happily participated in the Easter egg hunt albeit with a cane and we laughed together over the giant plate of ribs they served at the American Legion.
He seemed indestructible. Continue… »
The Day My Eight-Year-Old Called Cialis
We call it the “peep.” It started as a cute way to shorten “pee-pee” when he was a baby, then evolved into not-so-subtle Mom code in public for penis, as in “stop playing with your peep.”
Peep problems started early for our son Ethan when at four-years-old he was upset by unexpected erections that wreaked havoc with his growing sense of control.
One winter morning at a Lake Tahoe rental house, we were mortified when our friends heard his tirade through the bathroom walls. As we sipped coffee, he howled in frustration and told his “bad peep” that it needed to go down. We then dissolved into giggles as my husband took him aside in the next room and tried to calm him down with the “it’s a normal and natural part of life” speech.
Four years later we thought he was comfortable with his peep and would ask us if he had questions. Not so fast… Continue… »
Santa: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell
When did you stop believing in Santa Claus? Do you remember the exact moment, an event that happened to change your belief, or was it more of a gradual realization? As the holidays approach, I wonder if this is the year my eight-year-old learns the truth about Santa. Will he discover the inevitable or can we keep the magic going for one more year?
Last year was a close call. We always spend Saturday and Sunday of Thanksgiving weekend transforming our house into a Christmas wonderland. Candles, garlands and figurines grace our mantle, and ornaments we have collected for the last 10 years fill the tree. Continue… »
Don’t Judge a (Face)book by its Cover
It seems to be trendy to express contempt for Facebook. “I would never waste my time with that,” or “why would I care that someone is buying a sandwich?” are a few common retorts I heard recently. It fascinates me that socially liberal people who gladly accept anyone based on their race, gender or age quickly dismiss others based on their technology.
When I tell them I love Facebook, I am immediately downgraded in their opinion as someone whose mental age hovers around puberty. Continue… »
Circle Time
You know you’re a bad mother when your son’s second-grade teacher asks, “Now, whose mother are you?” and it’s two months into the school year.
When my son Ethan was in kindergarten, I volunteered every week in the classroom. Sorting paper and artwork, helping kids work on projects or reading aloud were a few of the more glamorous tasks while often I simply made photocopies. Whatever the work, it was reassuring to watch my son and his classmates and teachers interact, developing friendships or resolving conflicts.
Continue… »
