Posts Tagged Under Writing Mamas
Life Goes On and On
I got married last night.
Maya hopped out of the bath, as I held up her black and red with white polka dots Minnie Mouse towel, and kissed me on the lips.
“Now we’re married,” she said.
“Sounds good to me.”
I was actually not surprised about my daughter’s and my sudden nuptials just a little over nine months since her mother, Verna, died. Last weekend, I had scooped up the bride’s garter at a wedding I officiated amid a cluster of guys who exhibited as much enthusiasm as sloths doped up on sleeping pills. So I was just fulfilling my destiny.
Maya and I seem to have sailed, though, into the turbulent waters that confront almost all newlyweds. She told me this morning that, “I wish I didn’t have a daddy.”
My crime? I said she needed to finish her entire breakfast, a tiny swatch of quesadilla and a few pieces of scrambled eggs. Continue… »
By StevenFHow to Find a Big Deal
In a former life I was a bargain shopper.
That was my job. I would write about and appear on TV to talk about sales. My bestselling guide was called The Joy of Outlet Shopping.
And it was a joy. Shopping. Saving money.
Then I had kids. I have never over-spent so much in my life.
But things are changing. With the advent of smart phones a bargain is right on my phone. How great is that? Continue… »
By Dawn YunA Bit of Magic
As the soon-to-be mother of twin girls, I joined a Twins Club a couple of months before their arrival. It was a great way to meet other moms of multiples. As a relatively new mom, I joined hoping I could learn from them the ins and outs of having twins, what to do, what not to do, plus members bring dinners to new moms and their families! Our adopted son was just eight months old when his sisters were born, so it was like having triplets. At least he was sleeping through the night, so I only had to do late night feedings for two, instead of three.
What I was not prepared for during initial Twins Club meetings was moms talking about their pregnancies. Three years prior I experienced the loss of our son due to premature birth at six months gestation. Because of health reasons, I was unable to carry the girls, but was fortunate to have an amazing sister who carried them for my husband and me. While I was extremely thankful for the gift my sister gave us, it was difficult to be around the group of moms when discussions turned to, “How many weeks did you go?” or “Did you have to go on bed rest?” Continue… »
By Teri StevensAn Only Child Doesn’t Have to be Lonely
It’s getting near bedtime, and my son won’t leave our neighbor’s house. “I haven’t played enough,” he insists after spending an entire day with our neighbor’s kids.
An afternoon at the Exploratorium wasn’t enough. Alex had a grand time with Samma, sticking their hands in everything from fog machines and sand art spinners to enormous bubble blowers and beach balls suspended on a cannon of air. As the parent in tow, I felt like I was part of a giant Rube Goldberg machine, chasing my three-year-old and a kindergartener who have enough energy combined to power a steam train.
I got a chance to play Mom to more than one child, and my son had a taste of life with siblings for the day.
By Li Miao LovettMy Husband Has a Crush on a Bald Frenchman
I’m not a jealous person by nature but sometimes at night when it’s time to go to bed, instead of following me into the boudoir, my husband, hypnotized by the glow of his laptop will murmur, “I’ll be there in a minute.”
And then I start to seethe.
He’s not coming to snuggle with me under the sheets because he’d rather watch videos on Youtube. Specifically, clips of French Algerian soccer star Zinedane Zidane. Most likely, my husband is watching the “best of” video of “Zizou” (as the superstar is known to his fans), a montage of the best career shots edited down to seven minutes against the backdrop of Coldplay’s “I Will Fix You.”
My husband loves watching Zidane zigzag across the field past other world-class soccer players. If I’m in the room, I get dragged to the computer.
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The True Meaning of Easter
I celebrated Easter long before I married a nice Catholic girl, which is why I labored so hard this year, as the sole and Jewish parent, to offer Miguel and Maya something substantive about the holiday.
My parents took me to Filley Pond in Bloomfield, CT, where I grew up, for the annual Easter egg hunt. Colored eggs, chocolate shaped bunnies, jelly beans, Easter bunnies in costume–all very cute and safe in a homogenized way for children of any and all religious backgrounds. But not what Easter is truly about, I think, any more than Christmas is just presents galore and a jolly fat man in a red suit.
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Baby, It’s Sunny Outside
With a last name like “O’Dwyer,” it’s no surprise that I’m a very pale person with skin that blisters and peels. I don’t step outside the house without sunglasses and a hat. Long sleeves? I wear ‘em, even when it’s a hundred degrees. Driving gloves, too, as soon as I buckle my seatbelt. Not because I fancy myself a superb driver, but because on the rare occasions when I don’t, half-a-dozen new freckles appear on the backs of my hands.
May is Skin Cancer Awareness Month, a joint venture of the American Academy of Dermatology and the American Cancer Society. New research suggests that up to 3 million Americans will be diagnosed with skin cancer this year. The most serious form, malignant melanoma, will kill about 8,420 people. Fortunately, malignant melanoma, like most skin cancers, can be cured if detected early.
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A Mom of Preemies Learns to Practice Patience
Michael & Wagner
My twins were born at just 25 weeks, 3 days’ gestation—15 weeks before their due date. Michael George weighed in at 1 lb, 12 ounces and his younger brother, Wagner Lee, weighed 1 lb, 9 ounces. Both were just over a foot long, the size of kittens, not babies. They were in the NICU for three months. Today, they are almost fifteen months old and weigh over twenty-five pounds.
Being a NICU parent is like parenting on steroids. Parents “on the outside” can live their entire parenting careers deluding themselves that they have some semblance of control over their children. But the truth is, children go and grow at their own rate. The most we can do as parents is guide their progress. We can’t control when our children crawl or read or get married. All we can do is facilitate crawling or reading or fostering healthy relationships and the worst we can do is hamper their progress.
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Traveling Light
I have always loved travelling. It’s the packing I hate. What to take, what to leave behind? Will it be hot or cold, dry or rainy? Packing when I was single was bad enough, but when I had my first child it was horrific.
Looking back on my first trip abroad to Spain with my six month old daughter, I think I may possibly have been a little insane. (Okay, a lot.) Unable to persuade me that it really wasn’t sensible to pack everything but the kitchen sink, my husband had given up in a huff and gone to mow the garden, while I ran around the house like a mad thing, throwing one item after another into the five huge suitcases we were taking for a two week holiday. Yes, five cases! And the fifth bag, infamously known as ‘The Black Hole’, was massive. Not really a suitcase, more an extra-over-sized hold-all.
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Daddy Gets a Fashion Makeover
I’m just not a fashionable guy. Until very recently I wore a fanny pack. I still wear argyle socks, though I’ve been told they are in fashion again. But I never knew they were in or out; I just like them.
Recently my family said that my blue jeans with the thick loop on the left side were out of date. I looked like an oversized Bob the Builder when I wore them.
My son Miguel said, “Dad, some guy from the 80s called. He wants his jeans back.”
But the accessory that elicited the most comments and insults was the fanny pack. I’d worn my ‘man purse’ since the 80s because it was a convenient place to hold my keys, sunglass case, wallet, mesh grocery bags, and change (as in coins).
One female co-worker went so far to say that she would never even date a guy who wore a fanny pack. In an effort to prove to her that a majority of women I know prefer substance over style, I randomly selected 12 friends and posed the question, Would you date a guy who wore a fanny pack?
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