As a mother I know my every move is being carefully recorded and dissected by my daughter; my mini-me, my living, breathing shadow. Whereas when she was younger, and more easily distracted by shiny objects; i.e. her attention could be diverted by a candy necklace or a new video, I wasn't as concerned that my every action would become a finely etched memory in her consciousness. But as she's … [Read more...]
Your kid will be happy with a glass of chocolate milk
I really have tried hard not to succumb to the parenting pressures evidenced all around me-- this need in our culture to shower our kids with stuff and experiences. My husband ever the grumpy pessimist has on one too many occasions uttered the statements, "Kids will be happy with whatever you give them- even if it's just a cardboard box." Of course my husband, who admits he's from a generation … [Read more...]
My son¦the dancer?!
I never thought I'd be one of those moms. The mom who flinches when her five year old son asks if he can take a dance class. I hate admitting my reservations about his request. Don't get me wrong, it's not that I stuff his little body in a straight jacket and forbid him to move his body to music. Quite the contrary. Ever since he was named, Best dancer of the summer at his day camp, (although I'm … [Read more...]
My nine year-old says she’s done with her princess days
Forget about my kids; I'm the one having major growing pains. After accidentally clicking on a folder on my computer which contained pictures of my nine-year-old daughter as a cherubic toddler scampering about- I found myself overwhelmed with sadness. Okay, I was weeping uncontrollably for a solid five minutes as I clicked through a dozen or so files, charting her progression from baby to now … [Read more...]
When you’re a parent Sundays are never the same
When my husband and I were living the good life in Brooklyn Heights, in my our two-floor loft ( don't get excited it was only about 750 square foot and had a leaking roof that we could never quite fix no matter how many handy men took at stab at it) Sundays were spent lazily reading the New York Times, gardening on our deck, perusing estate sales, biking over the Brooklyn Bridge to Battery Park … [Read more...]