You can’t get on the internet, turn on the TV, or read a newspaper (does anyone still actually read newspapers any more?) without seeing some headline about a parent “under fire” for doing something. Granted, the term “under fire” is catchy, it GRABS your attention, but don’t parents deserve a break? And just who, exactly, are they under fire from? Continue reading
If you ever really want to upset a mom, particularly a young, overworked, often frazzled stay-at-home mom, and you happen to see her out without her kids, say on an evening or a weekend, ask her something like “if you’re out, who is watching your kids?” or worse “hey, is your husband babysitting? Isn’t that nice of him?” I have it on good authority that they HATE this, the thinking being that the children are just as much the husband’s/father’s responsibility as they are the mother’s, and that’s not called babysitting, it’s called parenting. Period.
Slide and death trap
Since we’ve been spending a lot of time on Memory Lane, I’m going to keep it going with an examination of the scab-ridden woes of childhood. Safety for kids seems like an oxymoron in light of some of the things I’ve seen recently.
I was in Denver looking through old family photos. From age 3 to about 9, I was on giant bruise. Here’s me eating a waffle with a completely scabbed-over nose. Here’s me with a scab in the shape of my glasses’ frames around each eye, the result of a collision during an ill-advised game of un-PC “Smear the queer.” I had no idea what queer meant, but I sure loved to tackle people. Continue reading