It was eighth grade. I was on a school field trip to some kind of cultural event related to Spanish class, culminating with a lunch at one of those large Mexican chain restaurants. I was wearing a lovely peach-colored dress, with a full flowy skirt: I was looking good (as long as you blocked out the braces, acne, and bad perm). I noted this as I checked my reflection in the restaurant restroom before I returned to my table. Looking good!
I walked across the entire restaurant to the appreciative stares of the clientele. Maybe they thought I was a model.
As I sat down, one of my friends leaned over, wide-eyed with concern, and said, “Kate, your skirt is tucked into your underwear in back!”
Sure enough, my peach flowy skirt was partially jam-stuffed into the back of my underwear. I had walked across the entire restaurant looking like that. To the appreciative stares of the business clientele AND THE ENTIRE EIGHTH GRADE. (Read more…)
You know how at the end of the day, when it’s time for the kids to retire for the night, and you’re secretly looking forward to it, craving some space, counting down?
And you bathe them and read to them and put them in pajamas (singing happy little ditties to yourself all the while) and all the children have to do is close their eyes and drift off into a nice, long sleep. But they won’t. In fact, they don’t want to stay in their cozy beds, but to jump on top of them. Or on top of yours. Or anything that will prevent shut-eye, which is what they (and you) really need.
Yeah. I know how that is too. Because Milo and Belle are engaging in such tomfoolery almost nightly. And there’s nothing worse, really, than thinking you’re Done. Done being mommy for the day, ready to, if not put on your miniskirt and red leather boots and go watch a band in the city, then to at least lay on the couch with a remote or good book. Except that you’re not really Done.
Belle’s favorite trick is to grab me with her sticky tentacle fingers, so tightly that, when I try to gently move away, she drags after me, like a trail of slime behind a slug (which, I guess, makes me the gastropod, but if the antennae fit…) (Read more…)
From time to time, I see those juicy little news bits that tell us how much moms would make in income if they were paid for all that they do. These figures come from totaling up the estimated salaries of chefs, chauffeurs, housekeepers, personal assistants, etc.
Personally, I think these lists only cover the tip of the parental iceberg. We switch gears 100 times a day, performing countless tasks that require a wide range of skills. Here, in no particular order, are just a few of the overlooked jobs I think should be calculated into the total sum: (Read more…)