Stories from March 2012


Kate Chretien

In the day-to-day grind of child-rearing, it’s easy to lose sight of the magic of our kids. I mean, between the whining and the fighting and whining while fighting and crayon-on-the-wall and weird rashes and OH LORD WHO’S CLEANING THAT MESS UP, I forget the magic. Magic: Poof. Gone.

But then, just when I need it the most, comes a moment.

This time, the magic came from Baby Emile. Although, can I even call him a baby anymore? I guess he’ll always be our baby (Please, Lord, no more ninja baby surprises,  kthxbye), but the child is now a year old and heavy enough to herniate your lumbar spine in like 2 seconds flat , so more of a Giant Baby, King of All Smaller Babies. My parents, who watch him often, now have his and her back braces and heating pads to recover from a babysitting session with him.

Well, today, we were playing on the floor and Emile pulled up to standing at the edge of the couch as he loves to do. But, this time, he turned and took several steps by himself.  All by himself.  Both arms went straight up. Thighs gorilla-crushed the carpeted landscape – right –left –right – left. And the look on his face? Pure triumph.  We’re talking Delight with a Capital D.

Back on the ground in a momentary recover, he threw his head back and roared happily. He scampered back up again and wobbled forth. Arms up. Teeter Totter. Triumph!  Over and over again I watched him in his cycle of new-walker-glory.

And for me, it was like witnessing rays of light emanating from a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. This moment was magic. I could hardly believe I was so lucky to just sit here and be with him during this most fabulous time of his life to date.

Somehow, I just didn’t remember the other kids’ first steps being like this. Maybe it’s because he’s the last (Please, Lord, he’s last, right?) but it was a moment I want to re-play over and over and over.

Child triumph heals all parenting wounds.

Baring it All (in Public)

Sarah Logan

The other day Caveman and I were in the waiting area of a kids’ gymnastics place, waiting as Princess learned to balance and tumble. Fortunately, one of our friends in the class has a younger sibling Caveman’s age, lets call her Blondie, so the two of them wreak havoc in the waiting area, rearranging chairs into spaceships and running around like maniacs, while we wait for the hour-long class to be over. If the gym employees mind, they don’t say anything.

Caveman and Blondie announced they wanted to play “Penguins and Monster.” This is a super fun game that involves them waddling like penguins and me being a monster trying to catch and eat them. The other parents trying to get work done on their laptops, coax siblings to do homework, or just enjoy an hour without their children climbing on them really love it, too. I’m chasing the squealing penguins around, encouraging them to squeal quietly, when Blondie comes up behind me and tugs on my pants.

Of course I am wearing sweatpants—but don’t worry, I’m quick. I grab the waistband and say, “Hey, don’t pull my pants down! Especially not in public! No one wants to see that!!” I’m turning around to tickle her when I look over and realize that Caveman, upon hearing our exchange, had been inspired.

He’s standing in the middle of the waiting area with his pants AND underwear down around his ankles, grinning proudly. (Read more…)

Momicillin on Facebook

This Weeks Tip

You would think at our age that we wouldn’t have to worry about these things. But, as Kate will attest, even at *ahem* 27, untimely breakouts can (and will) happen. What to do? Apply an ice cube for 30 second. Then soak a cotton ball in eye drops and press it to the “spot” for 3 minutes. The theory is that the ice and drop combination will cause blood vessels below the surface to contract—leaving you looking, well, a little less like Rudolph.