This week has just been the worst. One day (if you decide to have children), you will drop your kid off at daycare or school for the first time and you will discover what real solid pain feels like.
Today was your fourth day. The first two days I let you go just for a few hours to get used to it. Yesterday, I left you for ten hours. TEN. For ten hours I left you with total strangers. A little boy pushed you down and scratched your beautiful face and stole your toy. Your teacher handed me a piece of paper explaining your injuries. She said you did nothing. You just cried. I purposely did not ask which little tot caused harm to my perfect child because I knew that you might one day become friends with him, and that one day you might want him to come over and play, and you might even grow up to be best friends-and I would hate his little toddler guts for the rest of my life. Continue reading
Last weekend, we finally finished our play. Wow. What a learning experience. It was one of the most fulfilling moments of my life. All the rehearsals, set building, costume searching, and time away from home were definitely worth it. The audience laughed at all the right moments, the crew moved the sets correctly, and the sound and lighting guy timed everything perfectly.
Dear Darling Little Munchkin Nugget,
I’ve been writing these blogs for over a year now and hoping that one day, you’ll read them. I figure you won’t care about them much at all until you either have a family, or I’m gone. I realized today that I’ve yet to really acknowledge my reason for writing. It’s you. I don’t want to forget these moments with you. I’ve already forgotten about thirty percent of my high school class, my friend’s house phone numbers, and how much it cost to fill my gas tank up in 2002. I don’t want to forget the person you are right now. At two years old, we have a very different relationship than we might when you are thirty, so I want to remember each relationship perfectly. Continue reading
A few weeks ago, she called me. “Is your dad okay?!” she asked in her WHAT THE HELL voice. I was confused. “Yes. I think so. I haven’t talked to him today, but I think he’s okay. I don’t understand.” Explaining further, Mom had been asked by several people how Dad is “dealing” with her upcoming nuptials. A few others had asked if she was inviting her ex-husband to the wedding. “That’s funny, Mom! I’ve been asked, too.”
I had. People I really don’t even know that well had asked me in sympathetic voices, “How’s your Dad doing with your mom getting remarried?” First of all, if he were miserable, I definitely wouldn’t tell you that, but the thing is-he isn’t. Secondly, the conversation was never started with “Congratulations! I’m glad your mom is happy.” I always awkwardly explain that Dad is quite happy. He’s happy with his life, and he’s happy for my mom. If you’re reading this and thinking “Oh, God. I was the one she’s talking about.” you are one of many, and I’m not mad at you. I just thought maybe you’d like to read the way your words sound from our perspective in case you find yourself in a similar situation in the future. Continue reading
Guess what, guys?! I’m THIIIIRRRTTTTYYYY! Holy cow. That’s insane. It’s not old, but I’ve been in my twenties for so long….about ten years now. It’s weird, you know? I’m not old enough to know if birthdays will really affect me the way they do some people, but I really don’t think they will. Working with the elderly, I’ve learned that getting old really isn’t about the number, it’s about your quality of life. I’ve seen a very old fifty year old and a very young eighty year old. All that being said, this week, I bought a bag of lemons to drink lemon water every day. On my birthday wish list are: Running shoes, Fitbit, and skin care products, so obviously somewhere in my mind I’m fighting the aging process. I just hope I’m a young older person for as long as possible. While thirty isn’t old, it has certainly been long enough to learn a few life lessons. Through the years, I’ve grown a bit wiser. I’ve learned a lot, and have a lot left to learn, but here are thirty things I’ve learned in each year of my three decades: Continue reading