Blog Archives

“I can rescue myself!”

“I a princess!”

There are some moments where you can see a flash of the person you hope your child is becoming. It’s hard to know during those moments how much of it is brainwashing (admittedly by me), desire to please you, their own personality or good upbringing (:-)). But they sure do make you feel good inside.

K’s teachers are constantly telling me that she speaks her mind (loudly). One of her teachers calls her “fresh.” Which is probably more accurate than my preferred word of “sassy” since it communicates her tendency to defy authority from time to time.

At any rate – judge for yourself yesterday’s scenario:

K said to her preschool teacher (ticking off each of the following with successive fingers):
- “I can surrender”
- “I can protect”
- “I a princess”
- “I’m wearing a purple dress.”

“I look pretty now, right?”

Says her teacher: “What’s the fifth one? And if you’re a princess, does that mean you want a prince to come swoop you off your feet and rescue you?”

Replies K: “oh no, I can do all that myself!”

- “I can rescue things.”

My Self-Rescuing Princess

My Kid Uses Chopsticks Better Than I Do

Seriously. My father used to tell me that the true test of someone’s ability to use chopsticks was being able to pick up peanuts with them. I wonder what he would think of my not quite three year old picking up Goldfish? See below for pictures. Read the rest of this entry

The Tribulations of Parenting: K Episode 2.10

My little girl growing up

One of the things about parenting that people talk a lot about but you don’t really appreciate is how you feel when your kid tells you that someone hurt her. In this instance, I don’t mean physically – Day care/pre-school has its perils, so my kid has been pushed, bitten, kicked and had her hair pulled, but mostly it all falls under what I would call reasonable expectations. Here, I’m talking about the emotional hurt – and the realization that your kid not only mature enough to feel it, but also has grown enough to articulate it. Case in point:

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K Interlude: Episode … uh … 1.3?

Two interludes:

K: “I’m Mommy, and you’re Katherine.”

Me: “So I’m Katherine?”

K: Yes.

M: Then I must be really cute.

K: And smart!

That’s my girl. Second interlude involves our seemingly never-ending potty training battle. Read the rest of this entry

Super K Strikes Again

For the amount that I write about my kid, this blog is turning into a Mommy Blog that has no mission. For that, I’m sorry. If you’re here for my deep thoughts, well, you should realize by now that those are relatively spread out and interspersed with fluff. Sorry.

On the other hand, if you’re here to hear about my sassy kid, you’ve come to the right place. Those of you who are Facebook friends of mine will have already heard this story, so you can feel free to tune out now.

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Keeping Perspective: Flight, Fright or Fight

For you news junkies out there, you may have heard about the 180-lb tumor that was removed from a 32-year-old Vietnamese man, Nguyen Duy Hai, in Ho Chi Minh City. If you saw it, you probably had an “oh my god,” “gross,” “wow that’s incredible” or a “can you imagine?” moment. I’ve had those moments too. I’m embarrassed to admit that I’ve also had the “I’m so glad it isn’t me” reaction. I think all these reactions are perfectly normal. It’s one way that we remind ourselves that despite all our complaints, there are still many, many people who have it worse than we do in some way, shape or form.

But for me, this story was an unpleasant reminder of what could happen to my little girl. Just six short weeks ago, I talked about the struggle for calm in the face of my daughter’s neurofibromatosis (NF type 1). Because it turns out that this Vietnamese man also has NF1.

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Take Your Girliness and Shove It

Pink Hello Kitty Microwave

Why does this exist?

Most of you know my rather strong feelings about gender stereotypes and expectations. I don’t have a problem with girls being exposed to “girly” things, but I do have a problem because it seems  that everything a girl is exposed to is “girly.” Why are there entire aisles awash in pink? Why must everything be Barbie-this or Princess-that? And why do I always have to go to the boys’ section to find red, grey or black gloves or shoes that are neither pink nor have hearts or princesses all over them?

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NF? What NF?

A couple weeks ago, I talked a bit about the NF Symposium I attended a few weekends ago and how I was struck by the conflicting agendas of the program participants. That was the cerebral side of things. In this post, I’ll be talking about the emotional aspects.

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Sideshow Act: She can sing! She can read!

barkerRight this way, ladies and gentlemen! It’s the one, the only, the amazing, singing, dancing and reading K!

Sometimes I feel like a carnival barker when I post pictures and videos about my kid. I mean, how irritating must it be to everyone else besides my family? And let’s face it – nearly every parent thinks their kid rocks. It’s genetically engrained in us so we don’t, you know, eat our young or sacrifice them to the minotaur or whatever. It’s kind of like how no parent of a six-month old can accurately explain what it’s like to be the parent of a newborn. It’s only been half a year, but nature has a way of fuzzing it all out so that you won’t convince yourself or others around you NEVER TO PROCREATE AGAIN. And I say that as the mother of a kid who was really pretty easy at that age (I think. But really, given what I just said, can you trust me?) Read the rest of this entry

Imagining a World “Full of Awesome”

“Awesome” is one of my favorite words to use with K. It’s my little way of telling her that what she is doing or has just done is something to be admired. I use it frequently – to encourage her to do things “by myself, Mama!”, to try things she’s scared of (“Getting to pet Jay’s cat Bailey is awesome, isn’t it, K?”), to keep her from crying on the playground because she slid down a little too fast on the slide and scared herself (“Oh my goodness, that was awesome, K! Let’s try it again!”). I use it so much that Kwill often use it too, telling me in her ever so serious voice: “Tha’s awesome, Mumma, tha’s awesome.” Read the rest of this entry