I have a gargoyle fixation.
I came to this realization the other day when I was combing through the photos I took during our recent travels to England and France. It turns out I’ve amassed an eclectic collection of gargoyle portraits . I think the old art history major in me – the one who was obsessed with medieval art and architecture – is feeling nostalgic.
I am creating a monster, methinks. Actually, I’ve already created a monster. I have successfully managed – for the 252nd time this year – to turn Chloe into a stressed-out teenager. The reason for this particular episode of stress: her indecision about participating in a team sport this fall and my insistence that she make a decision already, for crying out loud!
Continue reading To Sport or Not to Sport: A Teenager’s Lament
I know Chloe and Sophie love me. Yet my girls are no different from the millions of other kids around the world who treat their parents like chopped liver.
I’m Mom. My devotion to my daughters’ well-being sometimes feels all-consuming. I’m laser-focused on their happiness (except when I’m not). In case the girls ever harbor any doubts about my love for them, the following list should allay their concerns about where my loyalty lies.
Continue reading Sitting on Sand & Other Things I Do For Love
We have a small immediate family. Chloe and Sophie don’t have any first cousins in the United States and their only living grandparent is my mom. My brother resides in Texas and my husband’s siblings and their kids live in France. We see my brother twice a year at most and we’re lucky if we see our French family every two or three years. Despite having my mom nearby and remedying some of that familial isolation by maintaining close ties to a couple of aunts and uncles and their children, it feels lonely sometimes.
Continue reading Cousins Forging Ties, Language Barrier Be Damned
Once upon a time, I was obsessive about music. So were my friends. We stood in line for hours, often through the night (oh, how times were different), at our local record shop in order to snag concert tickets. We were eclectic in our tastes and as long as the artists met our discerning standards for what constituted “cool,” we managed to find a way to see them perform live. Bruce Springsteen, U2, Rolling Stones, The Cure, Tears for Fears, Depeche Mode, Billy Idol, Billy Joel, Elvis Costello, Tracy Chapman, Steve Winwood, The Police, Suzanne Vega, to name but a few. Music defined our teenage years.
Continue reading On Concerts, My Teenage Daughter & My Teenage Self
The ‘S’ word in our house is not ‘shit.’ Nope. We curse so frequently (yet another reason why we’ll never win parenting of the year awards) that the girls are completely immune to all the expletives that regularly spew out of our mouths like torrents of Vesuvius lava onto Pompeii.
The ‘S’ word that causes groans, glares of disdain and sometimes tears is ‘sports.’ Dr. Seuss may not like green eggs and ham, but we do not like sports. Our kids do not have the benefit of role models when it comes to physical activity. My husband and I occasionally and reluctantly exercise to help minimize our chances of premature death and make us feel less guilty about our addiction to chocolate, but we don’t exert ourselves with anything resembling enthusiasm.
Continue reading The ‘S’ Word in Our House is Not a 4-Letter Word
Scene: Miguel’s Baja Grill, a cheerfully decorated and deliciously authentic Mexican restaurant on Moab’s main drag.
Chloe is intrigued by the habanero pepper on her plate. She examines it closely. She thinks it’s cute. The server warns her that it’s not like a regular pepper. It’s on the plate as a garnish. It’s super spicy, he says, practically challenging her to take a bite. According to Habanero Madness (don’t you just love how the Internet puts every arcane fact at your fingertips), it’s one of the hottest chili peppers in the world. The jalapeño is a wimp by comparison.
Continue reading The Day Chloe Ate a Habanero Pepper, Won $10 and Lived to Tell the Tale
As we prepare to leave for our next adventure to the Utah national parks (with a detour to the Grand Canyon-North Rim), I’ve had an epiphany. I now know why I am always so excited to arrive at our destination. Our arrival signifies that we have survived the frenzy of vacation preparation which, in our house, goes something like this:
(1) My husband and I yell at the kids to start packing their suitcases. We then yell at each other for yelling at the kids. This vicious cycle continues for at least 24-48 hours and we all lose our voices. And yet Chloe still manages to forget a few things. And then she blames us. Because we yelled too much and she couldn’t concentrate on her packing.
Continue reading I Survived Vacation Preparation and So Can You
My daughters are growing up. In fits and starts, perhaps. But mostly starts. I find that their recent forward momentum is simultaneously exciting and bittersweet. I haven’t sorted out where I stand in their evolution from child to tween and from tween to teen, but I’m not always as happy about it as I think I should be. Aren’t good parents always supposed rejoice in their children’s self-actualization and maturation? Am I being selfish in wanting to arrest their development for a few years? To stop time in order to collect as many hugs and as much laughter as I can before they no longer want to hug us and laugh with us?
How do you make time? I thought I’d be making a lot of time after I quit my job last year. Hell, I’d be freeing up at least 60 hours a week to do lots of things. Making time to raise my kids, making time to train a puppy, making time to whip myself into shape, making time to take on some consulting gigs, making time to write…
