I was chatting on the phone with my oldest this week about purity culture–which deserves a post on its own. (I have feelings. Big feelings.)
I expressed to him how tough it is as parents, when some of the less-healthy methods of purity culture are subtracted from parenting –I’m looking at you, shame-parenting–to find something as powerful to direct our kids toward good and keep them from what’s truly bad.
This morning my teenagers are peeling themselves out of bed for that oh-so-exciting first school day after Spring Break. And for all us types with less liturgy in our lives, it might actually be easy to let Holy Week slide into that sludgy pile of Great Things I Really Meant to Focus On.
So I’m tossing both of us a low ball here.
Valentine’s Day for kids: I 100% get the dilemma.
How can you make it special, make them feel loved–when you’re just trying to get kids to eat mashed potatoes with a fork, or get their shoes on the right feet?
Today, my oldest is headed for continued training with the Marines; the 1987 Nissan Z he’s been flipping–the one the still needs the muffler?–sits resignedly outside. My youngest, a delight and a straight-up handful, is with extended family. And thanks to this past year’s new puppy, I’m up early.
(This morning’s tea choice: Stash’s Licorice Spice. But since we’re talking New Year’s, my favorite of 2022 has definitely been Tazo’s Glazed Lemon Loaf.)
So–a lot of women I know are in that window of life where one’s body starts needing repair from growing, then expelling a human.
If you’re not there? Hey, super-fun stuff.
Random avatars of sugar and carbohydrates currently sprawl across my table, and I recently did the Sam’s Club pickup with holiday snacks to feed four teenagers.
Which is to say, never, ever enough. And I need price-club-sized tubs of things like salsa and cheese dip.
I’ve been noodling on ideas for kids on holiday break for years, people. But picky teenagers really up the ante, y’know?
He must have been two when it happened: back when his cheeks still looked like he was storing up nuts for winter. (Now, at 16, he just eats like he’s storing up for winter.)
The store’s fluorescent lights buzzed above, and the air conditioning was running full-blast there in the South.
Y’know what’s not a good sign? When there’s water dripping from the light fixture in your downstairs bathroom…when someone’s taking a shower upstairs, in the bathroom right above it.
Oy, vey.
Last week, I brought happy-hour Sonic drinks to my friend’s empty sixth-grade classroom. She’d decked it out as only excited teachers can, with pillowed reading corners complete with fairy lights, innovative seating, and wave bottles she’d made herself, with glitter inside.
We chatted, and I laughed about her curiously-labeled drawer of Bummer Pencils. A bummer pencil, she explained, is one she’s picked up off the floor or from a desk, maybe half-chewed or with no eraser. She saves those–I’m assuming she disinfects them?–for the time when a sixth-grader raises their hand with the news they have no pencil.
A few months ago around the dinner table, the topic of conversation landed on what Disney character best described each of us.
My husband was Mufasa from the Lion King; my oldest has always born a resemblance to Cars’ Lightning McQueen, while my second son makes us laugh like Tow Mater (and happens to be going through a Duck Dynasty phase? I digress.) I may have had some references to Mary Poppins, or Ms. Potts from Beauty and the Beast. (Sigh.) The jury’s still out on my daughter (maybe Belle, maybe Lilo).
But my youngest son is a whole lot like Dash from The Incredibles–often seen merely in a blur. Friends have likened him to a cartoon character before, so this isn’t new. He’s also my two-sports-at-a-time kid nearly every season.
![Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language](https://www.janelbreitenstein.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/love-languages-text-1.jpg "Now You're Speaking My [Love] Language")
© 2024 THE AWKWARD MOM
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
