Question: Are you the fun parent?
I am not.
Question: Are you the fun parent?
I am not.
I paused on the stairs today, peering at this photo of my sons eating hot dogs in Halloween costumes at a Trunk or Treat.
The one on the left, in the fireman costume, is now a Marine in infantry training, rucking five kilometers this week with about forty pounds on his back.
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?
Once when my kids were younger, back in that season I was covered in toddlers and preschoolers, we met my husband at Chick-fil-A (always a win) after work one night.
When they’d slayed the nuggets and the playground and it was time to go home, I asked our four kids who’d like to ride with Dad, and who wanted to ride home with me.
Note from Janel: I’m trying this new series on for size–on raising emotionally-healthy kids. We’ll start with something that would make our nation look markedly different if it defined us, our leaders: Humility.
No, this is not because I actually think I have arrived or have everything you need to know. This site is about having the conversations we need to have.
Since 2020 is on its way out, it apparently needed to swipe one more holiday. Go big or go home, right? Or just stay home. Alllll year. “Home for Christmas” may not have the same ring when you’ve been home for Easter, home for Thanksgiving, home for everything!
But in all honesty, though I sorely miss our extended family, I continue to find a lot of hidden gifts in a year with overt, sadness and fear.
I still recall with vividness my son’s drawing, proclaiming my anger issues to the world.
It was in red marker (his favorite color). Chunky hands rested on wonderfully slim, stick-figure hips. “I made you look mad, but you’re not mad in this picture,” he explained.
So speaking of awkward conversations: Asking for ideas to honor your husband might float over some girlfriends like a lead balloon.
Given male-female relations in the headlines, looking to honor your husband might arch some eyebrows. It’s far more acceptable for men to be pro-women—or women to be pro-women!—than sticking in his corner.
The English teacher of my junior year could have, at varying points in the year, landed squarely in both “Wisest Writing Mentor” and “She Needs a Pat on the Back…Off a Cliff” categories.
She scrawled Blah over my paper titles. Castigated my writing publicly. Scoffed at my conclusions.
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