Lame

One minute I was standing there, fine, the next moment I took a step where the curb wasn’t and was in pain. The hazards of wearing a baby front carrier include being unable to see your feet and having your balance just a little not. And I found myself desperately wishing there were someone who would take care of me, decide, yes we’re going to go see a doctor or maybe even that I should lie down and put my foot up. But Raven’s got a paper due, and there was no way I was going to sit in an emergency room with a hyper four year old, loquacious six year old and miserable chicken poxed nine month old. And once again I’ve decided we’re utter fools for living in a city where we have no extended family. Okay, really there’s more...

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“A Thousand Yesterdays Ago, I Was a Baby”

Sometimes you feel invisible as the middle child. I remember Raven arguing against having three kids because it would create a middle child. It’s certainly a different dynamic from two — especially as Søren’s personality is coming into play. And I’m less worried about Xander than I might be for any other middle child. He seems able to stand up for himself or find the best aspect of any situation; when, for example, someone who is six and ever-so-worldly is making him feel small and young, he responds, “At least I’ll live longer” or, more likely “yeah, but you’re gonna die first.” And shortly after Søren was born we were informed he could be referred to as “handsome” or...

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A Pox on Thee!

Why does a diagnosis, a label make things so much easier? I finally broke down and decided that the ant bites on Søren’s legs weren’t actually ant bites, and having gotten our phone service back, Aodán into the three day old routine of the new school year, and being totally exhausted from Søren waking at 3 am uncomfortable, inconsolable and ready to wrestle for three hours, we broke down and went to the doctor’s yesterday. And I was surprised at how happy I felt to have Søren’s misery officially labelled chickenpox. I’ve been thinking about the power these simple labels have. Knowing this is chicken pox, I am suddenly much more patient with Søren — it no longer feels like I am purely a...

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The Urge to Push

A new school year, a new teacher, I want Aodán to shine!I When Aodán was an infant I wished for an child simulator, where I could input all of the parenting decisions I was going to make to test the results and optimize the final product. It didn’t take long to realize we were going to make lots of mistakes but that parenting was less about correct decisions than about the weight of being present, listening with full attention when you can, finding little ways to communicate your love and your limits to the child. But the decision making thing got a little more intense again with a challenging year of preschool and then a kindergarten class where we were asked to decide whether Aodán, as one of the oldest kids in his class, already...

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My Favorite Museum

I’ve been to the Dallas Women’s Museum four times in the last six months. Here’s why. Invariably the response is “Yes, it is nice, but I wish it weren’t necessary.” Which reflects a lot of people’s conditioning to think about justice by imagining reversals — and a museum dedicated to the accomplishments of men is so ludicrous. Kind of. Except for the ones that sort of are, only you don’t really notice it. I think that one of the reasons I love this museum so much is that it does represent such a diversity in accomplishment, belief and background, which is what I want feminism to be about, not some exclusive party line where everyone must dress, think and talk exactly the same. As a woman there are days...

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