Meredith Carson... Across the Pond and Back Again...

I have been once again whipped up into the vortex that is middle school.  The first time around I was a sixth grader myself.  I remember that I was completely panicked and self-conscious about how I looked but too tired to wake up early enough to ensure that I had brushed my hair and dressed myself in matching clothes each morning.  I was completely overwhelmed with the busyness of   my new schedule at Jamestown Middle School.    I was dumbstruck by the school lessons about atoms and molecules, communism and the Holocaust, and I was dazzled by the vast assortment of different kids whose approval I so desired. I spent the entirety of my sixth grade year simultaneously feeling both confused and excited; lost and found; idiotic and brilliant.   I experimented with fashion, with friends, with study habits, and with personal identities.   It was exhausting. Meredith, age 11 Rocking the Swatch watch, of course Finally, after many ye...

I sent this beautiful person off to middle school for the first time this week. She wasn't wearing the war paint when I hustled her onto the wrong bus at 7 am.  She was dressed in a pair of orange shorts and a t-shirt, an outfit she hadn't agonized over very much, by the looks of it.  She was nonchalant and relaxed, but as I watched the wrong bus carry her away into the darkness of the early morning, my insides seized up unexpectedly and I had the unnerving desire to chase after the bus screaming, "Come back, sweet girl!!"  What the hell happened? The overwhelming sense of worry that overtook me that morning was completely unexpected.  After realizing that the number on the bus that my daughter was riding was NOT the number of the bus she was supposed to be riding, I hurried home and called our public school transportation office.  The rather bored secretary confirmed that Emma would arrive at her own school after the high school kids ...

To begin I know that there are Moms who like to fix things and haul crap around in the back of a pick up truck.  I know that there are some Dads in the world who can bake adorable cupcakes and plait up the meanest french braid you've ever seen.  I also strive to teach my girls that they can basically do all of the stuff that boys traditionally do except play on the "skins" team in a "shirts vs. skins" basketball game.  If you don't know me by now, you will never, never, never know me. All of that being said, it is true that my husband and I tend to fall into pretty traditional gender roles at our house.  I stay home with the kids, live much of my life in the kitchen (often whilst barefoot), and I am the one who gathers food, clothing, and home necessities around town.  My husband works in the outside world, organizes our finances, and takes care of home maintenance and pest control.  It works well for us most of the time.  So... this post is less ab...

Children are a conundrum.  I said it.  When they are babies, they require every ounce of energy a mother can summon...and then some.  When they are babies, we mothers find ourselves wishing on occasion that we didn't have to do every bloomin' thing in the world for them.  We rejoice when our babies complete tasks independently for the first time.  Recently I have found myself becoming ridiculously impressed with my two-year-old's jumping skills.  One day she just learned to jump with both feet like a professional kangaroo, and I was dazzled. Now my two year old can do all sorts of things independently.  She can feed herself for example.  The little genius peels her own bananas and clementines.  She also pushes a small chair around my house and gains access to "up high" things that used to require mom's help to acquire.  She dresses herself in completely mismatched clothes and cowboy boots.  Most of the time this is all great....

Here is a news flash:  I love babies.  Babies are little, innocent, cuddly people.  Everything in this world is a novel discovery for a baby, and having a baby around makes mundane tasks seem new and exciting again. Something crazy has happened, however, since our third little bundle of fun came along.  Sometime while I was changing diapers and playing peekaboo, my two other little kids decided to grow into big kids. And guess what? Big kids are hilarious and fun in a different way.  Big kids make jokes that actually make sense.  If you aren't careful a big seven year old might, while at the local lake, announce to everyone who is within earshot that she is going to go and dip her "ass in the water."  The ass to which she is referring is, of course, a donkey- (a.k.a "ass") shaped animal cracker because a nice seven year old would never use that word in its naughty context, right? Big kids have their own taste in music and fashion.  A big ...

The jig is up. We were making cupcakes a few days ago, and I sent Sophie to look for the food coloring.  We were pretty sure that Dad had stashed it with the camping gear for some reason.  After sifting through the still-unpacked remains of last weekend's camping trip in our garage for several minutes, she returned with a fiercely annoyed look on her face and something hidden behind her back. "What's up?" I asked, "Did you find the food coloring?" "No!" she snarled, "But I did find MY TOOTH!"  she whipped her hand out from behind her back to reveal the paper Dixie cup which housed the tooth she lost on our camping trip. "So...what does that mean?" I asked.  Seven years old is a good a time as any to have one's illusions crushed. "It means that Dad took it, and I am FURIOUS!!" "Ok... so what does it mean that Dad took it?"  I asked again. "It means that DAD gave me the dollar." she ...

I have this daughter named Emma, and she and I have had a passionate relationship from the beginning.  I told my husband earlier this week that she is like the boyfriend that I am head over heels for, but with whom I eventually have to break up because we fight too much.  Obviously I do not plan to "break up" with my daughter, but I do need to remember that I AM THE GROWN UP and when she pushes my buttons, it probably isn't the best course of action to stomp my feet and scream, "Arrrgh!!  EMMA!!" in the middle of the grocery store. Hugging seems to help.  When I find that I have allowed myself to be dragged into the childish drama, when I realize that I am arguing fiercely with an eight year old, when I just want to vent and scream,  I remember: I am the grown up .  And I stop.  And I hug that impossible little girl for as long as it takes my blood pressure to regulate.  Then I say, "I'm sorry."  and "I love you."  Because I am the gro...

Yes, my last post was a bit dismal.  I think we can attribute that largely to the fact that George has been out of town all week.  (But he will return tonight!)  George is often the foil to my inner worrier.  When I grumble and fret, he reminds me about all of the good things about any given situation.  He reminds me about scientific and social progress.  He argues that something good can come out of everything, and he is an excellent arguer. Without George here this week to lift me out of my fretful funk, I have figuratively leaned on the little munchkin who is literally leaning on my chest right at this moment.  For my gorgeous little Lili, life really is a bowlful of cherries... or perhaps a bowlful of Cheerios in her case.  The worst thing that happens in her life is that Mama occasionally leaves the room for a few seconds while she throws herself down on the floor and has a right proper strop about that.  (Yes, my clingy infant has now...

...Here I am, right where I belong!  My little legs are getting stronger everyday. I'm so good, I have to applaud myself.  Sometimes you just have to be your own cheer leader. But wait!  Did you do something unsavory to deserve THIS look?

You only turn ONE once, which is why you should celebrate the occasion at least twice ! We had a few friends join us on Friday evening, and we celebrated Lili's big event one more time.  Why not?  She is now a serious expert on the subject of cake. It's your birthday!  Happy Birthday! It's for real though; not for play play. So I am now the mother of a one year old, a six year old and an eight year old.  The only problem is: they keep changing their ages on me.  Just when I get used to saying, "Emma is eight," she will have gone off and become nine.  It is never ending.  Sometimes I wish childhood came with a pause button, but of course it does not.  That means, Moms and Dads, you must savor all of those little precious, golden moments.  You know, the ones like this... Hold on to those babies while you can.  Tomorrow they won't be quite as little.

Today, in an attempt to be ironic, I dressed Lili in a cheerful yellow t-shirt which reads, "Make Every Day Happy."  The shirt looks especially fabulous when it is being worn by a moaning child with snot bubbling out of both nostrils.  After two unbearable nights with Lili thrashing about and yowling in our bed with us, I decided it was time to go and see our wonderful new pediatrician.  I just had one of those "Mama Feelings;"  I knew it was an ear infection before the otoscope even got involved. Dr. G. says that waiting almost eleven months to have her first round of antibiotics as a third-born child is a pretty remarkable feat.  Nevertheless I am disappointed.  I am, of course, planning to follow doctor's orders and am looking forward to having my cheerful Lili-pie back on the scene again soon!! On another note, there is absolutely no problem with her growth.  She weighs just over 20 pounds, which I believe to be f...

For years we hemmed and hawed about having another baby.  We knew it would be lots of work.  We feared it might negatively impact the dynamics of our family.  We never dreamed it would wreak such havok on my body, but that's another story.  Finally, two Christmases ago, we decided, YES, let's have another baby... someone little and sweet who coos and giggles.  What we got, although wonderful, was not what we were expecting.  Lili is a baby who does not fancy being a baby.  She has something to prove.  She crawled at seven months, stood up a week later, and appears downright annoyed that we expect her to be a "baby" for an entire year.  See the above photo??  This is a rarity.  Unless she is starving and being offered something exceptionally delicious, Lili will NOT take food off of a spoon offered by someone else.  She has also given up her high chair.  After wrestling her into it several times and receiving her telepath...

My baby turned eight this weekend...EIGHT!!  We had a really nice time celebrating on Saturday with our adopted family, the Collinses.  Liam Collins turned eleven on Sunday, so we just made a joint birthday celebration and had a fantastic time.  Emma says it was her best birthday ever even though we didn't have a big party with loads of kids and fuss... in fact, perhaps that is why it was the best birthday ever.  We were able to focus on celebrating the kids whom we love without worrying about all of the other birthday party dramas and details. I love the person that Emma is becoming.  She has always been such a sweet and sensitive character, but growing up also means that there are some painful lessons to learn and some "mean girls" to be dealt with.  On several different occasions recently, Emma has been on the verge of tears after school.  Girls there have been doing some of the same mean and nasty things that they did when I was eight....