Archive for the ‘Boys will be boys’ Category

Have you ever noticed what’s missing from the faces of runners you see along roadsides throughout the world?

Joy.

Running, it seems, is hard work. I know I don’t do it unless there’s a chance someone might pass me a ball. My husband, on the other hand, is currently training for his eighth marathon, and never, ever does he look like our son, Chris, looks on the soccer field after his team has scored a goal. Never, ever the joy. (more…)

I wrote this a few years ago for GoodHousekeeping.com, and thought I’d share it now that my boys are experienced hand shakers:

I wish I had a milestone sticker book for my tweenage sons tonight. You know, like the one you used to keep to mark all of Baby’s achievements worth noting, such as first smile, first tooth and first step. Because if I had a tween milestone book, I’d record something that few parents probably even note at all: the first unprompted, totally instinctive handshake. And it’s making me even prouder than all those silly stickers in both of my kids’ baby books combined.

It all seems so ridiculous now that I think about it. Why did I take the time to register in my kids’ baby books what was simply inevitable? First tooth? Well, of course they’re going to get a first tooth – and 19 more after that. First laugh, first solid foods, first doctor’s visit? Check. Check. Check. Even their first giggly bath with suds on their heads was virtually undeniable. (C’mon. We all have that photo.)

But only now do I realize that all that was the easy stuff, the things that happen regardless of what we do as parents, as long as we buy the bath bubbles. The uncertain, yet substantial milestones come later and in such a subtle way, you might miss them altogether, when really, you should celebrate them.

Today, I took the boys to our vacationing neighbors’ house to feed the fish and the cat. When we arrived, my neighbor’s father was in the kitchen, watering the plants.

Instead of scampering down to the basement to play with the cat, my sons stood behind me and watched me greet the man. Then – to my amazement – they each reached out their right arms and shook his hand, as though they were grown-ups at a dinner party, rather than boys who had just spent the afternoon chasing each other around the front yard with sticks.

And yet, I had not muttered, “Ahem,” while making a handshaking gesture. I didn’t even implore them to “Say ‘hi,’ boys.” I just stood there, slack-jawed, wondering when my giggly bath-time babies had turned into fine young men.

In that milestone of a moment, years of impromptu manners lessons finally paid off. The “Say bless you” when someone sneezed. The “Open the door for the nice lady” commands. The “Don’t push your brother into the mini-van” sighs. All that steadfast, relentless parenting came down one moment – one milestone that will carry them well into adulthood. Certainly, farther than their first teeth did.

When my husband got home from work, I told him the good news: Our sons had made their very first unsolicited handshakes, and with eye contact, even. And, just as the nights I told him about our sons’ first steps, he grinned with pride. This time, though, we both took a little of the credit. You know, before the boys started running around with sticks again.

Share, share: What do your kids do that surprises you?

1. The Super Plus setting on the washer machine.
2. Putting vacuum bags on the shopping list.
3. The shopping list.
4. Remembering if you yelled “Knock it off!” or “Cut it out!” last.
5. “River Monsters.”
6. Shoving another bowl into the dishwasher before you cram it shut.
7. Wondering if that sound is your well being emptied by a hose that filled up the bucket oh, about 15 minutes ago.
8. Wondering if that sound is your wallet being emptied after calling the well maintenance company people, who said something about “refracturing” and “redigging,” both which sound very painful.
9. Following the trail of sugary green liquid from the freezer to the bathroom to the… Oh. God. No. Couch.
10. Can I say “River Monsters” twice? No, okay, “Mythbusters” re-runs from 2005.

Just the check, please.

Back when I was a full-time at-home mom, people would sometimes ask, “What do you do all day?” It was meant to be either innocently inquisitive or incredibly insulting, as though staying home with two children under three was some sort of vacation from “real jobs” involving unsticking the copier and raiding the leftover danishes in the conference room. 

My answer was always the same: “I undo everything my kids have done.”

You know, putting away the 143 Matchbox cars snaked across the kitchen floor for a game called “Thanksgiving Traffic Jam.” Wiping peanut butter off the cat’s tail. Fishing the remote out of the toilet. Retrieving my bookmarks from behind the heaters. (more…)

Here I am with Megan Gaiser of HERInteractive. Can you tell I have an entrepreneur's crush on her?

I’d committed the cardinal sin of forgetting to say “soccer” before “balls” while coaching practice. You should never, ever shout, “I need balls!” at a bunch of fifth grade boys. After the giggling subsided I announced, “Balls said the Queen, if I had ‘em I’d be King,” (which, for the record, I’d learned from my mother).

One kid looked up at me, confused, and asked, “Wait. Which is better? King or Queen?” Thereby supporting my theory that today’s generation of boys aren’t as likely to think that female things are lesser things. At least, as long as they aren’t Barbie pink.

So yesterday morning, I told my 13-year-old son, Nicholas, about the lunch I was going to have with Megan Gaiser, CEO of HER Interactive, which produces the Nancy Drew video game series.

“It’s the only company making video games specifically for 10 – 15-year-old girls,” I said. “Maybe you’d like to try out a Nancy Drew game?”

His face scrunched and he looked at me as if I’d just suggested he eat kitty litter for breakfast. “No!” he protested.

“It’s not all lip gloss and clothes,” I said. “It’s not Hannah Montana. It’s a mystery game, that’s all.” (more…)

Amy coaching the team.

She made it half-way through the speech before she started to cry. I mean, how do you say goodbye to 16 boys you love very much without saying you love them very much. Because you can’t, you know, say that. Not when you’re a soccer coach. You’re supposed to be tough, doling out the laps as punishment for the kids who are goofing off, sending in substitutes for kids who aren’t playing their best and carrying them off when they get injured. (more…)

All moms multi-task, right?

When my husband is on the phone, that’s it: He is just on the phone. He is not emptying the dishwasher. He is not cooking dinner. He is not answering e-mails while simultaneously shouting out the back window, “Don’t play soccer in the mud in your brand new sneakers!” It’s just him and his phone, and it looks so peaceful. Essentially useless, but peaceful. I want me some of that.

I am forever doing several things at once while not concentrating on any one of them for very long. And Twitter and Facebook only feed my addiction to multi-tasking because when my attention span runs out shortly after writing the verb or getting out the mop or — Oooh! There’s a sale at Lands End today. (more…)

Here’s an old favorite from my blog at Good Housekeeping.com. The part of the 12-year-old was played by my now 13-year-old, who still loves to listen to the radio and share funny things on TV and in books with me.

We were sitting in the car, in the garage, again. Just the two of us, listening to the end of yet another National Public Radio segment. My 12-year-old, Nicholas, and I didn’t want to miss the On the Media® show on whether Google is making us stupid. But the rest of our family obviously didn’t feel the same way.

Not too far back in the day, I wrote a blog for Good Housekeeping.com about parenting tweens. Here’s one of the best-loved entries that made my sister-in-law laugh out loud until she nearly got in trouble at work. Enjoy:

Look, I managed to get the drawings of the attack monkeys and the soccer moms in bullet-proof dresses off the chalkboard before we left. I think… Isn’t that enough? No. No, it’s not. If it was enough, the principal wouldn’t be sending out a letter to some 500 families today. And I wouldn’t feel like hiding. (more…)