"Mom, Mom... please don't disturb my work. I'll talk to you later."
OK, Babe. I won't disturb your work.
"Mom, Mom... do you want to know what work I'm doing?"
Yes, I'd love to know. What work are you doing?
"I'm doing my writing work. I'm working very, very hard to do very good writing work. Do you want to know why?"
I'd love to know why.
"So I can be a good writer just like you, Mama. And then... and then... if I work really hard and be a good writer like you, we can write things together. Right, Mama?"
We already do, Baby. We already do.
Pardon me while my heart bursts.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
April 30, 2009
April 25, 2009
Seven Things My Husband Does Better Than I Do
#1 Tune out. Not only can he absorb himself in the Wall Street Journal, he can read article excerpts aloud to me (and formulate thought-provoking questions to solicit my analysis) while I'm stuffing a dish towel in my mouth to keep from screaming, "Don't you hear her?!" Milk, please, Daddy. Daddy, milk, please. Can I have some milk, please? Daddy, please, can I have some milk? May I please have some milk? Milk, please. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. I want to have some milk, please. MILK! MIIIIILK! please. May I have some milk? Daddy!
#2 Build with blocks. When I see those bright pieces of possibility piled in the basket, I think, "Oh, that looks like fun!" But as soon as I pick up a block a familiar dread creeps in as I realize I don't know what the heck to do with these things. I don't know how to translate the images in my mind to anything in the physical world, and the brightly colored pieces of possibility quickly become mini- monuments to my mental paralysis. But put a couple of blocks in Daddy's hands and he starts channeling Frank Lloyd Wright! Towers and turrets, castles and cathedrals, vaulted ceilings, vaulting seals, plantations with elevators and fountains, casinos, a ferris wheel, theaters, an ampitheater!
#3 Change crib sheets. For him it's just flip, smooth, tuck, done. When I do it I end up looking like I lost a bar brawl to a pack of hormonal gorillas.
#4 Ask for help. "Honey, can you get the small Phillips head screwdriver from the tool chest? No, too small. I need a bigger one. Can you get it for me? Thanks. I need a flashlight too. Thanks. Now can you hold it right here? OK, now I need some paper towels and a small bowl of water. Honey? Can you hear me in there? Yeah, I also need that black plastic backing piece. Find it for me? Thanks. All set. Oh, hang on. Wait with me while I see if this adheres... no, no, it's coming off. Piece of junk! Here, take my keys. Can you run to the store and get the other kind... it comes in a blue can. If they don't have it there have them call their other locations. If you have to go across town you'll probably have to stop at the gas station. Thanks, Babe. You're taking the kids with you, right? I won't get anything done with them here."
#5 Anything with a power source.
#6 Sleep. When he's ready, he simply closes his eyes and sleeps. It's that easy for him. I, on the other hand, routinely lie awake for hours thinking about everything, nothing, writing To Do lists in my mind... I can't even say I accomplish anything with my insomnia, because the snippet of sleep I snatch a half hour before the alarm goes off somehow erases the preceding hours of deep thought.
#7 Lie.
To his little girl: "The library is closed. They don't sell ice cream here. Everyone in the world is going to bed right now."
To me: "You're as beautiful as the day we got married." He's very good...
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
#2 Build with blocks. When I see those bright pieces of possibility piled in the basket, I think, "Oh, that looks like fun!" But as soon as I pick up a block a familiar dread creeps in as I realize I don't know what the heck to do with these things. I don't know how to translate the images in my mind to anything in the physical world, and the brightly colored pieces of possibility quickly become mini- monuments to my mental paralysis. But put a couple of blocks in Daddy's hands and he starts channeling Frank Lloyd Wright! Towers and turrets, castles and cathedrals, vaulted ceilings, vaulting seals, plantations with elevators and fountains, casinos, a ferris wheel, theaters, an ampitheater!
#3 Change crib sheets. For him it's just flip, smooth, tuck, done. When I do it I end up looking like I lost a bar brawl to a pack of hormonal gorillas.
#4 Ask for help. "Honey, can you get the small Phillips head screwdriver from the tool chest? No, too small. I need a bigger one. Can you get it for me? Thanks. I need a flashlight too. Thanks. Now can you hold it right here? OK, now I need some paper towels and a small bowl of water. Honey? Can you hear me in there? Yeah, I also need that black plastic backing piece. Find it for me? Thanks. All set. Oh, hang on. Wait with me while I see if this adheres... no, no, it's coming off. Piece of junk! Here, take my keys. Can you run to the store and get the other kind... it comes in a blue can. If they don't have it there have them call their other locations. If you have to go across town you'll probably have to stop at the gas station. Thanks, Babe. You're taking the kids with you, right? I won't get anything done with them here."
#5 Anything with a power source.
#6 Sleep. When he's ready, he simply closes his eyes and sleeps. It's that easy for him. I, on the other hand, routinely lie awake for hours thinking about everything, nothing, writing To Do lists in my mind... I can't even say I accomplish anything with my insomnia, because the snippet of sleep I snatch a half hour before the alarm goes off somehow erases the preceding hours of deep thought.
#7 Lie.
To his little girl: "The library is closed. They don't sell ice cream here. Everyone in the world is going to bed right now."
To me: "You're as beautiful as the day we got married." He's very good...
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
April 19, 2009
The War on Colic
Usually when people talk about colic they recount the agonizing crying, screaming, and bone-numbing feeling of helplessness. And sure, all of that is ab-so-lutely humbling and psychosis-inducing.
But I think the worst thing about colic is finding a cure. Yeah, because once you find something that works, you think it will work again. Parents of colicky infants think that if they exactly replicate the conditions that quieted the kid once, it will quiet them again, so we tweak (everything!) in micro-intervals - our arm position, respiratory rate, pace and direction of motion, vocal timbre, ambient sound - in pursuit of impeccable re-creation. We re-trace our steps, we repeat our words, we eat the same food... anything we can think of to re-create the experience during which our screaming kid last surrendered to sleep.
Ha! Joke's on us!
Colic is a science fiction nightmare. It's like one of those super-creatures that constantly morphs to survive, sucking energy from every opponent and growing smarter and more powerful with every threat.
Colic is crafty. It knows when to lay dormant (in the doting public eye, when Grandparents are visiting, at the pediatrician's office), hiding masterfully behind the innocent "Who? Me?" eyes of its host, and when to roar back into action, cruelly crushing the desperate hope of those who would dare whisper "I think we did it!"
In truth, there is no cure for colic. Colic never goes away, it just moves on. It invades another host - younger, fresher... maybe yours. Maybe yours...
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
But I think the worst thing about colic is finding a cure. Yeah, because once you find something that works, you think it will work again. Parents of colicky infants think that if they exactly replicate the conditions that quieted the kid once, it will quiet them again, so we tweak (everything!) in micro-intervals - our arm position, respiratory rate, pace and direction of motion, vocal timbre, ambient sound - in pursuit of impeccable re-creation. We re-trace our steps, we repeat our words, we eat the same food... anything we can think of to re-create the experience during which our screaming kid last surrendered to sleep.
Ha! Joke's on us!
Colic is a science fiction nightmare. It's like one of those super-creatures that constantly morphs to survive, sucking energy from every opponent and growing smarter and more powerful with every threat.
Colic is crafty. It knows when to lay dormant (in the doting public eye, when Grandparents are visiting, at the pediatrician's office), hiding masterfully behind the innocent "Who? Me?" eyes of its host, and when to roar back into action, cruelly crushing the desperate hope of those who would dare whisper "I think we did it!"
In truth, there is no cure for colic. Colic never goes away, it just moves on. It invades another host - younger, fresher... maybe yours. Maybe yours...
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
Motherhood
April 09, 2009
2009 Read With Kids Challenge
The 2009 Read With Kids Challenge, sponsored by Reading Is Fundamental (RIF) and US Airways, has officially taken off!
From the RIF website: "This year, the Challenge aims to collectively log 5 million minutes spent reading with children from April 1-June 30. Reading books with your kids is still important despite the fact that kids today read everything from text messages to endless Web sites on the Internet-- sometimes it takes a good old-fashioned book to help them advance their reading skills."
Log on today to create a team or begin tracking your individual progress.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
From the RIF website: "This year, the Challenge aims to collectively log 5 million minutes spent reading with children from April 1-June 30. Reading books with your kids is still important despite the fact that kids today read everything from text messages to endless Web sites on the Internet-- sometimes it takes a good old-fashioned book to help them advance their reading skills."
Log on today to create a team or begin tracking your individual progress.
Sally Bacchetta - Freelance Writer
Freelance Writer
Parenting
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