Recently in Parenthood Category

Bullettes

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Randomly.

- Sometimes its worth re-reading what I wrote about trademarks a couple of years ago. Please, when you are setting out to title your new website, make sure that you aren't causing confusion with other mamas' ways of earning money for their little ones. Golden rule! It may seem like it isn't a big thing but it can be, which is why in this age of personal branding (gag, right?) you should proceed with caution. 

- I'm still playing catch-up from last weekend. My Mother's Day redux is this Saturday, lunch after visiting my friend's bakery and contributing to a drive to collect supplies for men and women serving overseas. No one should ever have to go without wet wipes or nice deodorant while serving in the desert and eating MREs for months on end. 

- Liam is dealing with a difficult kid in one of his homeschool classes. Sigh. The kid told Liam that he was going to "beat him" over something. Liam had rolled his eyes in response; since Liam's had boxing lessons (his grandpa is a corner man in the local boxing scene here and helps train fighters), I told him that I would have responded with: "I'm here now. What are you waiting for?" Harsh? Liam has such a sweet heart. He almost fell over when I told him that not everyone in the world will like him. The best, most relatable example I could think to give him of this was me. 

"I don't care if he likes me. It doesn't change what I think of him," Liam concluded. I love how he knows who he is and won't allow outside perception to change that. More on this later. 

- I'm working to restore comments on this website. I shut them down last year when things got crazy but I've met more and more people over the past year who are truly open-minded (where have you been?! I'm so glad to see you!) and something else has been restored. Technically, it's not as easy as a click of a button with MT but I'm working on it. 

- I'm working on something that may be using more words than I can spread across the webernetz in the next couple of weeks but I will be in and out with things. 
My latest for Momversation concerns being the mother of boys and the point at which your sons stop going with you into the ladies' bathroom and start going into the men's room. On their own. It's a scary prospect when you think of stories like this one. I'm not as concerned about Liam or Ewan forgetting to wash their hands (yes, ew, gross) as I am about them using a restroom alone and being in the same proximity as a child predator. 

By the way, for those who are considering using this as an anti-man thing in a fiery little email to me later, as a mother you AUTOMATICALLY look at every stranger as a possible predator. It's a driving instinct to protect your child; in the women's room with me there is no chance that they could be prey. In a men's room, alone, they certainly could be and it's happened to children before. 

Every now and then Liam will use the men's room solo (when we're not with Chris) but I'm always right outside the door. I continue to take them into the women's restroom but Liam is beginning to reject that altogether. I don't do "family restrooms" because once at the Y we tried the family restroom and it was all BOOBS AND BUTTS! BOOBS AND BUTTS! everywhere and just OMG no. It's a sweet gesture from whomever invented the idea but it doesn't work for tightly-wound people like myself. 

Anyway, here is our discussion on it. Am I being paranoid? Do I just hate men? What do you do with your boys? And if you're a dad and you have a daughter, GEEZ, you're in a worse position - how do you deal? For now you can comment on the Momversation site; I'll be opening up comments again when I return. 



Nine.

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Sunday was Liam's 9th birthday. Nine. Almost a decade. In ten years he'll be nineteen. The downside of having children at a relatively young age is that even if you are younger that most of their friends' parents, it doesn't matter. It's almost unfair.

His birthday fell on a very discomforting day, with the passage of an unpopular bill that will do some unflattering things to small businesses like Chris's, a silly bill that ties health insurance to employment instead of empowering the people and giving it as a tax credit to the people so that they can get the best price for themselves on an open, competitive market. I mean hail, how much do you think toilet paper would cost (to say nothing of the quality) if there was only Government Brand X toilet paper as opposed to having Charmin, Angel Soft, and whatever else compete for the best quality and lowest price?

It's a ridiculous analogy and you get it and I don't mean to blow politics up your butt, but if you want more you can go here.

Anyway.

More importantly, my baby. He opens doors for ladies regularly and is big enough to do it. He opens my car door for me. I want a thank you note from his future wife because whoever she is, YOU SO OWE ME. Liam is an unbelievable gentleman.

We went into the Sprint store the other day to have battery pads put into my Pre. While there, one of the employees recognized us from our previous visit only a month ago to pick up car chargers and recounted for us a story about what Liam did the last time we were there:

The last time we were there, there also was another customer, a man in uniform, a soldier, fresh off a tour in Afghanistan, along with his mother. He was there upgrading his service. Liam, without any prompting from anyone, walked over to him, saluted him, and thanked him for his service. The man's mother began to cry and thanked him. The soldier saluted back and Liam wandered back to where Chris and I were, standing at the service counter talking to the Sprint reps, totally oblivious to what just happened. Liam didn't tell us but every single employee and all the other customers in that store saw him do it.

We heard about it during the last visit. I cannot tell you how it swells my heart with love and pride for a boy to do something like that, and not think it so out of the ordinary that he has to tell his parents. It's a blessing to hear about your child's good behavior and manners from someone else. You know that what you're doing is sticking and that they're of strong enough character to do it without you being around or without accolades .

That's his character. I don't know what I did right (isn't parenthood such trial and error?) but that gives me both a bit more confidence in my ability as a mother and a lot of thankfulness for such a soft-hearted soul that is my son.

Happy birthday Liam.

Makeshift Gloves

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Because I am the world's best mother, I have misplaced the boys' snow gloves. Mother Nature dumped about five inches on us last night and the boys, riddled with cabin fever, were desperate to go out. So I suited them up in the vein of The Christmas Story, each of them, Ewan especially, resembling Ralphie.

I made do with things around the house to create the best water-proof gloves for them: Glad Press and Seal, Ziploc bags, a lonely gardening glove and one of Chris's lined leather gloves. We have a habit of losing gloves at Team Loesch.

By the time I got Ewan's hands all wrapped up it his hands looked like feet, heels and all, and he was crying.

Foot hand! (Makeshift gloves)

"I'm positive that Mythbusters did a show on this," chirped Liam. It's his favorite show.

"I have foot hands," Ewan sniffled.

"But I can't grab anytang."

"I can't GRAB ANYTANG!" Ewan cried.

"Hey Mom!" Liam laughed, "is this a craft? Like that time you tried to paint?"

"Do you want to go outside or not?"

Silence. Except for Ewan sniffling over his clubbed-foot-hands.

"Mom," says Liam, "What would Mythbusters do?"

Finally realizing that what I was doing wasn't working, I lightened his load and used only the press-and-seal and two socks.

And then let them loose ...


Snow!!
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Snow!
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Mom's makeshift gloves SUCK.
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Still

Pudge:

Pudge. The rest of him is in there somewhere.

The rest of him is in there somewhere. Mean little brothers:

Mean little brothers
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More snow!!!

Oooh! Snowball!

Ooh! Snowball!

Poor Pudge's feet-hands make it hard for him to pick it up.

... but I can't pick it up. Poor Pudge.

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