I’ve been nagging my husband about his temper since we had kids. Come to think of it, he really didn’t lose his temper until we had kids. Hmm. He yells at them, then I get on him for yelling, and he tells me that they gave him an excuse to yell. We’ve been doing this dance for some time now, and I could never convince him that his anger had a price. Until now.
We were leaving Target, and my two-and-a-half-year-old son had followed my daughter and me into the ladies’ room. When we came out, he headed to our special two-seater cart and tried to climb onto it. Not wanting to take the cart to the car, my husband grabbed the bags out of it and said, “You grab him.” I did, he held fast to the cart and he started to cry. Wail. Scream. I held him across my body like a sash while he kicked and screamed, all the way to the parking garage. read more
Hereditary Insanity has been chosen to compete with the Top 100 Mommy Bloggers by Coupon Audit. Please take a moment to vote for the blog, that is, if you think it’s worthwhile. If I win, it would be an amazing accomplishment, especially to present to publishers when I’m trying to sell my book. I really appreciate everyone who reads this blog. It blows my mind, actually. Thanks for reading! Here’s the link. I’m number 75: Top 100 Mommy Bloggers
I hate school. I hate pencils. I hate books. I hate teachers, dirty looks. My oldest kid hasn’t even started school and I’m already at odds with the system. She should have already started kindergarten, but the school district deems her too young by a couple of months and they wouldn’t even let her test in. (See “Parenting 101: Letting go“) I learned about that last February and I’m still pissed off. read more
It was Thanksgiving Day. I had food in two ovens and I was at the counter getting started on the candied sweet potatoes when she came in.
“I’m gonna cook something for everyone,” my five-year-old announced.
“Well, you can help me with the sweet potatoes,” I said.
“No, no, no! I want to cook my OWN thing,” she said. read more
There are lots of parenting moments that I’d love to forget, like the time my daughter was 18 months old and refused to take a nap. Tired, frustrated and counting on that nap, I yelled, yanked the pacifier out of her mouth and slammed her bedroom door. “You are the adult,” a friend said when I confessed. Well, I wasn’t that day. read more
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I thought we were over this. Back when my daughter was one or two years old, she was painfully shy. Faced with new situations, she’d cling to me, not letting go. Now she’s confident, outgoing and adapts well to new situations. Or so I thought.
I guess I should have had an inkling that the “slow-to-warm-up” behavior was back when I dropped her off at sports camp this summer. Even after getting dropped off at day camp for two months, when we changed to sports camp for a week, she clung to my leg. Every day, one of the coaches would have to pull her into the game. But every day, when I picked her up, she’d say camp was “Great!” read more