I dread the daily hair hassle. With two girls and myself, I spend precious minutes each morning fighting tangles and attempting hair styles. Just brushing my daughters’ hair feels as impossible as grooming a pair of feral cats. My morning exercise usually consists of running through my house with a hairbrush after my fleeing toddler.…
My days with my son pile up like the leaves in the park down the street, the ones that never get raked up. Days filled with playdates and uneaten bananas, too much laundry, too many dishes, books on tape I try to listen to as I play with him on the floor, and a child…
When people learn I had natural childbirth with both my children, they usually say something like: “Wow, you must be super tough.” The truth is, I feel like a huge phony anytime someone commends me for my physical fortitude.
Apparently, the genetic green thumb that has been in my family for generations skipped right out of my gene pool. None the less, I’d like to give my kids the experience of growing their own food.
Would it have helped if I tried more positive reinforcement? Should I have kept yellow pom poms in the bathroom? It would have given new meaning to ‘Go, Honey, Go!’, but I was never the rah-rah type.
