Always Real, Crow Casserole

Crow Casserole

Back in the day, when I was large with child, before I actually had a child, I knew everything there was to know about the proper way to raise a child. It was in those days that I issued the edict that I would not pimp my child for Disney, that I would not do Disney’s advertising for them on the back of my child, that I would not spend $30 for pajamas with some questionable cartoon character on the front when the $10 no-character pajamas are just fine. But that was before I saw little boy eyes…

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Crow Casserole

Reduced Fat Words

I’ve grown fat in the nearly three years I’ve been a parent. Not so much from eating after my own child, which I said I would never do, but I do — but from eating my own words. I remember when I was about seven months pregnant, Antique Daddy and I were playing cards with some friends. With my child tucked safely inside my womb, I was still free to waddle up to my soapbox and spout off all the idealistic things I would never do that those other horrible, less diligent parents allow their children…

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Crow Casserole

Never Say Never

Prior to Sean’s arrival, I had some pretty lofty ideals about child-rearing. And since I had no children, I had a special license to make all kinds of proclamations about what I would and would “never” do if I had them. That license has since been revoked and I’ve had to relax a few of those ideals to accommodate my new reality. And eat a few words. Okay, a lot of words. And apologize to a few people. Okay, a lot of people. For example: Before Sean: “I will never take my kid to McDonald’s.” After…

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