Always Real

Scheduling And Other Hot Buttons

Everyday Mommy tagged me with the question about putting babies on schedules. There are bookstores full of books on this issue written by people brighter than me, smart and learned people with letters after their names, so I don’t think I really have much to offer other than to tell you what worked for us here at the House of Antique. The issue of scheduling, along with breastfeeding, working moms, home schooling and co-sleeping (among others) is one where the discussion tends to divide women rather than bring them together. I’d rather tell you stories about…

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Always Real, Antique Embarrassment

Another reason to cancel cable TV

The other night after we got Sean to bed, I gained control of the remote control in a hostile takeover maneuver. Antique Daddy had inadvertently set it down within my reach and glanced away. So I propped myself up in bed like the domestic despot that I am and in a demonstration of my she-power, I autocratically went directly to HGTV where we watched paint dry until his eyes glazed over. And then I turned to the food channel where we watched chopping and dicing and more chopping until he was nearly comatose. Then, ignoring his…

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Always Real, Makes Me Sigh

Promises

I don’t watch the Oscars or keep up with celebrities. I just don’t really care. But the news story today of Dana Reeves dying of lung cancer has left me feeling like I swallowed a canatloupe in one gulp. I can only think of her two young kids left behind, without a mom or a dad. Everytime I’ve looked at my boy today I have wanted to scoop him up and promise him that his mommy and daddy will never leave him — a promise that Dana has reminded me is not mine to make.

Always Real, Makes Me Sigh, Thank You Notes

Polar Bears and Bullies

I came across a news story recently about a woman who attacked a polar bear that was threatening her child. A couple of years ago, this would have seemed completely insane. Now, attacking a polar bear to save my child seems completely reasonable. In fact, going after a pint-sized obnoxious bully at McDonalds seems reasonable. After two solid days of rain last week, I decided that Sean and I needed to get out of the house for a few hours to improve my attitude. In an act of desperation and in violation of my own principles,…

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Always Real, Sometimes Sweet

A Bucket of Tears for an Ocean of Joy

Heaven goes by grace. If it went by merit you would stay out and your dog would go in. ~ Mark Twain Long before I had a child, someone who knows me very well and knows how much I loved my dog, once posed this question: If your dog and your child were both drowning, who would you save? Without answering that question, let me just say that Sean is really coming along with those swimming lessons. I come from a long line of dog lovers. Most people I know who have dogs are crazy about…

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Always Real, Thank You Notes

Happy New Year!

I don’t have a list of New Year’s resolutions or goals for the coming year. Because I think I’ve got it all together? No. Far from it. I just don’t see the point of making a list that doesn’t have groceries on it. 2006 will bring what it will bring, list or no list. I do hope that 2006 is a tsunami-free year. I hope there will be fewer hurricanes, or at least kinder, gentler hurricanes than in 2005. I hope we get some rain here in my neck of the woods. Soon. I hope 2006…

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Always Real, Sometimes Tart

Lint as a metaphor for my life…

There is a piece of lint on the rug by the front door. It is taunting me. It has been there for, well, let’s just say several days. I pass by this piece of lint, oh, about 20 times a day. And every time I pass, I look down and see it, just sitting there. But not just sitting there quietly and unobtrusively like all the other unexplained bits of life on the floor. This piece of lint is white and screams “Look! At! Me! Pick me up! I won’t be ignored!” You would think that…

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Always Real

How I Became an Antique Mommy

I once saw a cross-stitched pillow in a craft booth kind of store that read “Grandma’s Are Just Antique Mommys”. I am not a grandma. I am a 47-year-old mother of a 3-year-old.  I am an antique mommy. Some of my friends who are also not 25 and have toddlers are bothered by my use of the word “antique”. I don’t find “older mother” to be any more flattering. How about “senior” or “mature” mother? Maybe youth challenged? I am what I am and I am not a young mother. I went through my 20s and…

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