mom, homeschooler, and writer — in that order.
I’ve always been a word nerd. One of my favorite lessons from when I was a kid was the subject of homonyms. Homonyms are words that sound alike, but have different meanings. Today, I got another lesson: the difference between two words that have the same sound can capture a big change in a family.
…and I knew it 20 seconds into our first date. I’m so happy we ended up together 🙂
When I was younger, one of the events I looked forward to the most was opening gifts from “Santa” on Christmas Eve. As part of the tradition, my parents always told me that naughty kids received coal in their Christmas stocking instead of a present. It was a story that that was meant to tip the scales towards good behavior for the rest of the year.
I never really took it seriously. When my cousins and I played to together, I was the one who cried; I was not the one who would make others cry. The coal thing was irrelevant, until I was around five, Â when I did get a piece of coal from Santa.
There were still presents, but that coal stood out like a mark of shame.  The most vivid part of that memory was the embarrassment of having to pull out my hand from that stocking, gripping a crumbling black lump.
Years later, when the whole Santa thing has been explained, I asked my parents what I did to make them put coal in my stocking. They said that I really didn’t do anything wrong. They just wanted to motivate me to be better.
This story turned out to be one of the funnier stories of my childhood. However, I can’t say I would pass on this tradition to my own kids.
Now that I’m older and expecting my own kid, I find myself disagreeing with a lot of things that my parents say, especially when it comes to advice on parenting and my career. Â My parents are the most wonderful parents I know, but the truth is, I want to do things my own way.
It’s a strange thing, this new dynamics. As kids we think of our parents as infallible. As teens, they become strangers then ideally, friends. As an adult, I’m realizing more and more than they are just like me, struggling to do their best. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this realization turns me into a gentler, better child (because no matter how old you are and how different you turn out, your parents are still your parents). Hopefully, my kids will return the favor and forgive me for my own parenting mistakes.
Via 500px
I’ve actually been on bed rest for a couple months now due to some precautions my doctor wants me to take. The little one is way too excited to come out into the world and meet everyone. (Patience should be lesson number one, it seems.) With work out of the question and long car rides discouraged, I’m pretty much the Loch Ness of my circle. My outings are rare and very, very brief.
Yesterday was one of those times that I made the effort to go somewhere. I was under a cloud from being cooped up for such a long time and I wanted to support my husband who was bringing a married couple to speak at his work. In a nutshell, I’m glad I did. I may have developed a couple-crush on them.
My husband and I are really the first ones in our circle of friends to get married. Although we still enjoy being with our single friends, it’s not always easy to stay connected. Â The schedules don’t match, the choice of what makes for interesting conversation changes, and priorities shift. I’m learning that these differences are part of the realities of marriage.
This is why I thought meeting that couple was so refreshing. They have been married for much longer and are parents to a young boy.  They are so respectful and affectionate with each other. It was also obvious that they prioritize their family. Those are characteristics that my husband and I are continuously working on to develop and maintain in our own marriage. I felt like I was drinking in all their stories on marriage and child-rearing. I was so obviously thrilled to meet them that it was embarrassing.
One of things the most striking things they mentioned was how they spend their anniversaries. They write down the things that they are thankful for and what they can improve on. Isn’t that a wonderful idea? It so simple but seems like it would be so effective. It would be lovely to look back at how far the marriage has journeyed 10, 15, or even 50 years later since it’s all written down. My husband and I celebrated our first year anniversary a few weeks ago and we’re planning on doing this very, very soon.
To those who are married or are in serious relationships, what’s the most practical tip you have ever received?
How wonderful is this project by Lucas Maasen? He employed his sons – a nine-year old and seven-year old twins – to paint the furniture built in his factory. They even had a contract stating that the kids will be paid a euro for each furniture they painted.
(Don’t worry, Massen complied with Dutch child labor laws. The kids only worked for three hours a week.)
Adorable randomness. I dare you not to smile.
After months of being utterly and absolutely convinced we were having a boy, the doctor told us last Saturday that it looks like we’re having a girl!
(Although when we pressed the doctor if she’s sure, she backtracked and said, “more or less”. We have to wait another month to find out for sure.)
In the meantime though, we are over the moon at the prospect of having a little lady around the house.
One thing I realized is that it is infinitely harder to think of a name for a girl than it is for a boy. There are a ton of options, but they all fall into these categories: names that we are ambivalent over, names that we don’t like, and names that we absolutely detest. We haven’t really fallen in love with that one special name that will be worthy of our one special little girl.
The online lists have been useless. They keep on coming up with suggestions like
BANANA
Are you my banamama?
CINNABUN
Am I your cinnababy?
No, no, no. We’re having a baby, not a breakfast buffet.
Is it just me or did the world suddenly take ownership of my belly when I became pregnant?
I think that everyone loves a pregnant lady. For the most part, pregnancy is an enjoyable experience, especially since it offsets my moody disposition.  But, there is a chunk in the population that feels that my blossoming belly is an invitation to:
a. Touch/rub/and in one disturbing moment kiss my stomach
b. Offer unsolicited advice about motherhood and its woes. Extra frown points  if the person giving the advice isn’t even a parent.
c. Tell graphic stories of their childbirth and pregnancy experience, if already a mother*
d. Tell graphic stories of their friends’ or family member’s childbirth and pregnancy experience, if not a mother
e. Give really ominous advice.**
d. Comment on the size of my boobs.
It is this part that is not as pleasant. In my heart of hearts, I know that these people mean well and I try to appreciate the sentiment behind it all. At the very least, I haven’t snapped at anyone yet. It’s just that I’m starting to feel like the norms of society no longer apply to me. I mean, last time I checked it is still rude to say to stare at someone’s chest and loudly exclaim that they are enormous.
So universe, please hear my plea. Try to be a bit more sensitive. If you touch us, do we not crave for personal space? If you describe the color of your private parts during labor, do we not shudder and think, “I didn’t need to know that.”?
Pregnant ladies are people too. Say it with me — pregnant ladies are people too.
*Â I had the experience of meeting a lady for the first time and she launched into a full blown account of the urinary tract infection she went through during her pregnancy. She actually described the condition and appearance of her pee. Whatever happened to “So, where do you work?”
**In the early stages of my pregnancy, I had one person come up to me and say that I will probably miscarry because of my work. Gee, thanks. A first time mom really needed to hear that.
Meet the Obliteration Room.
Artist Yayoi Kusama gave a thousand stickers to a thousand kids. Â I may just use this as a parenting reference.
Read more about it here.
Hit or Missus 