Life with Dudes Never Looked So Pretty
Middle school is hard. Socially. Academically. Emotionally. Financially. Physically. Basically all of the ways. The body is changing, the mind is changing, the expectations and responsibilities are changing. All of that comes together in one growing-crazy-fast body, intermingles with hormones, and comes out in the form of tears. Or, if your offspring is male, probably fewer tears and more surly attitude featuring disgusted moans, exasperated
Yesterday, the family of Michael Brown, the teenager controversially killed by a police officer in Ferguson, Missouri, laid him to rest. After weeks of turmoil in the city of Ferguson, Missouri, protestors took a break at the request of the grief stricken family. Personally, I’ve been struggling with my thoughts on this tragedy, more recently, after my son stumbled across the info on an Internet
To a new blog! While you were busy at soccer games and hair appointments and grocery shopping and living your life outside of the Internet all human like, I was sitting on my couch, hunched over my computer all Gollum style (not to be confused with the happier, more care-free and awesome Gangnam style) saying adios to parenting BY dummies! That’s right amigas (amigos? Woop-woop
I love connecting with other moms. And, I love sharing stories about life in a house filled with Dudes. For whatever reason, it seems like life in a Dude house is just different. The smells are different (have you smelled man feet before?! Then you know what I mean). The sounds are different (fart symphonies and action sequence sound effects I can’t even imagine how
Probably you’ve seen these news headlines recently about parents who are set on raising gender neutral children. Children raised to not identify with their maleness or their femaleness specifically, and to instead just grow as confident humans without the entrapments and stereotypes of the outside world. Sounds weird great. You know, in theory. But like pretty much every other experimental venture, chances are that’s its
Personal hygiene is a constant point of contention in this Dude house. They are either completely filthy, about to do something that will leave them filthy, or only just recently cleaned up from spending a good portion of their day being filthy. And, as they age, they add to their filth a distinctive funk that makes me wonder if they are fully human or possibly,
Dude Mom Life is not just about battle cries and jump kicks. It’s not all roughhousing and sword play… Okay, I lie. According to them , it pretty much is just about that stuff, but I’m actively trying to make it about more. If left to their own devices these Dudes would roll out of bed sometime after 8am, pee, eat some Fruit Loops out
My Dudes are still mostly little… So presently our lives are filled with light sabers and flying jump kicks. Our floors are dangerously littered with Matchbox cars and Legos. And pretty much every room in the place smells like a strange combination of mud and sweat and tail. It is awesome. But, as #1 is quickly approaching tweendom (he reaches a decade next month), I’ve
Or, not. Recently I’ve had some “moments-I-can’t-blog-about” occur with Dude #1. I mean I could blog about them this is my blog, kid, I can do what I want but, out of respect for myself and my family and mostly the future Google-ability of my Dude, I won’t. It’s just some big kid type stuff you know. Some turning-10-in-a-month-and-whoa-it’s-showing type stuff. So I’m feeling conflicted
