Category Archives: Parenting

My Other City by the Bay

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I often joke that I’ve left my heart in the other city by the bay, San Francisco.  But a part of my heart has always and will always be in Boston.  I was born and spent my first decade on Cape Cod, but I also consider myself a child of Boston.

IMG_1503In the 1970’s, nothing much happened on the Cape, from Labor Day to Memorial Day – if you wanted entertainment, you had to go to the mother ship.  We’d take a Greyhound bus into the city a couple of times a year – sometimes to see shows –  or to Boston Garden to see the Bruins play, sitting in the rickety old seats and smelling that stinky odor that only old buildings with no air conditioning can produce.   I saw the Ice Capades at the Garden and came within seconds of shaking Dorothy Hamill’s hand, as she greeted fans rink side.  Christmas shopping in the city.  I’ve commuted on the T and actually raced my friend Marcie, up and down the aisles, late at night.  I have viewed the city from the top of the Prudential Building.  I’ve walked the Freedom Trail.  I’ve ridden on the Swan Boats.  I’ve eaten in Quincy Market.  I’ve felt the quake of Fenway Park, when the fans go wild. Continue reading My Other City by the Bay

IEP Anxiety

 

Anxiety is defined as:  “Distress or uneasiness of mind caused by the fear of danger or misfortune.”  Sounds about right, although a bit technical.  For me, anxiety is a rapid increase in my heartbeat, as if I’ve had a lot of espresso.  It’s a jittery, panicky feeling, which makes any type of focus impossible.  I tend to obsess over what I’m anxious about, to the point of paranoia.  Seriously.  One thing that triggers my anxiety level is when I hear, “Allie, we need to schedule an IEP meeting.”

An IEP is an Individual Education Plan for students receiving special education services.  It sounds rather innocuous, but it comes with all kinds of emotional baggage for the parents.  On its best day, it’s kind of like a State of the Union address.  The school tells you all that they’ve accomplished for your child, with goals met and mastered and a plan is drafted to raise the bar.  At its worst, momma storms out of the meeting, slamming a heavy, industrial-sized door, which reverberates so loudly, I will still hear it in my subconscious, a year later.  (It was not my finest hour.)  Continue reading IEP Anxiety

They Surprise You

 

My children are very lazy.  I blame myself.  In my desire to live in a manner different from which I lived in as a child, I want everything to look nice.  Neat.  Problems don’t exist in tidy houses.  Of course I realize this is usually the opposite, but it makes me feel in control.  As I am outnumbered, I really need to feel in control of our chaos.  I like things done right, which means my way, so I have a problem delegating my household chores to those I live with, who are shorter than me.

As my writing commitments become greater (yay!) this has become a problem.  A good problem, but a problem.   I simply have less time.  I need help.  I expect certain little people to start doing their part:  clear the table, pick up their clothes, put away their toys and make their beds.  This has been met with great resistance.   I’ve been shocked by the reactions of my four lazy, entitled little people.  Aside from the irritation I feel for their unwillingness to do what I say to help me, I fear that I’m going to be sending them out into the world lacking some very valuable skills.  So I soldier (nag) on.

I told them that they had to clean out the car, because quite frankly, the inside of the car is disgusting.  I’d like to emphasize that they and all their stuff transform our vehicle into something I really can’t let people see (or smell).  Imagine my surprise when I walked outside to check on them and saw this:

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Maybe there’s hope for them after all.  That, or they just like to play with the hose!

This Makes Me Sad

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My youngest, my baby (who’s five), fell on the stairs yesterday.  It was awful.  When I saw all the blood on him, his pjs and the toy cars he was holding (which didn’t let go of before, during or after), I screamed.  Not cool.  Rookie mistake.  I scared the bejesus out of him.  I wasn’t the only one who was scared.  Daddy actually made the trip to urgent care with me, because it did not look good.      Continue reading This Makes Me Sad