Posts tagged parenting
The Best of Times?

Years ago, in the Before Times, I overheard a co-worker telling another teacher that she was worried about Summer Break, because it was so hard to enjoy her kids. It was a June day, less than a month before school let out, and I couldn’t understand how anyone could view Summer Vacation as anything other than pure bliss. Back then, Summer meant sleeping in and staying up late, going for long runs and hikes, reading a dozen books, etc. The world was my freaking oyster. This idyllic version of Vacation was, apparently, not quite the summer my co-worker was looking forward to. My skepticism was obvious, and the other teacher – also a mom – replied tiredly, "Only another mother would understand.”

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All Joy And No Fun

. . . Although this was not the first time I had waxed sentimental at REI (I go to great lengths to avoid the yoga apparel section for fear of sobbing and clinging onto anything with a Prana label), something about this particular interaction struck a chord with me. At 5, my son has a variety of interests, and my role at this point is essentially the “fun things coordinator.” Lately it has become increasingly obvious that when it comes to having fun, I have fallen into the trap of Living Vicariously Through My Child

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Hiking with a Threenager 101

The ultimate test of how much you love doing something is whether you’re willing to do it with a three-and-a-half-year-old. Apparently, I really like shopping at Michael’s and hanging out in beer gardens. Cooking spicy food? Staying out past 7pm? Nope and Nope. (Sorry, Travis.) Now that our 40-pound threenager has solid opinions and words with which to express them, could we find a way to keep hiking? Or would our favorite pastime be kicked to the curb for the next decade, like chili powder and our social lives?

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Busted!

Last April, I literally busted out of 2 pairs of pants. I was – both times – in the process of the seemingly innocuous act of sitting down … In my butt’s defense, both pairs of pants were old and worn. But, after the second bust, I could not ignore the obvious: 2 years without a strenuous workout was taking its toll. That was 9 months ago, and nothing has changed. The question is: Do I care? 

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Delighted! Again!

Last Monday and Tuesday, schools were closed, and when we came back on Wednesday, students (and many teachers) complained of having been “bored.” I know that my toddler will one day be a teenager, but it’s almost impossible to imagine him bored, ever. There are just too many things for him to be delighted with in this still newish world, and as I started to feel cooped up inside and a little bored myself, I was even more impressed by the things that Levi is entertained by.

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The Ghost of Us Past

A vignette of me, a Seattle transplant, packing for a 10-day trip home to see my family in New York over Christmas with Travis and Levi: My massive suitcase will probably exceed the 50-pound limit. No matter. I need all the things: Running gear times 3. Yoga outfits times 5. Should I bring hiking clothes? Might we go Nordic skiing? Should I bring two novels, or just one? How many skeins of yarn? … Ultimately, the bag weighed in just under the limit, and I sent it off in the hopes that for 10 days, I would be able to commune with the spirit of Old Sarah, in the traditional garb of Lululemon and Nike, unobstructed, disenfranchised, sweaty, happy, free

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Skiing on Fumes

A few years ago, our neighbor, a father of two, asked Travis a seemingly mundane question: “How are you?” Travis, not yet a dad, and therefore unaware that his honest answer would hit a nerve, replied, “Tired.” Something immediately altered in our normally amiable neighbor, who spat back, “You don’t even know, man. You don’t even KNOW!” before disappearing into his garage. We were perplexed by it then, but now we both realize he was right: we didn’t know.

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Cross-Country Skiing With A Baby 101

I see you, sad Seattleite. If you’re reading this, you want to get outside with your wee one, but it’s January and it has been raining for however many days (you’ve stopped counting because what’s the point?), and you have officially given up all hope of seeing the sun ever again. You are no longer even slightly amused by your son’s puddle antics. You have checked flights to Arizona and Southern California (just to see) and scroll through your camera roll in the hopes of catching a glimpse of yourself in a T-shirt. Maybe you even have a tan. . . But don’t despair, soggy reader! It’s time for you to hit the ski trail!

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The Trip That Broke Us

Only 2.5 months have gone by since the Labor Day vacation that is sure to go down in Menaul Family History as the Camping Trip That Broke Us. If I start banging my head against the laptop while writing this, I’ll know I need more time to elapse before tackling this post. To maintain distance from the events of the weekend, I shall write this post in the 3rd person.

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There's Turning Back

My friend and her husband were planning to take their infant to Family Swim Time at the Y. After packing up (a phrase that does not adequately reflect the laborious process of assembling everything you could possibly need), her husband cheerfully said, “I’m so glad we’re doing this!” to which my friend immediately replied, “We’re not doing it yet. There’s a 30 percent chance it won’t happen.” 

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"What Would Sacagawea Do?"

I was 2 months pregnant and camping with Travis at Yosemite National Park. We were about to go to bed, and I was extinguishing our fire with a bucket of water. I hoisted the full bucket over the fire and, remembering our midwives’ warning against lifting heavy objects, I said, “Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this.” To which Travis, without missing a beat, replied: “What would Sacajawea do?”

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