Oh Kid! | Teeny Manolo - Part 2



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The Mess Maker

Wednesday, July 11th, 2012
By Glinda

My son recently spent some time with some relatives and slept over for a few days.

Over the course of those few days, I couldn’t help but notice how clean my kitchen was.

You see, I don’t make my son most of his meals or snacks during the day, I want him to learn how to make his own meals.  Most of the time he will just boil some pasta and have some spaghetti, or will make himself a sandwich, or oatmeal, or something of that nature.  Nine year olds are not usually known for their demand for culinary artistry.

Besides, I figure he will thank me when he is living on his own and not having to subsist solely on Cup o’Noodle.

But a fact that has always hovered in the back of my mind came to light when I realized that my kitchen counter could indeed make it through the day without being littered with bread crumbs or spilled tomato sauce or smudged butter.  Not to mention the floor immediately below the main preparation area.  Practically sparkling! Not a spilled oat in sight!

He came back today and even though I missed him, I did not miss the time I spend cleaning up after his, ah, kitchen adventures.   I mean, I have to call it an adventure, because mere cooking does not somehow propel pasta in a five foot radius from the counter.

But I suppose that is the price I have to pay if I want him to take over all of the dinner-making one day.


“Owning” Your Child’s Body

Tuesday, July 3rd, 2012
By Glinda

Growing up, it was customary in my family to kiss and hug our relatives goodbye.

I do remember being told a few times to hug a relative I didn’t feel like hugging at the time, but it was mostly due to my being upset with them for some now-forgotten (and most likely idiotic) reason.

We do instruct our son to hug and kiss his close relatives goodbye, but only those that he knows very well.

What can I say, it’s a tradition in our families.

My daughter is too young to “force” to give hugs, and she often doesn’t want to.  Because she is a capricious toddler, the offended party laughs if off, along with everyone else.

But this article on CNN.com has made me think about the whole hugging relatives thing in an entirely new way, especially for my daughter.

In making my children hug their close relatives, am I really teaching them that their body is not their own?  That their body is something for other people’s pleasure and not theirs?

I’d always considered it an issue of respect to elders and a sign of how close our family is, but maybe I am completely wrong about the whole thing.

What do you think?


Mohawk Man

Tuesday, April 17th, 2012
By Glinda

My son is going on a trip to Sacramento this weekend with his grandpa, and we told him he needed to get a haircut this week.

“I can’t get a haircut!  I want a mohawk!”

Uhhhhh, whaaaat?

As a child of the 80’s, I have absolutely nothing against a mohawk.  I actually don’t have a problem with my 9 year old sporting a Mohawk if that is what he really wants to do, which it apparently is.

But.

I’m wondering where the hell this came from.  We currently don’t know anyone with a mohawk, and I’m trying to figure out where he saw a person with a mohawk that he now wants to emulate.

I tried to discuss with him that despite the fact that it seems to be a rather carefree, rebel hairstyle, it requires quite a bit of work to keep it looking decent, including rather frequent haircuts.  I also told him that he would probably have to start using a lot of hair gel.

The mohawk is currently on hold, pending my son’s decision on how exactly how much he hates hair gel and haircuts.  Which up to this point has been quite a bit.

Self-expression is a bitch.

 


Sometimes It’s Hard Being the Adult

Wednesday, April 4th, 2012
By Glinda

Today was not a shining example of my best mothering.  In fact, it might rank amongst my top ten worsts.

Things that went through my mind today:

I now see why people run away to the circus.

Is my neighbor really trying to one-up my thyroid surgery with a self-inflicted gash to the hand while cutting pineapple? Really?

If I leave in the middle of the night, no one will see me.

Yeah, buddy, some days I wish you went to school, too.

How do you survive the day eating ONLY things made out of carbs?

Is division with remainders that complicated?

Can I join you on the floor in your temper tantrum? I bet I could scream louder than you.

But you used to LOVE pears!

I didn’t think anything could be more annoying than banging your head on the floor until you started spitting your food everywhere.

Be careful what you wish for.

Of course you allowed our daughter to touch the soil where the cats in the neighborhood have been pooping.  OF COURSE you couldn’t stop her in time.

Seriously, I KNOW I could cover my tracks well enough that nobdoy could find me.  

 

 


For the Whole World To See

Thursday, March 29th, 2012
By Glinda

For some reason, I only recently Google street-viewed my own home.  I mean, I know what my own house looks like, right? So I felt no urge to look at in on the internet.

But, lo and behold, what did my eyes see on my front lawn?

A bunch of crud that the Munchkin left out (he has a horrible habit of not picking up all of his outside toys, or maybe he was still playing with them for all I know) that makes our house look less than, ah, dignified.  Nope, that large neon yellow dump truck doesn’t stand out one bit!

Compare that to the pristine lawns of my neighbors, and it is clear that one of these things is not like the others.

Thanks, dude, thanks.


Tuesday Teeny Poll

Tuesday, March 27th, 2012
By Glinda

42% you take only a half hour to 45 minutes to get out the door, and an impressive 21% take only 15-30. 15% of you were split evenly between less than 15 and 45-60. I’m going to count myself in that last cohort due to the fact that I have a toddler. She’s a convenient excuse for almost anything.

A friend and I were recently at a party, and we briefly discussed allowing our same-aged sons to walk to a nearby park (she lives in the neighborhood).  We went back and forth for a bit, but eventually decided against it.  Then we started talking about how it seems in our memories that we had a lot more freedom way back when than kids do now.  Is that pretty much a given? Or are we just old and our memories are faulty?


Now THAT’S an Excuse

Thursday, March 22nd, 2012
By Glinda


It’s a Long, Downhill Slide From Here on Out

Tuesday, March 20th, 2012
By Glinda

At least, that’s what I hear.

My nine year old son, though I love him dearly, has become a serious pain in the boot-ay. He doesn’t listen, he enjoys a bathroom humor a bit too much and at totally inappropriate times, has started talking back more, is maddeningly lazy, and is unable to interact with his sister without making her cry.

Sigh.

I’m told it’s fairly normal nine year old boy behavior, but I am already completely ready to sell him to the circus. OK, if they just offered to take him off my hands, I’d totally consider it.

I was talking to a friend of mine whose son just turned thirteen, and when I complained about the Munchkin (who is not so Munchkin-y anymore) she just laughed the hearty laugh of someone who knows that the worst is yet to come. For both of us.

We figured I’ve got at least ten years of frustration in store for me, and offered her bar-tending services should I ever need them.

Yeah, tomorrow sounds good.









Disclaimer: Manolo the Shoeblogger is not Manolo Blahnik
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