Because lord knows I’ve got a toddler of my own and I’m well aware of how easy it is to be distracted for a second, but really?  I know this story is a teensy bit old, but I can’t help myself.

When I’m watching the Munchkinette at home, I’m way more relaxed about it than when we are out in public.  I am well aware of danger zones and things she can get into. But when we are somewhere else,  I put hawks to shame.  She doesn’t take a step without me right behind her.

So, I’m thinking that if my toddler is at someone’s place of work, where there are a million things she could get into, not to mention an open TIME-LOCKED SAFE, I would tend to be a little more watchful than normal.

I’m not trying to minimize the obvious distress caused to the toddler and her mom, but for this mother, I’m going to advocate the use of a leash.

And if this family gets money for exclusive story rights or a made-for-television movie, then I will know for sure there is no justice in this world.

When my son turned six, I discovered that he had a hearing problem.

It was nothing that needed a doctor’s intervention.  It was just that he discovered the fine art of selective listening.

He is now 8, and it hasn’t really gotten better.  In fact, I’d say it has gotten worse.

Although he never fails to hear any sentence that includes the words “candy” or “dessert.”

What I don’t understand is the thought process behind his almost supernatural ability to not hear what I’m telling him.   Does he think that I will suddenly give up?  That I will get tired of repeating myself and stop ordering him to clean his room because it is just too much trouble?  I suppose it might be worth a shot.

But then I find myself saying the same thing over and over, each time getting louder and louder.

Because we ALL know the thought process on that one, right?

When someone doesn’t understand you, you feel you must talk LOUDER and SLOWER, as if that will suddenly clear everything up.

But for an 8 year old, that still doesn’t work. 

I can’t be the only one out there with this problem, right?

So I’m thinking of investing in a tape recorder, recording my top ten oft-repeated phrases, and then selling it as a CD so that I can help every other mom out there save her vocal cords and her patience.  I’d even have a special one made just for the car.   You would never have to answer the question “Are we there yet?” again.  Let me do it for you! Just keep hitting the repeat button and I’ll be glad to say the response a hundred times if that’s what it takes!

You’re welcome, world.

That will be $13.99.

Plus tax.

We swore we weren’t going to do it with this one.

Little did we know.

When our son was born, he refused to sleep alone.  After many heartbreaking attempts to get him to do so, my husband and I finally gave up.  I’ve always leaned toward attachment parenting, and we just went with it. We had two bedrooms, and one of us at a time co-slept with our son until he was about two and a half years old.

Now, it wasn’t horrible.  The Munchkin was and is still a very sound sleeper and everyone got plenty of sleep during that phase.  Since we “weaned” him off the co-sleeping, he has had absolutely zero sleep issues. He goes to be without a fuss every night and wakes up refreshed in the morning.  No nightmares, no crawling into bed at 2AM, no sleep-walking, nothing.

But, everyone always clucks at you when you let it slip that you co-slept. And yes, usually people don’t own up to the fact simply because it’s easier just not to have to explain to people that no, you are not trying to destroy your kid.  Despite the fact that we were sincerely doing what we thought best for our family, everyone is always out to second-guess you.

When my daughter was born, it all started wonderfully.  She slept alone in her co-sleeper bassinet, (which I highly recommend, by the way) and in her swing. 

She then transitioned pretty well into the crib, although there were some rough nights here and there.  But nothing out of the ordinary.

However, between the sixth and ninth months of her life, she got quite ill from whatever her brother brought home from school, and simply refused to sleep alone.  We tried, we really did.  But she was sick three times in a three-month period, and everyone was absolutely miserable and getting little rest.  Everybody knows that much poor decision making comes from lack of sleep, and we were no different.

So one night we said, let’s just try bringing her in the bed and see what happens.

Worked like a charm.  She’s a bit of a restless sleeper, but if she wakes up she will usually go right back to sleep.  Unless of course it is teething pain, and then all bets are off. She is able to sleep by herself during naps, although she requires someone to fall asleep with her. 

So instead of starting out co-sleeping and then transitioning to the crib, we sort of did it backwards.  Goodness knows, not by design. Would I prefer that she sleep on her own in a crib? Yes.   But sometimes things just work out a certain way, and that’s what happened with us.

And really?  I’ve pretty much stopped caring about what other people think about the co-sleeping situation.  We have made the bed perfectly safe, and she is well past the age of being smothered by blankets or pillows.  She gets her rest, I get my much-needed beauty sleep, and we are all happy.  There is nothing wrong with this picture except for the people who want to get all hot and bothered about things that aren’t really their business. 

We co-slept with our son and he didn’t turn out to be some co-dependent wussy who can’t fall asleep on his own.  Quite the contrary. 

So, if you are thinking about co-sleeping, do what works best for you, and all the rest can shut up and do what’s best for them.

The shirt.

I’m cool with everything about that outfit except the shirt.  Fake hairpieces? Go for it.  Leopard-print leggings? Fine!  A jacket with dangling chains? Sometimes you can never have too many chains!

As a ten year old, I applaud her willingness to take sartorial risks. If you can’t dress any way you want when you are ten, then what good is it to be a kid? I have so far refrained from commenting on any of her outfits because, well, she’s ten years old. And at that time, she hadn’t purposefully put herself in the spotlight other than being the daughter of Will Smith and Jada Pinkett-Smith, so I didn’t feel comfortable saying anything about her, as simply being the daughter of someone famous doesn’t make you a public figure.

But now with her burgeoning music career placing her firmly in a self-chosen career path of wanting to be famous, I feel I must say something about that shirt.

I would never allow my son to wear a shirt that said “Girls Need Training” and I think it is no less demeaning when referencing boys. I just notice that it’s often just fine to say derogatory things about boys. Nobody bats an eyelash. But turn the situation around and everyone would be in an uproar.

The fact that a bajillion tween girls are going to see the video associated with this shirt saddens me.

And Jada, I’m disappointed in you. As the mother of a son as well as a daughter, I thought you would know better.

I have to start out by saying we are all about team sports here at Casa Glinda.  I played team sports for many, many years including softball, basketball and volleyball.  Later in my career I focused on volleyball, and loved it so much I wound up eventually coaching at the college level.  My husband also participated in multiple team sports, including football and wrestling.  We practically lived and breathed tenets such as “a team is only as good as its weakest player” and “it’s all about teamwork.”  We go around the house high-fiving each other every time one of us makes an impressive display of parenting skills.  OK, I’m joking on that one.  Sort of.

Which is why I don’t understand why the ”go team” DNA apparently did not get passed down to the Munchkin.

Like the good suburban parents we are, we enrolled him in team sports from the time he was in preschool.  Bitty soccer. Tee ball.  Basketball.

He hated them all, especially practices.  It’s not due to a lack of coordination or ability, he just didn’t understand what the big deal was.

He did not see the point at all in running laps.  Why did he have to run in some arbitrary circle just because someone told him to?

Why should he have to sit in the outfield when someone else got to have all the fun at first base?

This is the same child who screeched at his fellow soccer teammate that he had “messed up”and allowed the other team to score and brought the boy to tears.

I’m still apologizing for that one.

Fitting the definition of insanity, I kept trying to push him into team sports, thinking it would be good for him. 

One has to learn how to be a team player eventually, right? Right? 

Hmmm, I’m wondering if Bill Gates or Steve Jobs ever played team sports.  

What it boiled down to was that he was not  happy and thus we were not  happy since badgering my child to attend practice over his vocal protests is not the manner in which I wish to spend my afternoons.

But I do think that exposure to sports is important, if just from an exercise and discipline point of view.

So, tennis, anyone?

One of the joys of dealing wth a toddler is setting boundaries.

Except it’s hard to set boundaries when the person you are attempting to set them with has a limited understanding of English, an insatiable curiosity, and a penchant for ignoring you completely.  But in the cutest way possible, of course.

When we first moved into this house, I adored the open floorplan.  The space!

Now, I curse the open floorplan with every fiber of my being as I would be spending thousands of dollars on baby gates to keep my toddler out of places she shouldn’t be. So instead I chase after her as she makes a circuit of the rooms, hitting every spot of vulnerability with alarming accuracy.  The two kitchen drawers that can’t be latched? Check.  The fireplace? Check.  The cord of the little vacuum I keep in the kitchen? Check.  Around and around we go, always with me trying to block her before she gets there, and redirecting if she does. 

But you know what?  She knows she shouldn’t be doing what she’s doing, limited speaking ability be damned. 

Except, I can’t prove it.

Hmphf.  A Balrog might be easier to deal with…

Reddit via

A couple weeks before winter break, the Munchkin came home upset because he had gotten into trouble at school.

When pressed for details, he lied about the incident, claiming it was because he had called another child’s drawing “stupid.”

While not a fantastic thing to do, I wondered why he was so emotional about it, when the truth finally came out. Well, it came out after being badgered about it for the remainder of the day by moi, as my Spidey-senses told me all was not as it seemed.

Turns out, a fellow classmate had accused him of saying the word hell in a non-opposite-of-heaven way.

He swore up and down that he didn’t say it at all, and claimed to not even know what it meant.

I’m on the fence as to whether he did say it or not, but I’m pretty sure he knows what it means.

Did the Munchkin get punished?

Well he did, but not for the cussing part.  He got punished for not being upfront about what had happened.

Because yelling at him for cussing? Pot, meet kettle.

You see, my father, who was a very fix-it type of guy, would curse up a storm every time he worked on a project.  So if he had to fix a leaky sink, my young self would stand in the kitchen, see a waist and a pair of legs sticking out from the cabinet doors, and hear a stream of curses that would make any sailor blush. 

Did I cuss in elementary school? You betcha.  And I was a very straight-laced honor student at a Catholic school.

I was just smart enough not to cuss around anybody that would tell on me.

I truly try not to curse in front of my children, and I would say I am 99.8% successful.  But one of his best buddies is an 11 year old from a home that has a lot of salty language being thrown about, not to mention my in-laws not watching their language around him, or even my own dad on occasion.  Oh, and my own husband isn’t all that great at keeping his language perfectly clean either.

Yes, I know all about the people who say that cussing means you are ignorant and haven’t the language skills to truly express your outrage, so cursing is just a way of flaunting your lack of vocabulary.

Actually, I think the people who go around saying made-up expressions are worse.  You can go around all day and spout nonsensical expressions, but when you stub your toe against the bedpost, “fiddlesticks” just will not do.