My Dear,

I know that I don’t really talk about you much on this blog.

Not because I don’t love you, but simply because I’m not good at sharing.

Can you believe that we have known each other now for twenty one years, been married for ten, and raising kids for nine?

You are a Gemini and I am a Pisces, but we were both born in the Year of the Pig, which means that 95% of the time, we pretty much order the exact same thing at restaurants.

You are truly the best father a child could ask for, other than you don’t know anything about computers.  Or writing.

Oh, and the fact that you are a Republican and don’t believe in global warming.  I spend more time with the kids, so I’m pretty sure I’ve got the political viewpoint thing wrapped up, at least until they are much older.

But your strengths definitely outweigh your weaknesses, and I never actually thought I would be the “nice” parent.  Or at the least the “nicer” parent, as I certainly get my fair share of complaining.

However, this may just be with our son, and our daughter just might have you wrapped around her petite finger.  We’ll see if time shows you giving her money and the car keys behind my back.

Let’s just say I won’t be surprised.

So on the first anniversary of your 40th birthday, I just wanted to let you know that your three whole months of labeling me “my older wife” are at an end.

At least for the next nine months or so.

Love,

Your Adoring Wife (who is the same age as you)

That my son has gotten to view astronomical events (one that will never happen in my lifetime again, nor his, probably) that I never even got to take a tiny peek at.

It’s wrong for a mother to be jealous of their own kid, right?

The recent solar eclipse was almost totally visible from our part of the world, and my husband took my son to a local museum to view it.  Me? I had to stay home with our daughter because a) the eclipse happened too late and b) I’m apparently the only one who can feed her a decent dinner and put her to bed.  So I marveled at how dark it went as I was giving her a bath, and that’s about all I got out of it.

Today was this rather awesome event, and my dad took my son to a very exclusive location where he got to hear lectures from Harvard professors and view the eclipse through $25,000 telescopes.  Me?  I knew when it began and when it ended, but I saw nada.  Again, the whole toddler thing.  And don’t even ask about why didn’t I have eclipse glasses or something, they’ve been sold out around these parts for weeks.

So tonight I’m swanning around in some sour grape juice, attempting to remember the last time I was able to go out and do something whenever I wanted.

Which was about ten years ago.

Phooey.

But, uh, it’s all worth it?

Right?

Sad, isn’t it?

Sure my daughter likes to pretend to feed her dolls, build amazingly tall block towers, and terrorize the neighborhood in her Cozy Coupe, but no toy evokes the frenzied response of an addict quite like the Kindle.

It has been quite disconcerting to observe the ease in which she has figured out all of the electronic devices in our home.  She was doing things on my cell phone that I didn’t even know it was capable of doing.  And far too easily she learned how to slide the little arrow over to unlock the Pandora’s box that is our Kindle.

Of course there is nothing bad on it, as it is primarily for our son, but I can’t help but think I am somehow neurologically altering her by exposing her to the Kindle.  That I am betraying thousands of years of evolution just to make my life a little easier.

But it is sometimes the only thing that will keep her sitting in one place for more than five minutes.   And I have to admit, it isn’t a foolproof method either, as I found out at our year end meeting with our homeschool educational advisor.  I don’t normally take her to my son’s educational meetings, but this time I had no choice, and it turned out badly for all involved.  When the advisor turns to you and tells you that she will be praying for you and your strong-willed daughter to get through this difficult period, it definitely gives you pause.

Maybe I am the one who is addicted to the half hour or so of quiet that I get when she sits with the Kindle.

If there’s a 12 Step program for it, I’ll be the first to sign up.

But for some reason, I think I’m not the only parent who cheats a little with the ease of today’s electronics.

Well, if I’m wrong, then just go ahead and lie in the comments to make me feel better.

Awww, a full 38% of you never got to go to summer camp. Although that might be just as well, seeing as how an equal amount of you remember it as both miserable and fun.  Not exactly a rousing endorsement.  22% thought it was great, and I guess it is a good thing that no one remembers is as only miserable. 

I didn’t attend a sleep away camp, but a day camp since both of my parents worked.  The only things I really remember were playing the “telephone” game, singing stupid songs which I thought were fantastic at the time, and having two boys sort of fight over me.  Now if I could only remember why…  I was a big, tall, strapping young woman who didn’t really attract male attention until high school, seeing as how I towered over most of my peers.

And now, something completely different.

The hunky Chris Hemsworth beat out the only slightly less hunky Cristiano Ronaldo to win last week.

Now I’m bringing a professional basketball player into the ring.

VERSUS