I recently did a quick scan of the book, “Chicken Soup for the Mother’s Soul”: 101 Stories to Open the Hearts and Rekindle the Spirits of Mothers and all I have to say is, they don’t have a clue about what it’s like to be the mother of a teenage daughter (which makes sense, considering […]
Remember that politically correct name someone came up with for “housewife” several years ago, so a stay-at-home mom would have something sophisticated to put on a resume? “Domestic Engineer”.
Hah, hah, just like “Sanitation Engineer” for a garbage collector or “Entertainment Specialist” for a stripper. I didn’t give the words much more thought…until recently. As I write for this blog, I realize that I’m always looking at situations and trying to “invent” a better way to do things, especially at home. A real domestic engineer, I guess… or behavior engineer.
One of the “inventions” I’ve been working on for a long …
I went naked over 10 years ago. Naked hands, that is. No more soaking in pink solution and breathing in air that comes with a warning label. No more long, polished fingernails in colors like Chick Flick Cherry or Blushingham Palace. Ever since, it’s just been clip, file, and (sometimes) buff. And done by myself, I might add. …
Both my daughters have taken piano lessons. The older one started in late second grade, and after two and a half years, when it looked like one or both of us was going to get seriously hurt from the battles that raged over practicing, I let little sister take her place at lessons, on a gray winter day when big sister refused to go. It was a no-brainer. Little sister was dying to start– she’d been sitting at the piano and “pretend” playing for months, only her pretend sounded pretty good compared to the cantankerous banging made by most 7-year-olds– so it wasn’t too tough of a decision to let her start a year earlier than I’d planned. She walked proudly down the street with me to the piano teacher’s house and was so excited to get her own music.