Mom Thoughts

Empty Nests, River Otters, and Confusion

Dear Kid Child,

Your mother is losing her marbles (and let’s face it—she didn’t exactly have a full set to begin with). So I’ve sent her to bed (with the fond hope that she’ll have moved on to some new nonsense by tomorrow) and promised her I would write to you.

She wants to adopt river otters.


Your mother wants to adopt river otters. She needs something to cuddle. DearKidLoveMom.comYou heard me. River otters.

I blame her friend the internet.

And Empty Nest Syndrome.

Puppy: What is Empty Nest Syndrome?
Dad: It means Mom doesn’t have anyone to take care of.
Puppy (confused): You’re here to take care of.
Dad: Yep.
Puppy (affronted): And I’M here to take care of!
Dad: Yep.
Puppy (genuinely perplexed): And the Dust Dragons are here to take care of.
Dad: Yep.
Puppy: And she still wants river otters?
Dad: No. She just wants to snuggle something baby-like.
Puppy: I’m the baby!
Dad: Confusing, isn’t it?
Puppy: My thinker hurts. I’m going to take a nap.

I understand how he feels. But I also know we are not getting otters.

Love, Mom Dad

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Shopping for Sports Bras | Not a Challenge for Wimps

Dear Kid,

Last night I picked up my official license plates for my car (and by “picked up” I mean watched as John the Salesguy installed them).

The letters on my plates are GZT. The naming the car contest is now officially begun. Go. 

After that I went shopping.

I went shopping because I had a gift card. And because I needed a sports bra. And because I had a few minutes.

So I shopped.

Now, I’m reasonably sure that you, being a male-type-person, have never gone sports bra shopping. If you have, I really don’t need to know about it. Working on the assumption that you have not personally tried on sports bras, I am here to enlighten you.

First, I found a bunch of pieces of fabric labeled as sports bras. Clearly, the only sport they are intended to be used for is chess. There was nothing either “sports” or “bra” about them. I moved on.

First, I found a bunch of pieces of fabric labeled as sports bras. Clearly, the only sport they are intended to be used for is chess. There was nothing either “sports” or “bra” about them.

And found – and I have the photo evidence to prove it – push-up sports bras. Here’s the thing. I expect a lot from a sports bra. I want it to squeeze in, I want it to contain, I want it to hold down. In no way, shape, or form do I want it to push up. Seriously, who wants to work out with their boobs competing for air space? I can’t breathe, my boobs are blocking my nose! Um, no and no. On the other hand, the idea of my bra doing push-ups for me is incredibly appealing. And hilarious. If I can find a bra that will do squats for me, I will buy it in every shade available. I moved on. 

Seriously, who wants to work out with their boobs competing for air space? I can’t breathe, my boobs are blocking my nose!

And found a rack of what might properly be considered sports bras. I grabbed a few and into the fitting room we went, the bras and I.

The thing about putting on a sports bra is that getting the darn thing on is where you get all the exercise. Forget working out afterward, you’re already exhausted. It take the strength of six people, the dexterity of a professional yoga teacher, and the willpower of a stubborn three year old to get it on. And if you’re putting on one with the zipper in the front, you need at an additional set of hands to get the zipper zipped. And a degree in mechanical engineering. It also helps if you have the vocabulary of a drunk sailor. Seriously, you’d think it would reasonably easy. You’d be wrong.

Not only is it nearly a feat beyond human capacity to try on sports bras, this store had cleverly positioned the tags so that it was impossible to adjust the straps. So I had to guess at whether loosening or tightening them would make the bra fit better. Guessing is not my preferred method of shopping for sports bras.

The first one I tried on was a tad too tight. It was like trying to put the toothpaste back in the tube. With the straps completely wrong. Did I mention the lighting in the dressing room was designed by someone who hates people?

So I tried one size bigger. Which was made for a person twice as big as a hefty elephant. Seriously, we could have put an entire family in this thing and had room left over for a concert piano.

By this time, I was warmed up, so I tried on a third. Which was somehow simultaneously too big and too small. But the design was really cute so after I’d wrestled it on I actually contemplated buying it.

In the end, I did the only reasonable thing. I left the lingerie area empty handed, went to the clearance section and bought an adorable little top which I can’t wear until the temperature warms up about 50 degrees by which time it will be completely out of fashion and obsolete.

Love, Mom

Making 2017 a good year one day at a time

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You Will Not Believe Guess Suspect Posit What Today Is

Dear Kid,

It is a great day to celebrate words.

The present moment is most precipitous for honoring the various parts of speech.

Whoo-hoo for the lingo.

Words are singularly the most powerful force available to humanity. We can choose to use this force constructively with words of encouragement, or destructively using words of despair. Words have energy and power with the ability to help, to heal, to hinder, to hurt, to harm, to humiliate and to humble. Yehuda Berg

What a remarkable time for terminology!

Just a sec while we pause at this juncture of jolly jargon.

Now befalls us an excellent occasion for praising vocabulary.

Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind. Rudyard Kipling ‘Tis a momentous minute for lauding the lexicon.

From dawn ‘til dusk, what better than to rejoice in the contents of the dictionary.

Today, January 18th, is Thesaurus Day. Go ahead, write your own version. And have fun. Enjoy. Make merry. Revel. Party on!

Love, Mom

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A Wedding? That Can’t Possibly Be Right!

Dear Kid,

One possible interpretation is that I chose to wait. That I held on to the holiday letters I received from friends until now so that I could enjoy them in the calm of the new year.

Another interpretation is that I managed to get them all into a pile and then somehow buried the pile under another pile until last weekend when I excavated them.

A third is that I just plum dang forgot about them.

Whichever you believe, the fact is that I just got around to reading them.

I love hearing from friends I don’t get to see often. To learn about all the things that are going on in their lives. To catch up on their comings and goings and pretend that I am just as interesting and just as good at keeping in touch (even though I’m not). Generally, reading the letters is a silent process. But one letter caused me to squawk.

Me: This can’t be right.
Dad: Um?
Me: Gloria’s daughter is getting married!
Dad: Isn’t she, like, 5?
Me: Exactly! She can’t possibly be old enough to tie her own shoes much less tie the knot.

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach. ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning DearKidLoveMom.comMind you, Gloria’s daughter was born on the day Daddy and I got engaged. And by utilizing some creative math (and by “math” I mean makeup) and holding tight to an excessive amount of denial, there is no way that child is more than a pre-teen.

(Yes, I know reality would seem to indicate she’s somewhat older than you. I’m in denial over that too.)

This is how I’ve got it figured: Gloria looks about a week older than she did when we were in school. The last time I saw her daughter was when she was an infant. I clearly have not aged more than a few years since then. Voila! Creative math and statistical improbabilities.

Which makes it harder to celebrate our (Dad’s and my) anniversary with any amount of accuracy, but I’ve always been flexible when it comes to that sort of thing.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must contact the authorities about a toddler getting married.

Love, Mom

P.S. If somehow my calculations and permutations are off and she is old enough (ha!) to get married, I wish everyone all the best for a wonderful next chapter. 

P.P.S. And really good waterproof mascara for the wedding day.

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Puppy Conversations | The Kid Goes Back to College

Dear Kid,

Puppy: Mom! There are suitcases.
Me: Yes, sweetie.
Puppy: And bags.
Me: Also true.
Puppy: Which means someone is leaving, right?
Me: Well, yes. The Kid is going back to college.
Puppy: What?!
Me: It’s time for him to go back to school.
Puppy: What did I do wrong?
Me: Wrong? Honey, you didn’t do anything wrong.
Puppy: Is it because I slept too much? I can try to stay awake more.
Me: Sweetie, he’s not leaving because of your sleeping.
Puppy: Then why is he leaving?! I tried to behave so he would stay.
Me: You are a wonderful Puppy. The Kid isn’t leaving because of how much you slept or how you behaved. He’s leaving because he has to go back to school.
Puppy: Does he still love me?
Me: Absolutely, he still loves you. It’s just time for him to leave.
Puppy: Will he hug me goodbye?
Me: Not only will he hug you, I’m betting he’ll give you a goodbye scratch under your chin.
Puppy: And he will come back?
Me: Yes, sweetheart. He will definitely come back.
Puppy: I guess that’s OK…but I still don’t like it.
Me: I certainly understand that.

Love, Mom

Who do you know who would enjoy Puppy Conversations? Share the love
See more puppy conversations

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Introducing Today’s Goal: Making 2017 a good year one day at a time

Dear Kid,

Today's Goal: Making 2017 a good year one day at a time. DearKidLoveMom.comYou may recall that we were all (and by “all” I mean all mammals—I don’t interact with the insect world if I can avoid it so I don’t really know how they feel about things) ready for 2016 to be done and over with.

On a whim, I decided that while we (and by “we” I mean me and the people I know well) can’t really impact world peace, global warming, or bad hair days, we can impact our own corner of the world. At least a little.

So I started posting ideas for making 2017 a better place. Little ideas. Highly achievable goals. Mostly goals that only took a moment or two and little or no money.

Three things happened (there are always three):

First, my good friends wondered where my Snark had gone. Not to worry; it’s alive and well and purring contentedly right next to me.

Second, people started enjoying, complimenting, and requesting more of these little goals. And I love a good audience!

And third, the Universe became a nicer place. We didn’t cure cancer or figure out how to prevent paper cuts, but there seem to be more smiles. More …. Nice.

(Making 2017 a good year one day at a time)

So I’ve created a page for Today’s Goal: Making 2017 a good year one day at a time. I can’t promise it will always be up to date (if you want the daily “goal” update, follow me on Twitter or FB) but you can always check the page to see any “goals” you missed.

Love, Mom

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