One of my earliest childhood memories is being tied to the mailbox in our front yard by my older brother. I have no idea how long I sat there. Five minutes? Two hours? No clue. One could argue it was closer to the two-hour mark considering it’s been burned into my psyche for all eternity.
When I brought this up to my mother recently, I was met with a
Well, you survived.
Uh, yeah. But it seems like the odds were stacked against me.
Mailbox trauma aside, my childhood was pretty much the bee’s knees. I grew up in New…
From the second I heard his heartbeat I’ve been madly, profoundly, hopelessly in love. So what do I say to the woman he’s about to marry?
“Two things every woman needs: her own bank account and her own career,” my mother-in-law casually told me one morning over coffee. “It doesn’t matter how deliriously in love she is. If a woman is financially dependent on her husband, she’s in a bad spot. Don’t turn into that woman.”
This conversation took place about a week before I married her only son. At the time, I was ready to talk about seating arrangements…
Last September, my three year old was admitted to the ICU with a collapsed lung and severe bilateral pneumonia. My husband and I took shifts sitting bedside, tagging each other out so the other could shower and reassure our other 3 kids that their little brother would be home soon. When? Soon. We hoped.
Our son was eventually discharged from the hospital and my husband and I were so grateful to have the whole family underneath the same roof again that we didn’t dare complain about administering our son his now near-constant breathing treatments around our equally busy work schedules.
We all know the Golden Rule of Coparenting post divorce: Don’t talk badly about the other parent– within earshot, at least. But what about all the other stuff?
Cool shirt, buddy. I love the dinosaur.
Thanks, Mommy. My daddy got it for me.
Gut punch. My daddy. My daddy. A few months prior, it was just daddy. Where did this my come from?
Stunned with my sudden fall from grace–from mommy to outsider–I turned up the music on the car radio and stared straight ahead as my 3 year old boy nodded off to sleep, blissfully unaware of how he…
The scoop on what your child’s teacher really thinks about you.
That’s me up there holding the butterfly. I used to teach the second grade. I loved teaching. Like, loved it loved it.
I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I forged truly life-changing relationships with many of my students’ parents over the years.
But it wasn’t all butterflies.
I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t have to bite my tongue around a whole lot of other parents over the years as well.
Now that I’ve gotten a bit of distance from the classroom, I’d like to…
Distracted much? According to the experts, you might be a creative genius.
“You come up with some truly innovative ideas, but you take on too many projects all at once. You need to learn to focus on one thing at a time.”
That’s what my last boss said right before he fired me. He wasn’t entirely wrong. I do take on lots of projects all at once. That’s just the way I’m wired.
In my mind, I’m all, “Can’t I fly helicopters and be an oceanographer who writes songs and cooks?”
Yeah, turns out he didn’t think I could.
My name is Jacqueline and my son will be in your kindergarten class this fall.
First off, I need to apologize in advance. I will be that mom.
You know, the mom who asks a few too many questions.
The one who is around a little too much and seems a little too eager to help.
I may even be the mom who comes to her child’s defense a little too quickly.
And yes, all of this horrifies me. Because I don’t want to be that mom. I know what it’s like to have to deal with that mom.
Teacher. Writer. Website designer. Creator @ Shore Points Mom/Shore Points Family.