Grown in the Heart

by Anonymous at Her Bad Mother's Basement
Posted on Thursday, August 30, 2007

I’m crying tonight. I’m sad tonight. I’m angry tonight.

It wouldn’t be so bad if those facts somehow distinguished tonight from the last and the one before that, but it doesn’t.

I want to rewind a bit, that for you the basement dwellers to know who I am.

I grew up in a small town, with 4 older brothers, two adoring parents who have been married 38 years now, two special grandmothers, and many friends. I did not dream anything that I wasn’t given the opportunity to accomplish. That said, life was never easy. I was adopted, and while my adopted parents were fantastic, I had a rough start in life, my fetal hood, and tiny baby hood (taken away by state at 2 months old) caused some nutritional issues that hold me still today. Depression has also followed me all the days of my life.

I got through school and chose to pursue a career in animal science, using it to breed horses, the kind I’ve ridden since I was almost 5, in horse shows. At the time I’d already been an assistant at my show barn and helped my coach in all the aspects of her job. I was hired there while attending school, I loved it. I thanked God everyday for giving me a job I’d always love.

Then it happened, one of my best friends up until that point and time had strayed a bit into drugs and alcohol and one day in 2002, when I was 20, she told me she was pregnant. Read more...

An open letter to the crack whore who marries Boy, from a grateful mother-in-law

by RachelW from Diary of a mad, mad housewife
Posted on July 16, 2007

July 16, 2033

Dear Madam:

Oh. I'm sorry - is "Madam" rude? A little too ... um, relevant? I wasn't sure exactly sure how to address you. Crack whore seemed a bit strong, really. A tad, um... harsh. Would CW be OK? I do apologize. Man and I just aren't too familiar with these kinds of things, and had never really envisioned becoming so, either, when our sweet little Boy was placed in our arms for the first time all those years ago. You know - it's the same for everyone really. You count the fingers, toes, and when they're OK, it jumps right to dreaming of him as a captain of industry, doctor, maybe even lawyer, all because of your many strenuous efforts to secure the best preschool and baseball camp in town. And read a lot of the good doctors Seuss and Brazelton.

Well, that's what we, in our innocence, thought, CW. Read more...

Fireworks, Circus Clowns, and Things That Go Bump in the Night

by Slouching Mom at Slouching Towards 40
Posted on July 7, 2007

At our hotel last week we slept the peculiar and stuporous sleep made possible by relentless air conditioning and heavy, double curtains. Sleep so drugged that when it finally releases you from its grip you have no idea where you are or what time it is. So when we awoke on Independence Day, cocooned in our room, we were unaware for some time that the threat of severe thunderstorms had left fireworks organizers concerned and dithering. They had not officially cancelled the evening's festivities, but we learned that they might do so at any moment.

All week Jack had been asking pointed questions about these now-iffy fireworks. Could they come close enough to people to burn them? How loud would they be? Would there be an actual fire? No? But then why are they called fireworks? We had suspected that he might be anxious about the fireworks. (Last year he had hated them so much that we ended up fitting him with a pair of headphones, enabling him to tune them out altogether.) But along with these suspicions we had hoped that a year might make a difference, that Ben's enthusiasm for them might prove infectious. Read more...

What I Got, Mama?

by Amanda at Tumble Dry
Posted on July 4, 2007

Today is the 4th of July, which means that I have been actively playing the role of mom for close to three years, more if you include the following-every-rule-and-heeding-every-piece-of advice-received-from-strangers-and-read-in-magazines 40 weeks of pregnancy. I am not ashamed to admit that some of the more subtle cues offered by Briar were lost on me,

"She's a little night owl, just doesn't want to go to bed until 11." This said cheerfully after she writhed in our arms howling beginning at seven each night and ending as she passed out from exhaustion four hours later.

Neither of us really understood what she was saying until she was nearly two, now her sister at one declares, "Poop" and "diaper" with perfect clarity. "Wow! So much better at communicating." This from Briar about us. Read more...

Be Still

by Carrien at She Laughs at the Days
Posted July 4, 2007

I had no idea until I had small children how much time is spent just waiting for them. Have you ever tried to hurry a two year old along on a walk, through an area he's never seen before? They stop to examine every single bug and leaf and blade of grass. They pick up every piece of trash on the sidewalk and show it to you. They speak in paragraphs instead of sentences, very repetitive paragraphs that they start all over again from the very beginning if they are interrupted halfway through. It's enough to drive a grown-up in a hurry mad. Read more...

Blood

by Beck at Frog and Toad are Still Friends
Posted on July 4, 2007

This morning has been a busy one already, this suddenly hectic day. Later this morning - in about an hour - I am taking The Girl to visit the doctor where she will have some blood drawn to test, I mention casually, her white blood cell count.

Yeah, nothing scary there.

Most likely she has allergies. Or she's anemic - she certainly doesn't EAT and I'm prone to anemia, too. But there's that other scary thing that they're testing for and let us not even name it right now. Read more...