A brown belt for Big Guy – not that it’s important
Mon, 12/03/12 – 12:49 | Comments Off

It was testing week in karate and, as usual, Big Guy was under the gun. Not as much as he used to be, when he didn’t have a clue and had to frantically cram, but …

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Picky eaters and allergy-safe cooking — the two aren’t necessarily unrelated.

Girl Gone Wonk

From policy to politics, this rant’s for you.


The day’s events in a family way — unless something else amuses me.

School days

From preschool to kindergarten — so far

Simple Gifts

Inexpensive homemade gifts, creative parties and low-cost projects, for Christmas and beyond. Many are easy enough for children to help.

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Articles tagged with: tantrums

Upping the ante on Oscar-worthy performances
Monday, 22 Jun, 2009 – 11:34 | Comments Off
Upping the ante on Oscar-worthy performances

Had I not been the target, Boots’ backyard baseball performance yesterday would have been hilarious.
Big Guy and I were playing catch while Boots sulked inside with his Thomas DVD. After about 15 minutes, the game …

Longing for the genteel terrible twos
Wednesday, 27 May, 2009 – 11:23 | 2 Comments
Longing for the genteel terrible twos

The problem with a 3-year-old’s tantrums is that they’ve lost the mystery, the romance.
When a 2-year-old throws a fit, you can patiently run through the list of usual suspects. “Are you hungry? Do you need …

Come on Mom, give in. Once won’t hurt
Sunday, 23 Nov, 2008 – 15:31 | 2 Comments
Come on Mom, give in. Once won’t hurt

Ever since Big Guy was old enough to spit his first “gimme it,” I’ve had a firm rule: I don’t negotiate with terrorists.
Throw a fit, you’re not going to get it. At least not until …

9to5to9: Calgon take them away – far, far away
Monday, 10 Nov, 2008 – 0:50 | Comments Off
9to5to9: Calgon take them away – far, far away

Some days I don’t understand why the authorities frown on duct taping kids and locking them in the closet.
Days like today.
Days when Big Guy rousts me at the crack of 9 a.m. with an …

Little Guy’s doctor rebellion
Monday, 25 Aug, 2008 – 8:24 | Comments Off

For the most part, Little Guy is a fairly unflappable kid. He’s so chilled, in fact, that he slept through his circumcision.

Once in a while, though, he proves he is a normal toddler with all the usual quirks and fears.

Such when he asked if he could go to the park tomorrow morning and I let it slip that he has a doctor’s appointment.

“”No!”" he pouted, big-lipped. “”Don’t need a ketchup. I talk real good.”"

When he fell asleep an hour later, he still was protesting the ketchup. At least tonight there were no cries with that.

I’m not sure where that notion originated. Maybe he’s remembering Big Guy’s recent checkup, which was highly conversational, between the vision and hearing tests and the pediatrician’s general chit-chat. It also was heavy on tantrums — the doctor

Phases of the moon never fail to faze the guys
Wednesday, 23 Jul, 2008 – 6:14 | Comments Off

Friday was a picture-perfect night at the ballpark. Breezy but not chilly, warm but not oppressive. And perched over the left field wall, like a backdrop from a Broadway production: a round, orange moon.

“Oh, look, Mommy! It’s beautiful!” Big Guy gasped.

And it was a gorgeous full moon. Full moon? Oh, crap.

We did a story almost 20 years ago when I was at a small southern West Virginia newspaper on moon phases and crime, looking at a year of police logs to see if misbehavior increased proportionally to the moon’s girth. It did.

Either we picked an aberrational year or we really are different in West Virginia. Although there are some national studies confirming our results, most scholarly works find no correlation between full moons and full jails, according to a University of Washington

Picture perfect epiblogue
Sunday, 1 Jun, 2008 – 21:00 | Comments Off

Little Guy was just not feeling it today.

It’s not that every part of Picture Day wasn’t a fascinating experience. The giant mushroom props were a blast, and “sneak behind the backdrop” was a great new game. And trying to crash into expensive photo equipment is always fun.

But when it came to actually sitting or standing still long enough for a picture — thanks, but not now. Big Guy, on the other hand, was angelic. Sat and posed nicely. The smile wasn’t even too goofy. Big Guy, however, is old enough to understand a bribe, and I was rolling out the heavy artillery. “If you be a good listener, we’ll stop by my office after pictures. And we’ll go to the donut shop after that.”

It was

Rage of angels
Sunday, 1 Jun, 2008 – 20:06 | Comments Off

Mommy requests the honor of your presence at a debutante bawl honoring Little Guy. Black tie optional; ear plugs mandatory

The calendar says the actual event is weeks off, but the attitude says something entirely different. Just ask anyone who was in SaveMart Saturday morning. Yep, Little Guy has met the Terrible Twos.

Except for a few isolated storms — the unfortunate airplane incident, for example — Little Guy’s always been a pretty chilled dude. When he did fuss, it was for one of two reasons: Hungry or sleepy.

His tiny fits were endearing in a way. His chin would drop and his eyes would shoot a wounded look. His mouth would start quivering, and the face would crumble. “Waaaahhhhh!!!!” But not a waahhh without warning. You could always see it build.

Saturday, though, was quite a coming out party for acting out with little notice.

Take me out to the bawl game
Sunday, 1 Jun, 2008 – 19:30 | Comments Off

The chance to watch a major leaguer in Modesto sent my fingers racing ahead my good sense. Buyer’s remorse came immediately after I bought tickets for Sunday’s Nuts game, though.

A 1 p.m. start that would disrupt Little Guy’s nap. An Easter Day game with kids jacked on sugar. Endless chasing of small people when I’d rather plop my butt in a seat and enjoy a game.

But I really wanted to see Randy Johnson, so my inner Pollyanna popped up. The last game we’d gone to featured minimal fussing and few hikes around the concourse. Maybe it would work.

I list self-delusion under “other skills” on my resume.

It was a great two innings. Little Guy sat patiently, and Big Guy was mesmerized by just about everything. The grass, the new scoreboard, Wally and Al. Mostly Wally, as long as he kept his distance. If the mascot came close, Big Guy would Velcro himself to me.

But, then: “Daddy, I’m hungry.” Never mind that we’d asked Big Guy 3,986 times before the game if he wanted to eat. Dad trudged off, hoping to buy a few innings’ peace. Meanwhile, storm clouds formed around Little Guy. Squirms turned into kicks, whimpers became wails. A kind couple across the aisle gave us a lollipop, which mollified him until the candy was gone. Dad and Big Guy returned, and I bolted.

That’s when the world decided to hate me.