Our own Newscoma has a story about a woman who lives in Arkansas and is expecting her 18th child. Michelle Dugger, 41, is due on New Year’s Day. The children range in age from 20 to 6 months. I have no understanding of what her life is like. That’s got to be like $30 a week in milk alone…

Full story. And, the family has a web site.

Edit: They also have a TV show on the Discovery Health Channel, it seems. You can even play “Name that Duggar!”

I found this site, Free Range kids, and the post, through Brittney’s blog. The premise is pretty simple: give your nine-year-old kid a subway map, a MetroCard, a $20, some quarters for a phone call, drop him off at Bloomingdales and see if he makes it home. They’re giving them the same freedom kids of my generation (and maybe yours) had. My mom never had a clue where we were and I’m (somewhat) civilized despite that.

We become so bent out of shape over something as simple as letting your children out of sight on the playground that it starts seeming on par with letting them play on the railroad tracks at night. In the rain. In dark non-reflective coats. …

Meantime, my son wants his next trip to be from Queens. In my day, I doubt that would have struck anyone as particularly brave. Now it seems like hitchhiking through Yemen.

Some of the commenters have expresed the feeling that child protective services ought to be called. What’s your take on this - is it independence training or criminal negligence, parents?

OK, so I never understood the term “little pitchers” in the phrase, “Little pitchers have big ears” but I do understand it’s implication. Children are sponges and they absorb everything, especially everything they hear. I don’t have a sailor’s mouth but I do struggle with “coarse language” from time to time. My favorite is, “crap”. I say that way too much. And during my Battlestar Galactica marathons, “frak” seems to easily roll of my tongue. I really try to make sure I’m not saying these things around the kids. For me, it’s bad enough that my three old regularly says, “What the…?” Sure he’s left off the “hell” (for some it would be the “f*ck”) because the person he’s heard it from leaves off the “hell” when she says it. (Guilty, as charged.)

That being said, I commiserate and sympathize with this scene from Chez Béziat:

they’re playfully jabbering away at a comfortable noise level and all is well. But… it suddenly occurs to me that there’s a word I hear that should not be coming from their little mouths. I perk up to make sure I’m hearing what I think I’m hearing. “Dammit.” Back and forth, they are repeating it to each other in the sweetest of voices. Crap. Time to get back to parenting.

Me: Hey! Kids…

Kids: What?

Me: Do not ever say that word. Where did you hear it?

Joshua: Nowhere.

Me: Um. No sir. You heard it somewhere. Otherwise you wouldn’t know that word. Where?

Joshua: I heard it in my Ninja Turtles movie.

OK, I have no idea if this is possible. Did they utter that word in one of the Ninja Turtle movies? I just go back to a lecture about how they are not to say that word. Then his little sister pipes in.

Ari: I heard it on Dora.

Dora!?!? I just knew Nickelodeon was evil! It is, afterall, owned by MTV! (Kidding!) Go see how it really went down.
Guess maybe I need to wash my mouth out with soap. But I think I’ll use the kids’ Foaming Bubble Berry as opposed to regular old Dial!

A creative way to get your kids into the bath when they protest:

Most every evening we get a little push back around bath time…”Daddy, I’m not dirty…” “Daddy…we just took a shower last night…” “Daddy…I don’t want to…”

And the dance goes on for a moment. With the requisite fussing and the disdain and the disinterest in cleanliness. And a rising level of frustration among all parties.

But one night The Beautiful Bride had the most amazing thought…

After we give the call to tub, and begin to hear the girls give their typical chorus of “the top reasons I do not need to clean myself tonight” our new quick and easy reply is…

We currently don’t have bathtime resistance at our house but I’ll tuck this one away for future reference. I think it may come in handy one day.

Here in Middle Tennessee, at the beginning of every school year, there are dozens of forms to fill out that are kept on file at the schools. In particular there is a form which indicates how a student should be transported home in the event that school closes early due to inclement weather. Normally my child rides the bus to and from school, but I indicated on the form that in the event of an early closing, I would come to school and get her. This decision was mainly fueled by the “big snow” Nashville got back in 2003. I remember hearing stories on the news and from friends and acquaintances of children being stuck on buses for hours and hours and not arriving home until much later in the day. I figured that if we got stuck, at least we’d be stuck together and I wouldn’t be worrying about her safety (at least her safety in the hands of another person who is also overseeing the safety of 30 or more other children.) But here in Middle Tennessee, that’s about as “horrific” as it gets when planning for the worst.

But if you head East on I-40 a few hours from here you’ll get to the Oak Ridge community where there is a nuclear power plant. I wonder if the parents in Oak Ridge have the same experience at the beginning of each school year as the parents in Brattleboro, VT?

My daughter will be entering high school next year, and I am filling out the usual forms. “Evacuation Permission” falls under the usual form category here in Brattleboro, Vt., because we live eight miles from a nuclear power plant.

On the form, I need to indicate if: 1) She may leave in the car she drives to school; 2) She may leave as a passenger with another student; or 3) She must be transferred by bus to the “reception center.”

My daughter and her friends are not driving yet. Ice runs through my veins when I think of her jammed inside a yellow bus riding 20 miles north on the interstate to a “reception center” with twice as many parents in panicked pursuit.

I call my friend Ruby, who teaches in the high school. “Can I write in your name and tell my daughter to go directly to you?” but before she even replies, the pieces of the picture start falling into place. Ruby and her colleagues will be in charge of 1,500 teenagers. “You have to get all those kids in the buses and ride to the reception center, don’t you?”

This is not the first time I’ve played out a version of this disaster in my mind. Not so recently, I went to a meeting to recruit volunteers for the American Red Cross. When the recruiter laid out responsibilities such as setting up cots at the reception center after an “accident,” I began to squirm.

Read the rest of the article here.

It reminds me of the scene in Deep Impact where everyone is trying to “get out of Dodge” and the Interstate is crammed with cars and eventually comes to a standstill. Still, I think the author makes a very good point. We’ll never really be completely prepared for the worst and we can only try to keep our humor about us when preparing for it.

h/t: The Squirrel Queen

A recent post from Sarcastro regarding an incident at his son’s school brought out the differences between how a father parents and how mother parents.

Apparently, an eighth grade girl had a “hit list” of people she didn’t like. Pandemonium then proceeded to erupt.

…

Never mind the media adding to the pants shitting hysteria of neurotic parents. But go ahead and read the lede from Channel 4.

A local school system is dealing with hit lists, and they believe they are coming from an eighth-grade student.

Oh. Now it is multiple lists? Not multiple lists! Oh, the humanity!

Mrs. Sarcastro went into full panic mode over this stupid damn thing. She started railing about whatever it is that Security Moms get worked up about.

I foolishly tried to extinguish this blaze of outrage.

“What’s the big deal? This kid made a list. So what?”

“What if one of our kids was on that list?”

“So what? It’s just a list.”

“It was a KILL list!”

“So kids are getting expelled from school for making lists?”

“She brought a gun to school!”

“No. She might or might not have brought a gun to school, and if she did, then she should be expelled and charged. If she really brought a gun to school, don’t you think that would be the story instead of this stupid list bullshit?”

“If 13 was on that list, I would have him in private school so fast…”

“Like that is a solution. Nothing bad happens in private schools. Just ask those Amish girls.”

Even in the comments, a line was drawn distinguishing the maternal instinct from the paternal one.

Sending our children out into the world is indeed very gut wrenching and scary. Of course we don’t want anything to happen to them. But how does a parent reconcile this without keeping their kids under lock and key 24/7? And if we did, we’d look like abusers or crazies or both. What’s the answer? Private school? Homeschooling? Police on campus? Zero tolerance? Metal detectors?

But this was just a list. And as Sarcastro says:

It just seems un-American somehow to cultivate the idea in children that putting their thoughts onto paper is a crime. We aren’t making our kids safer, we’re just making them better sheep.

Now that is a very scary thought.

When I was twelve, I had to change schools in the town I lived in. I had been at one school for six years and then because of financial circumstances, I went to a different school when I entered 7th grade. When I was thirteen, my family moved from Abilene, Texas to Centreville, Virginia. So, I went to eighth grade at another school. Then between eighth and ninth grade, we bought a house in the next county, so I started High School at a completely different school, again. Three school changes in three years. And it was tough. Really, tough. That’s such a hard age already with puberty hitting. Then add the turmoil of moving, leaving friends, trying to make new friends, starting “Junior High”, starting High School and it’s a wonder I don’t have enormous therapy bills! Those were not easy years for me which is why I was surprised and encouraged to read how the daughter of the blogger at Busy Mom’s Journal made the decision to change schools all on her own!

My daughter is entering high school next year. She’s been at the same school since kindergarten…9 years. It’s a wonderful school, and we have had an incredible experience here. … She decided last fall that she wanted to take a look at another well respected school here in town, an all-girl’s school. She’s very intrigued by the single sex aspect of the school. She toured and visited classes last fall with a couple of the high school students and fell in love with it. So we applied…

And she got in! But it was harder to make the decision that they expected it to be. But what she says here about the experience would make any parent proud.

Will things change? Sure they will. They will change whether she stays at the old school or not. I am so proud of her for making this decision. For taking a leap of faith to something she’s not familiar with. For taking a chance. If no one ever took chances, where would they be? There might be regrets. But for sure, there will be new experiences, new opportunities, and if she doesn’t try them she’ll never know what’s out there.

I certainly wasn’t mature enough at fourteen to look at my circumstances as new experiences and new opportunities. I just wanted my old friends and my old school back. This young lady is already on her way to being a well-adjusted adult who can make good, sound decisions.

~Emilie Buchwald~

Something I take entirely for granted is my ability to read. Reading and books have been apart of my life for as long as I can remember. For me, passing on the love of reading to my children has been very natural. There was no, “will I read to my children?” or “if I read to my children”. I just read to them everyday. Sometimes it’s because they’ve requested that I read to them. And there’s always reading time before bed time. I love hearing of other parents who taking reading to their kids seriously, as well.

From Lit(erature) On Fire:

We read to our son every night before bed.

Most nights we finish reading with the book I Love You Goodnight.

Often, I feel compelled to ask my son this one nerdy question before we read I Love You Goodnight. Tonight as we finished reading one of his favorite science books (he wants to be a mad scientist when he grows up), I opened I Love You Goodnight and asked him, “Do you know what this is?” He looked up at me with half a smile and half annoyance and said “Do I have to?”. I shook my head vigorously and he said with little enthusiasm, “A true story…” Yep.

I’m compelled to remind our Music City Bloggers readers about the Governor’s Books From Birth Foundation that supplies children in Tennessee a free, hardcover book each month. Any child age five and under, in Tennessee, is eligible for this program. Go here to find your county’s Imagination Library and the contact for information for signing up for the program.

Also, Nashville Public Library’s website offers a wonderful “kids section“. Children can even get their own library cards. Contact your local branch for details.

He that loves a book will never want a faithful friend,
a wholesome counselor, a cheerful companion, an effectual comforter.
By study, by reading, by thinking, one may innocently
divert and pleasantly entertain himself,
as in all weathers, as in all fortunes.
~ Barrow ~

When I look back, I am so impressed again
with the life-giving power of literature.
If I were a young person today, trying to gain a sense of
myself in the world, I would do that again by reading,
just as I did when I was young.
~ Maya Angelou ~

If you can read this, thank a teacher.
~ Anonymous Teacher ~

Unless of course, you want this to happen…

Now maybe your kids will listen to you when you warn them about swallowing chewing gum!

(h/t: my friend Lisa in VA)

Knucklehead’s daughter had a birthday the other day. And he knew exactly how to play it:

I got nothing for you. So here’s what I’m going to do. On the way to pick you up at school today, I’m going to stop in a WalMart or Target or some other crappy, soulless corporate big box store and grab a bunch of crap made in China and throw some gift bags and tissue paper in the cart and pay for it and put it all together in the parking lot. The whole process is going to take less than 10 minutes.

It’s not that I’m not thoughtful, it’s that you’re seven. It doesn’t matter what I get, it’s going to end up at the bottom of your closet in two days.

Oh, the truth that is so painful! High School Musical digital camera that my daughter was so very excited about at Christmas? Hasn’t been used in weeks. Train set that my son got for his birthday? Track pieces get scattered around the house and used as makeshift swords not as the foundation for a intricate railway system. (Or course, he’s three, what did I really expect there?)

And really, do you remember what you got when turned seven? I mean unless it was a pony or a backyard swimming pool chances are you don’t remember the specifics of that birthday. But what we all remember is whether or not we were loved. Sometimes showing love happens in the form of plastic toys from China, but Lil Knuck will one day be able to look back and know that her Dad loved and cared for her and taught her the really important stuff life like:

golf course etiquette and a love of football and an appreciation for sarcasm and the proper timing of a punch line

See, it’s all good!

Amy at Milk Breath and Margaritas (love that blog title!) gives a big shout out to the Room Mothers:

I want to say thank you to all the Room Mothers.

Thank you for organizing the class parties and offering to drive for the field trips. Thank you for all that you do to help the teacher throughout the year.

Amy works full-time and can’t be a school room mother but she willingly helps out in ways that she can. And that’s the way it should be. The stay-at-home mothers shouldn’t be expected to do all the work and the work-away-from-home mothers should be able to contribute as they can without anyone passing judgment. I’m a stay-at-home mother but I’m not the room mother for my daughter’s class. I’m her Brownie troop leader and I have a three-year old son at home with me. I know my limits and how many commitments can be too much for me. There are so many times that I wish that I could be in her school room more often but since I can’t be, I do what I can.

Having just watched Mr. Mom the other night, I was intrigued to read about a dustup surrounding a Lindsay Ferrier article and accompanying blog post. Follow the links on her page for the whole story, but Lindsay’s “offense” was writing candidly (and humorously) about the reality of isolation for SAHDs (which, I learned, means “Stay At Home Dads”)–in particular, the awkwardness of them joining “Moms Groups.”

The movie–and Lindsay’s post(s) were particularly poignant, because I was a SAHD of sorts for a spell a couple years ago. The movie, in particular, reminded me of why I was so relieved to transition out of the Mr. Mom role. Maybe if I had networked into some moms groups my experience would have been different, but I doubt it. Which brings me back to Lindsay’s article.

I’m inclined to say that Ferrier is only guilty of being politically incorrect. I can’t believe that SAHDs will ever find a perfect fit in the world of homemaking, anymore than a woman will find her way into the Monday Night Football booth.

Like video killed the radio star, blogging just may well kill the baby book as katie allison granju points out in this post.

I can’t tell you how true this is. I didn’t start blogging until after my son was born. My daughter’s baby book is FULL of all the stuff she did: pictures, milestones, birthdays, holidays, monthly updates during her first year…everything! My son’s baby book? Not so much! But where you’ll find a good bit of documentation about both of them is on my blog (well, a lot of it is on the old blog but I really do plan on turning into a “real” book via Lulu.com…eventually).

And I’ve read numerous other bloggers who have made statements along the lines of, “I don’t keep a regular baby book, my blog is my baby book!”

Katie’s post was inspired by a post from First Impressionist who says:

There are so many things a person experiences growing up and much of it is forgotten. It’s nice to think that current and future generations can do a web search and re-experience an innocuous afternoon outing, a particular Halloween, an afternoon movie, shopping for school clothes etc…and as an added bonus, see themselves through their parent’s perspective whether it be one of annoyance or amusement. I think being able to see the love behind each post will be reassuring as well.

I really believe on the whole, it will help a lot of kids as they are trying to figure themselves out, appreciate many valuable aspects to their personalities that are typically easy to forget or overlook. The blog-journal is a kind of proof of the child’s value somehow that stands on its own regardless of the changing relationship between parent and child.

Katie says at her own place:

I feel compelled to mention that I never blog about 95% of the specifics of my kids’ lives, and that becomes even more the case as they get older…

Personally, I don’t think it’s the specifics that are as compelling and interesting as the memories that are recorded, the off beat conversations, the unposed and hilarious pictures that are posted, and the unabashed proclamations of how much a parent loves, adores and cherishes their children. And for now, I know my personal blogging of what my kids are up to is helping me remember oft forgot portions of their lives. I hope when they’re older, they’ll appreciate having my words and their Dads’ words to look back on, to see in a rather tangible way the joy they bring to our lives.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m so “over” Valentine’s Day but I also recognize my disdain for it comes from the fact that I’ve had someone to “celebrate” this ridiculous holiday with for the past, ouch, 17 years. The “ouch” comes from the fact I just realized while typing that, that I was seventeen on our first Valentine’s Day together. Sorry, that’s just blowing my mind a little bit. OK, moving on…this holiday does bring out some of the best in many of us and provides excellent blog fodder. Here’s a sampling from some locals, not-so-locals and former locals. (I’ll update, hopefully, throughout the day as I find more.)

Valentine’s Day, Sarcastro style - and I have to say, I was a bit surprised by his candor and openness but glad to see his biting wit is still in place:

That beautiful smile. That picture you have in the car of us, early in the courtship, you are grinning ear to ear. It is one of my favorite pictures of you. If I wreck the car, it will be due to staring at your picture. Thus, any auto accident I am involved in is YOUR fault. My insurance company will be in touch.

Shoot, I guess this is how my parents felt seventeen years ago!

I’m crushin’ on Google’s logo today. All together now…Awwwww!

Nicole at Sitting Still isn’t really talking Valentine’s, but I love what she says about fake feelings versus real feelings. The post is about post-partum depression and how at times, she had to do a bit of “fake it til ya make it” expressions of happiness for the sake of her family and her own sanity. Thankfully, over time, the smiles are not longer fake and that feels so good:

This time, I wasn’t putting on a boisterous display of happy for his sake. I think I probably sighed and smiled weakly, relieved to have him home. However, as difficult as this afternoon was, I also wasn’t miserable. I wasn’t doubting myself or my ability to mother these children. Exhausted? Yes. Touched out? For sure. But still able to laugh at myself when I told Claire she had something on that “area below her lip” and she came back with, “You mean my CHIN, mommy?” Indeed.

It ain’t perfect, but it’s real. And right now? Real feels good.

This is what many of us are really excited about today. I’m totally getting the kiddos to bed early tonight!

LeBlanc puts his Valentine’s grinchy self on the shelf and springs for flowers. Good for you!

I sent one of these JibJab e-cards to DB. The customizable ones are a hoot! h/t: Mrs. Fussypants

It’s a masterpiece in the making. Go see.

There are a couple of stories in the news regarding parenting that have caught my attention. Both came out of Florida and involve punishment of a child via making them stand on busy street sidewalks holding a sign listing their offense.

Story 1:
Did This Mom Go Too Far?
Mom Made Second-Grader Hold Sign on Street to Apologize for Behaving Badly

Mother Makes Son Hold Sign In Front Of School To Teach Him A Lesson

Story 2:
14-Year-Old Thief Shamed At Orange Co. Intersection

I found the second story while looking for links about the first story. Both appear to have happened yesterday in Florida, one in Jacksonville and one in Orange County.

So the issue surrounding these stories is, “Is this an acceptable punishment?” The poll offered by WESH.com regarding the 14 year-old boy has an overwhelming response of “Yes”, with 91% of respondents answering in the affirmative. A quick overview of the comments at the ABCnews.com site shows many, many comments to the effect of “Way to go Mom!” & “Give that Mom a hand!”

Personally, I’m torn. On the one hand, where children are concerned, I’ve never viewed public humiliation as an acceptable form of punishment. (I’m less appalled when it’s an adult but still wonder about its ramifications.) On the other hand, it is nice to see parents taking a creative and active role in disciplining their children. Apparently both boys were disciplined by their schools with suspension from classes but their moms felt that wasn’t enough to get their attention and actually bring about a change in behavior.

I still don’t think that I would punish my child that way though. I think in parenting, you have to find what works for you and your child. Of course, that does not include out right abuse. And children are different in terms of what they respond to, even siblings. Time outs work for one child while taking away privileges works for the other. Sometimes you do need to get your child’s attention to really impress upon them the gravity of what they’ve done.

So what say you? Was the punishment appropriate? Acceptable? Did your parents employ any creative ways of punishment when you were growing up? What sorts of punishments work well with your kids?

Phil participated in a little meme about parenting: 10 Things I’m Learning From Being a Parent. He tagged me on it, but since it fits so well into my category of posting here at MCB, I’ll just highlight a few items from his list and add my commentary.

3. Reading the Little House on the Prairie series every night has been one of the neatest things to do.

Yes, I agree. We read this series to our daughter almost two years ago. I remember getting so into the story that if I missed a chapter one night because DB had put her to bed instead of me, I would get the book and catch up before reading to her the next night.

6. Calvin and Hobbes is sometimes the most incredible representation of a six-year-old’s life.

Totally.

8. Picking out an outfit for a boy is much easier than for a girl.

Hmmm…I sort of agree with this one. I found it was easier to find cute things for my daughter to wear while my son’s wardrobe consists mainly of sweatpants and t-shirts. I think it’s harder to pick out nice outfits for boys that are neither too cutesy nor too grown-up looking.

I’ve also learned that parenting doesn’t really get any easier as they get older, that books hold their attention better than television (when I read to them), peanut butter and jelly sandwiches never go out of style and “I love you Mommy” from your child is the sweetest phrase in any language.

How about you parents out there? What sorts of things have you learned from being a parent?

A flashback about
A momentous decision
Written in haiku

Jeff Atwood’s daughter, Suzie, is physically and intellectually challenged. She rides the proverbial “short bus” to school. And that is how Jeff refers to it, the Short Bus. But Suzie is getting older and will soon be in middle school. It was in middle school (or junior high as many of us knew it) that Jeff has some troubling memories of the Short Bus:

For a couple of wintertime months during seventh grade, me and a group of my friends would sit on the curb outside Pennwood Junior High School, waiting for the morning bell to ring. Some days, when we got there especially early and had nothing better to do, we would
just sit there on the cold curb, waiting for the “Short Bus” to pull up and drop off the special education students.
I am still not sure why this was such great entertainment, but even so we would just sit there, waiting for the “retards” to arrive. (“Retards” was my word then. I now realize the power of words like that.) Most of the time me and Mike Antonio and the Perry brothers and Terry Ricini would just point and laugh at the handful of kids as they would get off the “Short Bus.” On days when we were really pumped up, some of the guys would try to out do one another by calling them names. “Hey you retard…look over here…what’s the problem, you can’t walk or what?” It was a bonus if we could get a rise out of someone in the group. Seems like it was always Mikey Pulaski starting that talking part.
Sometimes, when the teacher’s aid or bus driver were looking the other way or maybe helping one of the kids down the wheelchair ramp, we would scoop up a crunchy snowball and just wing it across the parking lot at the short bus. Most of the time we didn’t have very good aim and if we were lucky the snowball would hit the side of the bus or maybe the sidewalk. Every now and then one of us, mostly Mike Antonio cause he was a baseball pitcher too, would get lucky and plunk one of the retards. One time Mikey hit one guy in the leg and then before the retard figured out what was going on Mikey busted him in the back too.
But one day, I was the king of the “curb-sitters.” It was the day I hit a “retard” smack up in the face with a snowball. I scooped up a handful of the nasty gray snow, smashed it into an icy rock and fired it across the parking lot. I can still see it now, flying through the sky, almost as if it was in super slow motion.
I heaved that snow bomb towards all those kids and just wished. Bam! Caught the kid in the green coat right in the face.

He goes onto say:

Ohh, how I hate the “R” word now.
I hate it in much the same way I would guess that those kids at my junior high school hated getting laughed at and pelted with snowballs.
I used to think that riding on the short bus was as a badge of dishonor or a label of imperfection. The bus, and the kids who rode that bus, were a never-ending supply of cheap laughs. I have come to know that the short bus really is the exact opposite of all those things that I thought before.

Go read the rest. See how something that is the butt of so many jokes means the world to those who are on it.

Shauna has a poignant post about her almost three-year-old daughter that had me laughing out loud, then by the end, blinking back tears.

Pea has somehow soared past 2.5 and entered into an age that I guess could be described as quarter ’til three. I’m not sure if this is the age where a girl is supposed to start running to her room and slamming the door when she gets mad at her mother, but I sort of hope it isn’t. Because I would like to say that she’s very advanced for her age.

The door slam thing has actually only happened two or three times. She usually expresses her distaste for me verbally, instead.

And what she says, is so very cute. Be sure to go and read the rest.

My son turned three back in November and it’s been a whirlwind of challenges and tears (his and mine) and frustrations and laughter, much laughter. It’s so hard to step back during this time in a child’s life and look at the big picture of who they are and what they are accomplishing. We get mired down in the day to day, in the tantrums and in the whining. And in the door slamming. Yes, there’s door slamming at my house, too! It’s good to take a moment and see beyond all that, to savor the innocence and revel in the world as seen through the eyes of a quarter ’til three year old.

A hearty congratulations to Patrick and Lydia of patrickandlydia.com! They became the proud parents of Adam Patrick Watts, born Sunday afternoon. In true blogger fashion, dad brought the laptop to the hospital and Baby Adam already has his first post up! That’s right, we indoctrinate them early around here.

Such a cutie!

H/T: Kat Coble, proud friend!

Aww! Daddies and little girls just make my heart melt. Here’s an example from Chez Bez:

I have this little song I sing to my daughter. It’s very short and it goes like this: “Her name is Arianna and I love her so much.”

I told you it was short.

Every once in a while, I shake it up and change the last part to “…and I love her 20%.” She always laughs and corrects me and it’s always big fun for us.

But, the little lady gets him back for his mix-up. Go see how the very things we say to our kids have a way of coming back and stinging us in the heart.

I’m TICKED (or at least I was).

My 9 year old happened to be watching the freaking ANIMAL PLANET channel this morning–at a little past 8 a.m. and saw this @#$%*& commercial. You can probably watch it on the front page of this site. But here’s the transcript of the advertisement:

“MUFFINHEAD”

:30

BOY 1: Mom, Dad, I know you don’t want to talk to me about sex.

GIRL 1: You think I’m too young.

BOY 2: You’re afraid if we talk about sex I’ll no longer be your little Muffinhead.

GIRL 2: Your Cuddlebug.

BOY 3: Your Butterbean.

BOY 4: Talk to me about sex.

GIRL 3: Tell me you want me to wait.

BOY 2: Sure it’ll change our relationship.

BOY 3: It’ll make us closer.

GIRL 2: Tell me to wait to have sex.

GIRL 3: And don’t worry.

BOY 2: I’ll always be your Muffinhead.

GIRL 1: Your Punkinface.

BOY 1: Your Pookie Bear.

LOGO: 4PARENTS.GOV

GIRL 2: Go ahead, tell your Schnookums how you feel.

Isn’t that cute?! Hahahahahahahaha . . . not. I’ll concede that the ad is well done, and the message is not a bad one. It’s probably good for parents to see that ad. But it is definitely not good for my child to see it. I don’t need the government setting the timetable for when I discuss this issue with my child. Have some freaking common sense, people!

I just know you’re going to be totally floored when I tell you which editor position I was chosen for. Hang onto to your hats, put down your beverage of choice, wait for it….Family & Parenting. I know! Whodathunkit? I was seriously expecting a nod toward the political editor position so this really took me by surprise. But hey, I love a challenge and I’m up to trying new things.

When I started blogging way back in 2005, I’d never heard the term “MommyBlogger” but that quickly changed as I started reading more and more blogs. Most of my favorites turned out to be authored by moms. And most of my posts were about my adventures in motherhood as well. So, I guess I know a little bit about this topic. But I want to assure you that all my posts here will not be about poop, breastfeeding, the latest in children’s fashion, preschool woes, & puke. Family has all sorts of definitions and many of you write eloquently and humorously and poignantly about your families. Whether you are a single person, married with no children, adult caregiver for aging parents or even a “MommyBlogger”, your family shapes your life and many times are prime blog fodder!

So, a little about me…I’m Malia, I blog over here with my husband, DB. We have two children and one dog. I hang out at the YMCA, Chick-Fil-A, Target and Kroger. We’ve lived in Nashville for about 10 1/2 years. It’s home now and I hope to stick around. The Schermerhorn Symphony Center is my favorite place in Nashville. I like chocolate, coffee and Coca-Cola. (That, my friends is good bribe info, remember it.) Though I’m told you don’t have to bribe me, you’re just supposed to e-mail “us” at that email address at the top right part of the webpage. Oh well, I tried. Did I mention I’m terribly sarcastic?

I leave you with a few quotes about family:

Home is where they have to let you in.

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.
George Burns (1896 - 1996)

If you ever start feeling like you have the goofiest, craziest, most dysfunctional family in the world, all you have to do is go to a state fair. Because five minutes at the fair, you’ll be going, ‘you know, we’re alright. We are dang near royalty.’
Jeff Foxworthy

A family is a unit composed not only of children but of men, women, an occasional animal, and the common cold.
Ogden Nash (1902 - 1971)

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
Anthony Brandt

[Title quote from: Giuseppe Mazzini (1805 - 1872)]

12 (11? 12?) year old SuperMousey writes:

She can’t come over most of the time, because she has to watch her five-year-old sister! Her parents are too lazy to watch her themselves! And when her dad’s home, her mom has to go get herself shut up in her frickin’ office, because that’s where she works! And even when her dad is home to watch her sister, AG STILL can’t come over, because she has to keep her sister busy, and happy. AG is NOT her sister’s mother! It’s not fair!

I think many oldest kids get stuck in this oldest-kid-as parent role. I don’t even know if it is laziness on the parents’ part, or what. I just know I feel sorry for oldest kids who feel responsible for their younger siblings. I have so been there, myself*.

*Not saying my parents made me feel like I had to be responsible for my younger brother; they did not, I felt that way on my own volition.