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Growing up...

Looking Back, and Looking Forward

So, here we are, the tail end of another year. I got older, my kids got older, and bigger, and stranger. My big boy uses deodorant now (I’m not embarrassing him by saying this, he was excited to hear that he’d reached this milestone.) Meanwhile my little boy (oops — I promised him I wouldn’t say little anymore, even though truth be told my 8-year-old is really the size of an average 6-year-old) has decided to grow his hair. Curiously, this makes my boy look even more like I did at that same age, with his pointy chin, jutting shoulder …Keep Reading

Hurricane Sandy and E.B. White brought my sons and me a little bit closer together this week.

What Superstorm Sandy Taught Me About Parenting (That I Already Knew But a Reminder’s Always Nice)

When I was a young kid — surprise! — I was a big reader. I could read any time, anywhere, and I can’t recall a single moment of my childhood in which I was bored. Unlike my sister who was prone to carsickness, I could read in the car, so even a relatively short trip (say, the 45 minute drive to my grandparents’ homes) passed in a flash. I could read upside down, I could read sitting hunched on the floor until my butt fell asleep. After a while, trips  to the library were utilitarian: My mom would drop me …Keep Reading

A perfect shot of a perfect evening.

The Magic Beach. Some Thoughts on Life and Love.

That photograph, above? It’s the best picture I took this summer. When I downloaded the photos I took during our three-day trip out East on Long Island in late August, I literally gasped when I saw this one. I’m usually a pretty crap photographer, and of course this is the beach at sunset, which is basically a gift to bad photographers, but isn’t it pretty? You weren’t there, of course, so I have to tell you why else it’s perfect, other than its beach-y/sunset-y composition. It was a perfect evening, and this shot, which is of my son James and …Keep Reading

Here we are, two years ago. Note the pout on the little mister!

Uncomfortable? That’s Life, Kiddo. (Or, Why I’m Not Raising Professional Victims)

I don’t mind if my kids are uncomfortable. No, seriously. Of course, when they were babies and had dirty diapers and empty bellies, I dispatched those discomforts (those are the easy ones). But these days? If my sons find themselves in situations where they have to suck it up, wait, make do, play second fiddle, or just plain-old not get what they want when they want it (or at all), I sit back and watch rather than scramble to fix it. And that even goes for times the situation is pretty obviously unfair. (Because who promised fair? Not me, that’s …Keep Reading