Shane Bolks's Blog, page 22

Write Your Crazy Wish List! ***

What crazy wishes do you have? I think that’s a little different from a bucket list. On a bucket list, you actually think that you might be able to do everything on it, right? You just need to get up the nerve, find the money, the time, etc.  But on a crazy wish list, there might be things you know you can’t do. Or will never do, for one reason or another.

So what’s the point of a crazy wish list?

Well, it’s to remind yourself that you have a vivid imagination that you’re ignoring 99% of the time. Yes, even we writers do that. We might imagine stories for our characters, but we stop imagining things for ourselves.

Now you’re probably asking: why should we bother remembering we have imaginations? We have bills to pay, for gosh sakes! And kids with issues, and job challenges and a host of other substantive realities with which we must deal. Sheesh!

We need to remember that we have imaginations because they buffer us against the slings and arrows, and they bring us joy–two very important functions. Plus, there’s another big thing our imaginations do for us, and you’ll find out at the end of the article what I’m talking about. This exercise leads up to it. So let’s get started!

I recommend you update your crazy wish list all the time! As in, get a white board, put it in the kitchen, and let it be a family crazy wish list! Read each other’s! Draw weird pictures around them. Laugh about them. And then, maybe…go after one of those crazy wishes! Or you can hide your own personal crazy wish list in a box and bury it in the garden and dig it up every once in a while to update it. Add a candy bar so that every time you open the box, you get a special surprise! Anything goes when it comes to your crazy wish list! You can even make a crazy wish list about how to do your crazy wish list!

If for some reason, you won’t do this, please at least encourage the kids in your life to try it. They won’t stop writing, I promise you. They can have as many crazy wishes as they want!

Here’s my crazy wish list for today. Don’t hold me to them–they might change tomorrow:

1) I want to be Captain Kirk’s woman in a Star Trek episode. They’d put that soft lens on me when the camera focuses on my face, and my hair would be woven in a beehive basket design, just like Nurse Chapel’s.

2) I wish Billy Joel were one of my best friends and he’d come over tonight for a big jam session. My sisters and I would sing harmony over his shoulder while he’s playing “Until the Night,” a very sexy song of his that hardly anyone knows!

3) I’d love to win a Rita! Or at least be nominated for one again!  Or is it the book that wins? And is nominated? I get confused about that, but either way, I’d be psyched!

4) I’d love for one of my books to hit the New York Times list. I mean literally. I’d like to throw it and watch it bounce off the newspaper. NOT.  (I’m the worst joke teller!). No, it would be really awesome to be on that list. But until I make it, I’m going to keep throwing my current books at it every Sunday.

5) I want one of my books made into a movie, and I’d be on set with all the stars, and we’d be best friends and go karaoking every night. Hopefully, George Clooney would be there, and I’d prank him really badly. He’s a master at pranking people, and I would catch him by surprise. He’d respect me so much, he’d ask me to marry him, and I’d have to tell him, “Sorry. I love my husband.” And then he’d give me his house on Lake Como in Italy just because he’s pining away for me so badly.

George’s House on Lake Como–I’m in the window, waving!

6) I wish all the homeless dogs and cats of the world would have people who loved them and took care of them.

7) I dearly wish every child would be cherished and well fed, and that when they shut their eyes at night, they felt safe and happy.

8) I wish cancer were cured.

9) I wish I could fly.

10) I wish I lived in a castle in Cornwall with my same family and pets and that I were a duchess who drove an emerald green Jaguar convertible and ate scones with clotted cream and gooseberry jam every day. What is a gooseberry? I have no idea. But it’s on my crazy wish list because it sounds so delightful and cozy, like something out of The Secret Garden. I can just hear Glinda the Good Witch saying this wish out loud in her tinkly-bell voice….

My castle in Cornwall–it’s vacant right now as I’m chillin’ on Lake Como.

So do you have the idea? Just writing down my crazy wishes has made me feel happier somehow. It buffers me against the hard times. It gives me a spark of joy. A lot of that joy comes from admitting what I want to do. When we were little, we weren’t afraid to tell the whole world what we wanted to do, were we? We could dream!

And now for that bonus thing our imagination does for us. It seems almost like a selfish, ridiculous thing for a responsible, hard-working adult to make a crazy wish list, but ironically, our imaginations, given free rein, always brings us back to community. We can’t help ourselves. We think about other people even when we’ve been given “permission” to indulge ourselves. That’s the magic of the crazy wish list. It reminds us that there are things that we need to work on–really big things that need solving on a global scale or smaller, more personal things in our own lives, our own circles. And if we get too caught up in our little routines, we can forget those things. I know I can’t cure cancer, but I can do my best to avoid the triggers. And I can pray for people I know who have it. I can maybe even go to the hospital and visit strangers who are sick with cancer. The crazy wish list reminds me that I’m alive, part of a big, wonderful world. It infuses me with the power that comes with recognizing this miraculous connection. I’m way bigger than any boring old to-do list!!! There is potential in me that I have yet to tap. There is good I have yet to do. 

Wonder Woman, watch out!

Thanks for reading my crazy wish list, and if anyone wants to share, I’d love to read yours!

*** Feel free to call it your “CWL,” as in, “Hey! have you written your CWL yet?” That’s what the really self-important among us call it to make ourselves look smart and special. It’s like the TPS report of OFFICE SPACE fame.

Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

The V-Card

I might be opening up a can of worms with this one, but it’s something that’s been bugging me a while. So a while back I ran across this gossip article featuring a handful of stars discussing when they lost their virginity – because frankly I’ll follow nearly any link on Twitter (but that’s a whole ‘nother blog). Okay so I found this blog bothersome. Not only is it disturbing for me to think of my own kids losing their virginity at the tender ages of 11 or 12, but I had to wonder if it wasn’t completely irresponsible for these stars to proclaim their ages.

My main concern is that these people are often looked up to, especially by our impressionable youth. So let’s say your son really digs Matthew Fox cause you know he was awesome in We Are Marshall, but your boy comes across the article where Matthew proclaims that he lost his v-card at 11. What is your son to think? I’m also bothered because why do we need to know these intimate personal details of movie stars. Granted I’m a total hollywood gossip junkie, I don’t think a day goes by that I don’t check People.com. Still some details seem too personal.

Perhaps I’m sensitive about some of this because of my girls’ pasts. I remember one day in particular while we were waiting outside of family court for one of the hearings regarding the parental rights – there were two other women sitting next to me on the bench and they were talking about their kids. They were on the other side of the court system (parents fighting to get their kids out of foster-care) and at some point one of them says that she had six kids and that she actually found out she was pregnant with her first when she was 11. I was heartbroken, for her, for her children. So I guess in part, I’m coming to this discussion from that angle.

In any case, my question for y’all is two-fold, do you think it’s irresponsible for famous people to declare such things to the media knowing that a child could take it to heart? Also, how early is too early? Both to lose your virginity and when to talk about such things to your children?

Guest Mom: Natalie J. Damschroder

Full Circle, from Child to Adult

Hi, everybody! Thank you so much for allowing me to be a guest with you this month!

The balancing act we writer-moms battle with creates a never-ending discussion in all corners of the writing world. We sometimes feel as if we’re giving short shrift to everything…our families, our jobs, our writing, and our homes. But how often do we get to hear the kids’ perspective?

I started writing shortly after I got married and finished my first book a few months after my first child, aka Number One, was born. She just turned 18 and is leaving for Emerson College in about two weeks, where she’ll major in Writing, Literature, and Publishing. I thought this was a great time to get some perspective on her childhood, so I asked her a few questions about growing up in a writing household.

She had so many great things to say* that I can only include a couple of them here. Look for the rest at Everybody Needs a Little Romance on August 23.

*Note: She said all this completely on her own, without solicitation or guidance! LOL

Do you remember anything about your mom being a writer when you were little, and how that affected you?

For such a good student I have an absolutely awful memory, so most of the specifics from when I was younger have long since vanished. I always credit the fact that my mom is a writer as the reason I had such an avid interest in writing from such a young age, despite the fact that I can’t remember much from that time period. I think it was mostly that when you’re little, everything your parents do is the coolest thing ever. We had these writing periods in my first and second grade classes, and I just wrote the heck out of everything. I absolutely loved it, and I think the fact that my mother was a writer allowed me to love it. Writing was something that would be automatically approved of. I didn’t have to worry about parental acceptance and could simply let myself foster that love for writing, even though it was subconscious at the time

I do remember sitting on a couch in my first or second grade classroom with my mom, listening while she talked about being a writer to my class. Mostly I felt awkward because I sat there doing nothing while my class just stared at the two of us, but I remember being slightly nervous. I thought my mom and her job were so cool, and I wanted my classmates to think they were cool too. And they did, or at least didn’t act like stereotypical jerk kids. If they had, I probably would have felt a sense of shame, but I didn’t. That feeling of awe never really did go away, though obviously it has manifested into something different now that I’m older.

Overall, what has it been like growing up with a mom who’s a writer?

I don’t know, like growing up with any other mom? A good mom isn’t really defined by her job. Those with high-power jobs, like doctor or lawyer or CEO, they can have a more difficult job because they’re away from home so often and can’t give as much attention to their kids. Judging by the next question, I think the implication is that writers face that same challenge. But I honestly believe that if my mom had been a doctor or a lawyer, my childhood would have been pretty similar when it comes to my mother. She’s caring and attentive and has far too large of a guilt complex, and no matter her job, she would have made sure to be there for us in the same way she’d actually been.

I can’t tell if I actually answered the question. It was normal, growing up with a mom who’s a writer. Only it was extra special because my mom’s success is tangible and evident and can be physically flaunted in front of my peers’ faces. Not that I’ve ever actually done that. Yet.

Do you wish she had spent less time at her computer and more with you?

I think the better question for my family is does she wish we had spent less time on the computer and more with her. I simply jest.

Honestly, I think the only person it really bothers is her. She expresses her guilt all the time about how she’s always working downstairs in her writer’s cave of an office, how she never makes dinner or all that other “mom” cr**. My sister and I couldn’t care less about that kind of thing. She was always there for us when we wanted to talk to her, dutifully taking as much as an hour’s break to listen to me chatter away about things that really had no true point. I know my sister and I both, me especially, kind of appreciate needing to become self-sufficient. I will not be one of those yuppies next year in college who lives off of Ramen noodles and doesn’t know how to do laundry. And for that, I thank her. Besides, she cooks often enough that we all have favorite meals that she makes, and it’s not like she’ll say no (usually) if we ask her to make something special.

So, no, I don’t think I wish she had spent less time at her computer. I think everything worked its way out in the end.

What’s the worst part of having a mom who’s a writer?

Being the daughter of someone who is exactly like me.

What’s the best part of having a mom who’s a writer?

Being the daughter of someone who is exactly like me.

I hope Number One’s thoughts can serve to ease some of your minds. We don’t have to be perfect. We don’t have to serve every need. The kids will grow up just fine.

And you’ll notice that she didn’t even mention a clean house!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie J. Damschroder is an award-winning author of contemporary and paranormal romance—Love with a Shot of Adrenaline. She sold her first book in 1999, and 2013 will see the publication of her 14th novel. She grew up in Massachusetts and loves the New England Patriots more than anything. (Except her family. And writing and reading. And popcorn.) When she’s not writing, revising, proofreading, or promoting her work, she does freelance editing and works part time as a chiropractic assistant. She and her husband have two daughters she’s dubbed “the anti-teenagers,” one of whom is also a novelist. (The other one prefers math. Smart kid. Practical.) You can learn more about her and her books at http://www.nataliedamschroder.com.

Natalie’s next release is Heavy Metal, book 2 in the Goddesses Rising series, available for pre-order now. Amazon | Barnes and Noble | Powell’s Books | iTunes/iBookstore | Goodreads Page

 

Guest Mom Kathy Altman: Unfinished Projects

You know how people watch Hoarders partly out of curiosity, partly from the delight they take in being horrified, and partly out of the need for assurance that someone out there has a worse problem than they do? Well, sit tight, folks, because if you’re not a finisher, I’m about to make you feel very, very good about all those barely-starteds and half-dones hanging around your house.

Besides all kinds of crafts and home repair endeavors, I’m also in the partial stage of weeding flowerbeds and hanging pictures and filing paperwork and cleaning out my car and learning Scrivener (a tool for writers) and unpuzzling thousand-piece puzzles. Why so many unfinished projects? I have a good excuse now—since I started writing seriously ten years ago, most of my spare time has been spent hunched over the laptop—but I didn’t have that excuse when I began most of the above. Yep, some of these projects are more than a decade old. So did I drop them out of boredom? Poor time management? Something shinier caught my eye? Loss of interest? Out of sight, out of mind? (Though it’s a bit of a stretch to apply that last one to the unpainted living room walls I look at every day.)

The sad thing is, there’s no hope for any of these projects. Every now and then I resolve to dedicate a few minutes each day to getting at least one of these done—even if it takes a year—but tearing myself away from my writing? Not easy. So…I suppose I just answered my own question. There was always something I wanted to do more than I wanted to cross stitch or scrapbook or organize closets or paint walls. The good news is, I’m not going to find anything I love more than writing, so the only DIY projects in my future will be stories, and I’ve actually managed to finish a few of those. Seven books so far, though the first five attempts are different degrees of unreadable. And never mind that I fantasized about writing a book for two decades before I managed it. Yet I did finish, which helps ease that nagging sting I feel whenever I think of all I’ve left unfinished. Then again, there are some half-dones I don’t mind contemplating at all. Like that half bottle of pinot noir on the counter. And that half a cheesecake in the freezer. And then there’s that delicious romantic thriller I’m only halfway through…

Still. I am tired of looking at those walls. Think the cheesecake and wine is enough to lure Glinda to my place?

Kathy Altman writes contemporary romance, romantic suspense and the occasional ode to chocolate. She’s published by Harlequin Superromance, and contributes to USA Today’s “Happy Ever After” blog. When she’s not writing, reading or putting in her forty hours a week as a computer programmer for the Air Force, she enjoys baking, watching the Ciarán Hinds version of Persuasion and making other people feel superior by letting them win at Scrabble.

 

 

Have You Asked Him?

I loved Ellie’s piece of marriage advice the other day with the mango. It was a very strong visual, and certainly true. Love is a beautiful thing, but handled carelessly, it is something that can be destroyed.

I think neglect falls under careless handling.

There are the immediate types of neglect that spring to mind. Not enough time spent together without kids hanging off of you. (BOY do I know that one.) And not enough sex. I think I’ve harped on sex on this blog before because I DO think it’s really important.

It’s an act you ONLY share with your spouse. A significant part of your relationship, and human interaction that you share with no one else. It’s something that sets your relationship with your husband/wife apart from all other relationships. So yeah, important.

There are other types of neglect though. And a big one I see is the neglect of communication. This came to mind for me when I was talking to a friend about something she views as a shortcoming of her husband’s. She said she’d tried so many things to get him to be more verbal in his praise of her looks. From dressing differently, to dressing up when he comes home from work, to not putting in effort at all. And it hadn’t worked.

The one thing I could think of to say was: Have you told him?

This was a sticking point for me in my marriage for a long time. No, I don’t WANT to have to tell my husband: I want flowers on my birthday. OR, I want you to tell me I’m beautiful. But here’s the thing, if we don’t lay out our expectations for our significant other, how can they realistically meet them?

I get that in our minds, some of these things should be no-brainers…but they clearly aren’t. Because if my husband KNEW he would upset me by NOT buying a card on my birthday, or that he could fix everything by simply putting in that extra effort…well, he’d buy the darn card.

I spent the first few years of my marriage in willful stubbornness. Thinking, if I have to ask for these things to get them, then they don’t mean as much. I shouldn’t have to ask.

*sighs heavily at past Maisey*

One time I actually said that to my husband: I want you to do x, but I don’t want to have to ask you to do x, because that ruins it. Because then you didn’t think of it.

Then I heard myself say it. And heard how…silly that sounded. I was expecting him to read my mind, then punishing us both when he didn’t.

It was such a funny argument I actually ended up writing it into a book. (shameless plug…this is from The Inherited Bride.)

“I don’t know that I have you figured out.”

It was such an honest, frustrated admission, one that shocked her. “I can’t wear Hassan’s ring,” she blurted. 

“You don’t like it?” 

“It’s a beautiful ring. It’s not my style, but it is beautiful. But I can’t wear it because I’m not marrying Hassan. It’s linked to him, not to you, and as long as I wear it I feel…I feel like I’m still engaged to him.” 

“Why couldn’t you just say that?” He sounded even more exasperated now.

“Because if I say it, it doesn’t mean as much as if you just…figure it out.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“It isn’t,” she insisted. “It’s like having to ask for flowers.”

“Which isn’t good either.” 

“No. You want the other person to think of it, otherwise it has no meaning.” 

They were getting close to the rigs now, the sound filling the air, overpowering the sound of the car’s motor, the scent of the crude coming through the air vents. The road they were on wound around the rigs, taking them behind the mountains, which did a good job of absorbing the bulk of the noise. 

“Life would be simpler if you would just ask for things,” he muttered.

“That’s very male of you,” she said stiffly.

I present it as an example, because it was an Aha moment for me in my real life. Having to write out both sides of the argument made me understand. Yes, I still get the frustration of having to ask, but in that moment I had to understand my hero’s frustration…and the fact that my heroine’s stubbornness had complicated things needlessly.

There are all different kinds of neglect. Big kinds, and then little kinds. Like the kinds where you neglect to communicate something small and simple, that turns into a small wound. Then turns into a little grain of sand being rubbed against a wound, until it festers and gets infected, and turns into a huge problem. Until not telling your husband you need him to tell you you’re beautiful, turns into hurt and a feeling of total neglect coming from him. Until it turns into: you don’t think I’m beautiful.

If there’s something that’s been bothering you, I’ll pose this question: have you told him?

If there’s something you want that isn’t being given, have you asked him?

It won’t solve everything. It takes a long time for someone to change a pattern of behavior, if it is a pattern, and it won’t change overnight. Or rather, maybe it will, but then he’ll backslide.  (I will say, I got a dozen roses, chocolate and a card proclaiming I was my husband’s lobster on our anniversary. He has learned well, but he did have to learn!) But if he wants to change, if he wants to fix things, then maybe he just needs some help being told HOW. If he doesn’t…that’s a different problem entirely, and for another post!

And then comes the hard part. The asking, what can I do? Where am I falling short for you? (I hate asking that question! Because then I have to listen to the answer!!)

I guess the bottom line of my post is this: Don’t forget to talk. Don’t be too prideful to ask for things. Or to ask what you can do to make things better to.

Like a Mango, baby

Way back when, in the months before my husband and I got married, we went through Pre Cana. It was required by the Church to make sure we were both prepared for the sacrament of marriage. I don’t remember lots about the process, mostly that we found it a bit odd to be receiving relationship advice from a priest. There was a curriculum, I think, and some surveys/questionnaires to assess our compatibility, maturity, etc. I’m pretty sure we talked about welcoming children into our lives, and the sanctity of commitment. What the vows we were going to take really meant. That falling in love was only the beginning, the easy part. That the real challenge lay down the road, with what came next.  

That’s when things got interesting.

In doling out his advice, I remember the priest–not his name or even his face, whether he was old or young–leaning closer and lowering his voice as he looked at my then fiance. They were the signals that he was about to say something very important. “I’m going to tell you the secret,” he confirmed my suspicions by saying. “I’m going to tell you the secret to having a happy marriage, being a good husband, and keeping the love alive in your wife’s heart.”

Yeah, he totally had my attention.

“This,” he says,  never breaking eye contact as he lowers his arm to a small brown bag beside him and pulls out…

Yes. That’s right. Our pre cana priest pulled out a mango.

Okay.

But he had us, you know? He totally had our attention. He’d just promised the secret to a happy marriage…and pulled out a mango. “Do you know why?” he asks.

Um…no. 1+1 was not equaling 2, at least not in our book.

We shook our heads, which I’m pretty sure he was expecting, because he leaned back and smiled, lapsing into more of a kindly uncle voice, than a chaste priest. “What do you know about mangoes?”

Well, you know, the first thing that comes to MY mind is that they’re juicy. BUT that hardly seemed appropriate. So I opted for that demure female thing and held quiet, curious what my husband-to-be my say.

“Um…they taste good?”

OMG. Yeah. Right. That was SUCH a better (more tasteful, dare I say?) thing to say.

Except, clearly, Counselor Priest was expecting such an answer. His smile grew. “Yes,” he says. “But tell me how. Tell me how a mango tastes.”

That was easy.  “Sweet.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “Sweet and juicy.”

Okay, truth be told, that made me squirm. Maybe it’s just the fact that I was twenty-four and the quick trip to the gutter was instantaneous…and, well, that this was a priest, not the gang at the office.

Now the priest’s expression transforms from jolly uncle to sage elder. “But what happens when...” He lifts the mango and… “you drop it?” And he did.

I think we both gasped. There was that beautiful piece of fruit slamming down against the tile or linoleum or whatever it was.

Before we could answer, he picked it back up.  ”For all its sweetness,” he says, “it is also easily bruised.”

Except it was a lot more than a bruise. It was smashed, split open, and oozing.

“And that is where the secret comes in,” he went on. “What you must always remember. This woman who will one day soon be your wife…she is like this mango, so sweet and juicy you want to reach for her as often as you can, but if you hold on too tight or not tightly enough, she is also easily bruised. Without even trying, without even wanting to, you can hurt her…break her. “

Being young and a bit silly, I remember sitting there not quite able to get past the priest/juicy mango thing. But all these years (21!) later, that’s the one part of Pre Cana that I remember, so clearly the priest knew what he was doing. And his message was spot-on, too. Put the whole mango analogy thing aside, and what he was saying was this: Handle with care. And truly, if you want to get down to one piece of advice to fuel a marriage–or any relationships–it’s that. Handle with care. Be gentle with each other. Remember to treat those that you love, your spouse, your children, your friends, like you LIKE them. That you’re on the same team. That you want the best for them.  Do that, and not only do you not damage them, but all the other stuff kinda falls magically into place.

Like a mango, baby

The Poop Song–Yes, I Really Said That!

My 15-year-old saw this the other day and thought it was hilarious. I laughed, too–especially at the sublime tone of the announcer at the beginning–and then I said, “Wait! This will work at Peanut Butter on the Keyboard!” So here it is. I think it’s really cute and perfect for little people to watch if they feel nervous about potty training. Enjoy!

If you have any other links to great potty training videos or articles, please feel free to leave them in a comment. Or if you have a helpful tip to offer yourself, we’re all ears!

Hugs, Kieran

Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 24 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job. My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a senior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college junior; and my youngest, Dragon, is in tenth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy. www.kierankramerbooks.com

Miscarriage Cards

Yesterday I was in Target buying a sympathy card for a friend of mine whose mother passed away. I did a double take when I saw this.

I wonder if this is new. I don’t think they had miscarriage sympathy cards when I had mine in 2008. I know Robyn DeHart sent me a nice card (which I still have), but I don’t think it was for miscarriage specifically.

I couldn’t resist picking the card up and reading it.

And here’s the inside.

 

What do you think? I think it’s a great step in the right direction.

 

Play Dates

Am I the only mom to have looked forward to the day my little one was old enough for a play date and then been totally let down? As the mom of an only child, I feel like I have to make sure to seek out opportunities for my daughter to play with other kids. She’s been going on playdates accompanied by me since she was almost 3. Now that she’s almost 4, she’s ready to go without me. And her friends can come over without their moms.

I knew I’d still have to stick close by in order to mediate disputes, make sure no one got hurt, and so on, but finally I’d have some time to fold laundry and start dinner while Baby Galen was happily engaged as well. I think I imagined something like this.

 

The kids would be happily engaged while I was busy as well.

Are you laughing yet?

What I learned was that while almost four-year-olds do want to play with friends, they still want direction. They still want mommy right next to them. I folded one shirt before I heard, “Mommy!” and I never made it back to the laundry pile again. And I sort of didn’t even mind because watching my daughter play with other kids shows me an entirely different side of her. I realized she isn’t always bossy and will go along with others’ ideas. I also realized she has some really fun imaginative play ideas. And…we still need to work on sharing.

Have you ever seen someone you know well in a different situation and been surprised by their behavior?

Shana Galen, Multitasker Mama

I’m Shana Galen, AKA Multitasker Mama (and aren’t we all?). I’m a wife, mom to a three-year-old daughter I call Baby Galen. My parenting motto is, “Keep moving. Don’t pass out. Don’t throw up.” Or maybe that’s my fitness motto? www.shanagalen.com

The end of the “terrible twos”

Today my Babybee turns 3! So with that in mind, I shall share one of my favorite video series on YouTube. If you haven’t watched, prepare for some chuckles…