So long, RVA!
What do you do when you’re an introverted lover of personal space who’s also a mother to an adorable but persistent little boy determined to spend most of his waking hours physically connected to you in some way? Write about it on the Internet, of course!
Sure, it’s got kind of a goofy name, but the manner in which we approach the “mom friend” role can mean the difference between kid-centered friendships to which we don’t give a second thought once we leave the playground and deeper relationships we can rely on during those darker parenting days.
In third grade Robbie McBurney made fun of my nose; I hated it from that moment on. So imagine my dismay when I realized my son was set to inherit the very feature that made me so self conscious that 20 years later I still remember the name of the kid that made fun of it.
Find out how Mr. Stingy, Mr. Sneezy, Little Miss Perfect, and the rest of the gang helped my three-year-old son shatter my heart into a million little pieces (in the best possible way, of course).
The Richmond Symphony kicked off the 2012-2013 season of their LolliPops series on Saturday with a production of Benjamin Britten’s The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra, and my three-year-old son JR and I were there to see it. I know: a three-year-old at the symphony. On purpose, even!
There’s a reason why everyone gets a copy of Dr. Seuss’s Oh, the Places You’ll Go when they graduate from high school; it says exactly what you need to hear when you’re entering a new phase of your life. Trust me. I know of what I speak.
There are three things you need to know about me: 1) Physical comedy gets me every time; 2) I live in awe of good parodists; and 3) I love a good poop joke. So naturally Theatre IV’s production of The Stinky Cheese Man And Other Fairly Stupid Tales was right up my alley. Oh, and my three-year-old son’s.
I’ve been singing to JR ever since he was a tiny, shrimp-like creature snuggled up in my belly. To give you a glimpse into our daily life, I thought I’d share some of our favorites here. Hopefully you’ll share some of your go-to songs, too.
My son slept through the night for the first time when he was six weeks old. At four months he was sleeping 12 hours straight. But before you hate me know this: I am getting mine now. And it suuuuuucks.
“Don’t worry, it will be a beautiful scar.” Those were some of the last words my doctor said to me before I underwent the emergency C-section that brought my son into the world. When I first saw where they opened me up, “beautiful” wasn’t the first word to come to mind. But it does now.
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