Slow Down, Read This ...

Every so often I read something that, as a parent, just slaps me in the face. The following article did just that. 

If I had a dollar for every time I say, “hurry up” to my boys, their college savings plans would be flush with cash! But I will say that I do now, try and take the time to stop and smell the flowers with my boys. Or, being that they are boys, stop and play with the ants or do armpit farts or climb on and jump off of everything they see. I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did.

The Day I Stopped Saying ‘Hurry Up’

By Rachel Macy Stafford, on her blog, Hands Free Mama.

When you’re living a distracted life, every minute must be accounted for. You feel like you must be checking something off the list, staring at a screen, or rushing off to the next destination. And no matter how many ways you divide your time and attention, no matter how many duties you try and multi-task, there’s never enough time in a day to ever catch up. 

That was my life for two frantic years. My thoughts and actions were controlled by electronic notifications, ring tones, and jam-packed agendas. And although every fiber of my inner drill sergeant wanted to be on time to every activity on my overcommitted schedule, I wasn’t.

Be sure to read the rest of her post here. 

Don't Hate on the Name

Admit it. When you heard that Kayne and Kim named their daughter North you thought, “North. Kind of cute.” Then you thought, “North West. Really?!”

I did, and I have vowed to NEVER question people’s baby names. Ever. Why, you ask? Let me tell you.

I have two boys named Harlan (Did you say Harley, like Davidson? Is it Harland, like rhymes with Garland) and Taylor (That’s a girl’s name.) I also have a nephew named Jhett, one named Jace, one named Byson and one named Slade. I also have two other nephews and a niece whose names are a little more mainstream – Aidan, Brady and Ava. They can all read so I wanted to mention them too because I also adore them and I don’t want them feel left out! 

My point is, I happen to love these off-the-beaten-path names, and love those five boys to death, but I’d be lying if I didn’t say that each named spurred a spirited conversation … or 50.

One such conversation almost ended in bloodshed. (Tip – don’t say something insensitive to a woman who is seven months pregnant on Thanksgiving when you’ve had two martinis and she hasn’t eaten.)

The lesson my extended family learned from all of these conversations – especially from the Thanksgiving Day near-massacre – is first, keep your freaking mouth shut. And second, a name is just a name. Kids define themselves in a million other ways. True, their name may be fodder for some teasing, but that will happen no matter what your name is. I would give you a great example from my husband – very innocuously named Jim Owens – but it was teenage boys who made up the name, so probably not appropriate for this venue.

So, name your kid Bob or name your kid Seven – he or she will be remembered more by what they do than by what they answer to!