Category Archives: Parenting

Magma. No, not the lava underground stuff.


So, I have this grand baby, right?  He’s so super adorable and cute, but I didn’t want to be called “grandma”.  That is my mom, you know?  And since she’s going to be with us for a long time yet, I don’t want to steal her name.

So my daughter has been calling me (among other things, Abuela being one) Maternal Grandmother.  Ma (maternal) G-ma (grandma).  So Magma.  Stupid?  A little.  But it might be perfect.

I’ll let you all know if this sticks.



No Challenge today.


Kind of happy about that.  Overall, I’m feeling a little down today.  I’m not sure why.  I think that my husband and I aren’t on the same page necessarily about some things, and while that isn’t all bad, trying to live in a way that honors him by letting him have the last word on certain issues is dragging me down a bit.

I’m all for equal pay, voting, all that, but I think in the family unit, the man should be in control of major decisions.  I hear about (and see, at times) women that walk all over their husbands, not letting them have a say, arguing about everything.  What’s wrong with swallowing your pride (as long as it’s not every day about every thing) once in awhile?  If nothing else, it gives both parties time to think.

I can be pretty manipulative at times.  Can all of us in one way or another?  I don’t want to manipulate my husband to get my own way.  I’m not above that on small matters (Hey, never said I was perfect), but with big things, we should be equal.  We should discuss, agree, etc, and maintain a united front in front of the kids.

And, in big decisions, I should allow his word to stand.  Believe me, that doesn’t happen often where he needs to do that.  Most days are pretty mellow, and I’m not sure if I should try to talk him around this time.  I think I need to settle, consider, and pray about the decisions we’re making now, and be united.  I can’t help but wonder if he’s being impulsive in his decision making, without having thought through all the variables, or if I am flat out wrong.  I don’t feel wrong, but I might be.  I think we need to find the middle ground.

We’ll go for a walk later and talk. I hope we make a compromise we can both happily with.

I will defer to his final decision, though.




Otherwise known in one definition as a bitter feeling.

Today I had said bitter feeling towards a family member regarding a promise I made and had to renege on for a few different reasons.  However, I was called out as a liar and basically a horrible person, even after my explanation.

There is no forgiveness from a young teenager.  I hope one day she understands why I had to go back on my promise, and that there are more important things than the rather stupid thing we fought about today.

A thousand or more people died today in an earthquake in Nepal.  Many more injured with much property damage in a severe hailstorm in Australia.

There’s worse things than having vitriol over what happened today.  When will she grow enough to have a slightly more adult understanding of the world?  When everything is not all black and white, the world does not revolve around her, and she might understand that her words can hurt.

Of course, there are fully grown adults who say careless and hurtful things as well, without distress or apology after.  An apology is a powerful thing in my world.  I hope my daughter, at least, will understand that some day and take that power with her into an adult world.

Today is not that day.  But, you know what?  She is my child, and I love her with all my heart.


The B-word and Babies after 40


At work today:

Me:  I’m doing this blog thing where I use different letter every day to inspire my posts, and today is B.

Co-Worker:  That’s cool.

Me: (realizing that I’m not going to receive any inspiration from her) Well, I’m sure something will come to me.

I sat there at my desk, waiting for our next client to arrive, thinking of B-words.  Balloons?  No.  Babies?  No.  Batons?  No.  Bread?  No.  Nothing tickled my interest as I waited for the all powerful muse to strike with the answer to the B-word question.  I fiddled with my paperwork, and then got up to stretch for a minute.  “I don’t know why I’m thinking about this so hard.  I’m sure the B-word will come and slap me upside the face when I least expect it.”

Then I heard it how it sounded out loud.

Anyway.  Then we got onto the topic of babies born to older women.  I’m 41, and I can’t imagine starting over at this point.  The thought of going through another pregnancy when I have a grandchild on the way is both disturbing and repugnant to me.  I can’t even fathom how I would feel, being this much older and starting again.  Not to mention that I’d be 60 when that child graduates.

That being said, I’m out of the gene pool, and would take an act of God for me to get pregnant again.  This is not something I need to worry about.  I know moms who had babies at an older age.  I’m not judging them at all.  I just know that, in my own personal worldview, I wouldn’t want to do it.  If it, by some miracle, happened, then I would have a child again.  A child with a nephew older than he or she.  I already put in my time with the sleepless nights and diapers and crying.  I’ve already screwed up my kids in my own unique way.

Now it’s their turn.

If that makes me a B-word, so be it.


The Bubble


Have you ever had a moment in your life, one that is just shocking, disturbing, angry, but offset with a seed of hope and love?

Like living in a bubble on the bottom of the ocean, the inside is so smooth and cool to the touch, with beautiful opalescent colors whirling gently about the surface in a gentle ritual. Like the knowledge that the bubble, if popped, will send down tons of pressure per square inch and squash whatever remains in its path after the bubble is gone.

These moments of great intense emotion come so rarely in this life, a part of me just wants to grab it and hold on, but really, it’s not my life, it’s not my choice, it’s not my decision, and I don’t want to be the ocean to her bubble. But I will help her gently to the surface, I will shoo away whatever sharks come her way, and I’ll be there until she’s ready to stand on her own, and then gently and softly, I’ll back away and give her independence.

Like an ocean wave retreating back into the sea, leaving only a smooth bit of sand to mark its passage.

This may be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.