Aug 192016

I happened upon a shorter version of this story in a comment this morning. I needed to read it today, and I also want to retell it.

Three years ago, Aaron and I were riding the elevator down from the beach condo at which we’d just had a vacation. It was the last elevator ride of the trip. It was time to drive home.



“Do you think I could have one more hug before you turn back into your cranky self?”

He wasn’t being cheeky with me. (Wow, I’d have certainly felt better if he was.) He was asking me a sincere question from his perspective.

Ask me how long I hugged him.

I don’t often outright lose my temper with the boys. I never say hateful things to them, or make unreasonable demands of them. But I once inadvertently trained my nine-year-old son to expect and accept my “cranky self” as part of the way life is. Oh, and guess what? He doesn’t like hugging my cranky self as much.

It’s hard to avoid being cranky once in a while. But I’m quite certain I don’t want a cranky self.

 Posted by at 1:43 pm
Aug 122016

Our sons are old enough now that I have to consider carefully how to blog about them. (Well, even more carefully.)

Some things are still easy. If they say funny things, they’re generally happy for me to share those, though most of those become Facebook statuses and not blog posts. But regular goings-on are more complex for them now. (Funny how that happens as you get older.)

I mean, Aaron was really mad at me when I took this photo of him, but he was also 2. I didn’t give his personal privacy any thought at all, and I don’t feel any differently about it more than nine years later. (While I’m sure there are those who would cluck their tongues at even that, I’m also sure they’re a small minority. Two-year-olds generally deal with unpleasantness with a meltdown. That’s not novel. I’m not embarrassing my 2-year-old showing him having one.)

But that kid’s 12 now. His brother will be 15 this fall. They’re beginning to have problems and experiences that much more closely resemble adult problems and experiences. They’re grappling with awkwardness—some manufactured, but some cruelly inflicted by puberty. Serving up some of the blow-by-blows they’re going through right now to my blog readership would be unkind.

And sometimes I do want to write about them, because they’re good stories. I may still, one day, for some of these things. The anecdotes will be 10 or 15 years old before I share them, though.

And I’ll still choose very carefully.

 Posted by at 7:58 pm
Aug 062016

I watched Walter get pulled over at the beginning of the Breaking Bad episode Caballo Sin Nombre tonight, and got to thinking about every time I’ve been stopped. If you’ve been dying for that information, you have just seriously lucked out. Stop one: In early 1987, I ran the stop sign that was then at […]

 Posted by at 10:20 pm
Jul 272016

You don’t have to read long to know that I’m not shy about discussing politics. Sometimes I don’t for a while, but mostly if I’m talking about politics at length anywhere, it’s here. (I weaken on Facebook once in a while, but mostly keep it light there.) We’re halfway through the second convention in […]

 Posted by at 11:34 am is using WP-Gravatar