All posts tagged: growth

Blessings, Not Curses

I never did muse about the “terrible twos,” that phrase I loathe as much as the warning, “just wait until she’s a teenager.” I happen to love teenagers. And I wasn’t so bad. (Right, Mom and Dad?) And who’s to say that my daughter will end up like the worst teenager you ever strived to avoid? No. We ought to speak blessings, not curses, over the lives of others. Sometimes, negative phrases are shared with well-calculated intent, but often they fly out of our mouths mindlessly. We say them because society generally accepts them as truth. Most healthy two-year-olds happily explore life on a day-to-day basis only to discover boundaries. Boundaries tend to infuriate the folks who do not expect them. Tantrums happen. It’s an emotional time of growth. (Oh, but bless the gift of growth!) We coin “terrible twos” to make light of an otherwise unsettling phase. Such phrases, when applied too liberally, take root. The negative nature of such phrases sprout ugly lies. These lies wheedle through our “comedic” attempts and make unsettling …

Humble Pie at the Playskool Kitchen

One dog forgets his size while the other requires an escort to the backyard. Rufus and Scout. Amplifiers of chaos. Two extra children to raise. When all hell breaks loose, Rufus and Scout are the first to get the boot. “Scout! Kennel! Go!” He’s too swift to spank; I tap him on the butt with the toe of my tennis shoe. He runs in the opposite direction. Hides under the dining room table. Freezes in the shadows until I finally get close enough to scoop him up and just carry him to his kennel. He’s gone in a flash. I give up. “Fine,” I say. “Stay out. Whatever.” You’re small enough to not frighten anyone, though your yap is obnoxious. Rufus at my feet – and legs and hips – turns in the hallway like a yellow school bus stuck on a one-lane country road. “Rufus, move!” When he, like a horse at the stall door, is on the other side of the baby gate, I can finally open the door to greet whomever. Or …

A 2018 Ode to 2017 Habits

I wish I read quickly. I counted thirty-five unread books on my make-shift bookshelf – thirty-seven, if I count the recently purchased Petty: The Biography and The Complete Handbook of Novel Writing. The unread books range from The Last Battle of the Chronicles of Narnia series to Bob Dylan’s Chronicles: Volume 1, from my borrowed copy of Wild to On the Road. Why did I read the entire Narnia series save for the last novel? Maybe tales beyond the page beckoned by the time I completed The Silver Chair. Goodness; did I even complete The Silver Chair? Maybe I have yet to read Chronicles because I did attempt Bob Dylan’s Tarantula once. Fear keeps me from Wild. I still mourn the loss of Chris McCandless; can I bear to read more of the losses of strangers who seem eerily familial? I bought On the Road for my novel course at the University of Montana. The course demanded we read one novel a week. The only novel I completed that semester was Cold Mountain, and that took well over …