Open letter to my son on the eve of his third birthday

Golly gee, look who's turning three! You are, my Little Green One, and I still can't quite believe it.

Three years into this Twain-esque sojourn into parenthood, and I can quite honestly and confidently say two things: It's never easy, and it's never dull. 

From the moment that tiny blue plus sign appeared on the litmus, you've brought out the best and worst in me -- from the rock-bottom lows of post-partum depression and colic, through the haze of sleepless nights and seemingly endless teething, tantruming and 'grining', to the exhilirating highs of first words, first steps, and all those unexpected little gifts you've sprung on me along the way. Every delirious kiss and nuzzle never ceases to make me feel like the luckiest woman alive.

From the moment that tiny blue plus sign appeared on the litmus, my life changed forever. Positive. A positive change -- no question. After 9 years spent deliberating, was I positive I wanted to do this parenting thing? Damn straight. It took a while for it to sink in that no one is ever really 'ready' to be a mom. You just do it. It is in the process of parenting that you become a parent.

Being your mother has made me delve deeper into myself, to do my best in spite of my inevitable imperfection. To go on giving even, at times, when it seems there is nothing left of me to give. In spite of everything I've read, before you came along, I never realized I could love so fiercely or heroically. And those revelations just keep on coming...

Like this morning over breakfast when you announced out of the clear blue sky, "Mommy is a really good woman". If I am, my darling, then it is because of you. And it is a privilege and an honour to watch you grow into the "really good man" I know you will one day become.

Shit my preschooler says

Kids see the world with such fresh innocent eyes. It’s no wonder that what comes out of their mouths often vacillates between sheer genius and pure comedy.

Forget P.B. Shelley; our kids are the real poets who don’t know it.

Forget Jim Carrey; our kids come out with the most cracking, side-splitting one-liners.

Their timing is impeccable, the delivery bang on, precisely because they aren’t trying to be funny. They just are...

LGO is no exception.

Click here to read some of the gems he's come up with recently.

The brown diaries -- the final installment

For those of you familiar with my blog, Little Green One, you know the road to toilet independence has been a long one, paved with no shortage of obstacles. After all, there were, I’m sorry to say, not one but a total of three installments – which is proof that when it came to to potty dance, this mom was going at it
all wrong.

Click here to read the full article, as featured at A Mother World.

Who are you and what have you done with my son?

I haven’t been watching Spielberg lately, but I swear some extraterrestrial has come in the night and taken away the Griner (my groan-meets-whining toddler) and replaced him with the most delightful almost-three-year-old you’re likely to meet. Or not. Or maybe his mom finally got a clue. Yes, that’s probably it. Finally.

Click here to read the full article, as featured at A Mother World.

What goes up doesn't necessarily come down

There’s a dangerous trend on the rise among preschoolers. Forget obesity for the time being. Forget bullying. I’m talking about noses. Or nostrils, more precisely. What possesses kids to stick things up their noses, anyway? It’s as though they wake up one day and say, ‘Hey, what are these strange holes doing on my face?’ The answer: to shove things up, obviously. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time…

Click here to read the full article, as featured at Oh Baby! Magazine.