Category Archives: babies

Getting To Know You

Dylan sometimes (okay, often) says to me, “Mommy, you need to have more patience in the bathroom.” He’s right. The bathroom is the scene of some of my worst parenting moments (that is, besides the car). Simply put, the bathroom is my tipping point. They either take too long, talk too loud, touch everything, or all of the above, and, frankly, it’s excruciating.

Recently, in the middle of a friendly debate with him over my “alleged” swimming skills, I said, “I do too know how to dive!” His response was swift and startlingly clever. “Mommy, you don’t even like to get your hair wet.” He was right again. For the record, I do know how to dive, although I can’t remember the last time I did.

He’s almost eight, and he knows me.

One night not too long ago in the bathroom, Riley said to me, “Mommy, did you have coffee today?”

“Yes,” I said confused because it was nighttime and I drink coffee in the morning. “Why?”

“Because you’re grumpy, and you always tell us you get grumpy when you can’t have coffee.”

I was grumpy that night in the bathroom, but in my defense: (1) it was way past bedtime, (2) tooth brushing wasn’t going very well, (3) we were in the bathroom, and (4) I had just discovered that the puppy pooped on the floor in my bedroom.

Still, he was right.  He’s only five, but he knows me, too.

Although the coffee remark stopped me in my tracks, it wasn’t because it made me feel guilty (okay, maybe a little bit). Rather, it was because it brought on a terrifying vision of a teenaged version of Riley rolling his eyes at me and saying, “Mom, are you on your period or something?” It’s true that I almost always cry 48-72 hours before I get it, so it’s quite possible that he and his brother will eventually know the ins and outs of my menstrual cycle as well as they know that I’m irritable when I haven’t had coffee and/or it’s after 7pm and/or I’m in a bathroom with either one of them.

They already know me quite a bit. They know I like owls and yellow roses and “So You Think You Can Dance.” They know I like to run and write stories about being a mommy. They know I pour a glass of wine when it’s five o’clock or time for math homework (whichever comes first). They know I don’t like loud voices or music in the car and it hurts my ears when the car windows are open. They know I don’t like to get my hair wet in the pool, idle in public bathrooms, or buy toy-junk at the grocery store. They know I can’t stand puzzles or Lego kits with missing pieces. They know I absolutely hate to be late. They probably know I’m particular (i.e. obsessive compulsive) about loading the dishwasher, I can’t stand it if someone pulls on my shirt or sweater, and no matter how hard I try, I have zero interest in video games. They most likely know when I’m aggravated at their Daddy, when I’ve had one glass of wine too many, and when I feel fat. Perhaps they know when I’m sad. They most certainly know when I’m proud or happy, but also when I’m disappointed, anxious, or scared.

They’re getting to know all of me. Not just the mommy me but the human me. They’re soaking in my quirks and imperfections as we grow this extraordinary and complicated relationship together, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, but I guess it’s only fair, because, oh boy, I know them, too.


Filed under aha moment, babies, bathroom, boys, motherhood, parenting

It’s A Girl!

No, I’m not pregnant.  If you thought so, you’re either nuts or a new reader.  If it’s the latter, welcome to The Runaway Mama!  Where two kids are plenty!

I’m not having a baby, but I am a New Mama!  Introducing Gertrude Glenn (a.k.a. Gertie)!






Gertrude was my girl name.  You know, the name I would’ve given a human girl.  I know what you’re thinking.  GERTRUDE?  It’s a grandmother’s name!  It’s dated!  It’s dreary!  For your information, I also love the name Agnes, and before we decided on Dylan, Oscar and Henry were on our short list for boys.  So there.  I’m an old-fashioned name kind of girl.  (Somehow, I ended up with a Dylan and a Riley – which I love, by the way – but such is life!)

As well as being classic and beautiful (if I do say so myself), Gertrude is also a family name (on both sides of the family), and Glenn is after my Great Aunt Glenna, a firecracker of a woman whose style, whit, sharp-tongue, and big heart I admired greatly.


Gertie Glenn is teen-tiny bundle of deliciousness (and a peeing pooping mess!), and it was totally and completely love at first sight for the whole family.  Before we met her, I feared her presence would be a painful reminder of Harry.  I’m happy to report that it’s been just the opposite.  In fact, it feels a lot like Gertie was a gift from Harry.

I see so much of him in her.  Like when she twitches her front legs in her sleep or tries to drag a palm frond three time her size across the yard or chews grass with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.  In these moments, I feel like Harry is talking to me, and I’m a Grateful Mama for the connection.

Whereas my theme song was  “Say Something” by A Great Big World

Say something, I’m giving up on you

I’ll be the one, if you want me to

Anywhere I would’ve followed you

Say something, I’m giving up on you

…it’s now “You’ll Be Okay” by the same band…

You’ll be okay

You’ll be okay

The sun will rise

To better days


And change will come

It’s on its way

Just close your eyes

And let it rain


‘Cause you’re never alone

I will always be there

You just carry on

You will understand

After one full day with Gertrude Glenn a.k.a. Gertie Glenn a.k.a Flirty Gertie a.k.a. Gertie McShmertie, I’ve developed a highly complicated, uber-complex hypothesis about parenting human and canine babies: There’s little difference between the two.

Case in point, the following happened (or didn’t happen) during my first 24 hours with Gertie:

1. I forgot to eat.

2. I felt guilty.

3. I cried.

4. I accomplished one half of one task on my 50-item to do list.

5. I did the one half of one task during naptime.

6. I cleaned pee and poop all day.

7. I talked about pee and poop all day.

8. Because of the aforementioned pee and poop, I did a lot of laundry.

9. Exhaustion-induced clumsiness resulted in several bumps and bruises, including a doozy on my left leg that happened when I moved “baby equipment” (the crate) from the kitchen to the bathroom where…

10. I finally took a shower at 4:30pm.

Five o’clock has new meaning, my friends.  All over again.  And just like with human babies, this too shall pass.

A toast to New Mamas of all kinds!  Cheers!


Filed under babies, Grateful Mama, guilt, Harry, list, motherhood, pets