Did you ever want to ground your kids but didn’t have the time to monitor their grounding? Here is the perfect way to make them responsible for their own discipline.
Last month, I was lucky enough to be invited to speak at the first ever WordPress-sponsored Press Publish conference in Portland, Oregon. While I was there, I met tons of awesome people, but the one who probably sticks out the most to me was a young woman named Anne who spoke to me after my presentation. She wanted me to know that she was born through surrogacy herself. She was curious to meet my kids, because she’d never met anyone else who was born through surrogacy.
She was a wonderful person — smart, polite, down-to-Earth, and we had a very nice chat. I promised to put her in touch with some people who might be able to help her find other people her age born through surrogacy, and she gave me her card.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about her, because I often wonder how my kids will feel…
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We returned from the hospital, our family, and immediately I shrugged the bags off my shoulder and set to work unpacking dirty clothes. I’ve always had this compulsion to unpack right away, always in a hurry to restore order. Then I turned to watch your mother. Unshowered, still exhausted from labor, she lifted you from the car seat into her arms. “This is our couch,” she whispered, walking softly. “This is our kitchen.”
You won’t comprehend any of this for months, you shriveled, squinting creature. You haven’t even learned to hold your eyes open. Yet Hannah paced the house, letting the familiar squeaks in the floor comfort herself, if not you. I stopped to watch–the laundry could wait. She showed you the nursery…
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They’re not my kids anymore, but they’ll always be mine.
True, I don’t see them day in, day out like I did the year that they were in my classroom. But there are still snatches of time during the day where we can reconnect–a quick conversation as we pass each other in the hall, first thing in the morning when my classroom has more former students than current students.
In my mind, they’re just slightly taller versions of the child I saw every day for ten months, maybe with a few more teeth and a different hairstyle. But then I’m reminded that they’ve been thrown into a whole new existence.
The testing world.
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I believe that nostalgia plays a big part in the bond we create with our children. In moving countries and continents I’ve eliminated the shared geography basis. In having boys, some further shared interests were crossed off the list. The nostalgia I felt toward the components of my own childhood has been stripped off of some essential ingredients, but the bond that this reduced form of nostalgia allows is all the more valuable for that reason precisely.
Shared childhood interests can be found in unexpected places.
Some things from your childhood are always relevant.
Other things grow in and out of favour.
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