Monday, August 31, 2015
Thursday, August 20, 2015
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Growing up in a middle-class suburban neighborhood that was dominated by the Southern Baptist church at its center, I was hell-bent on fitting in. Yes, bad pun intended. Seriously, though, I desperately wanted to fit in, and my family didn't go to church, especially not the Southern Baptist kind. I was confirmed in a liberal United Methodist church in downtown Houston, far from my conservative suburban neighborhood. My Methodist confirmation classes had absolutely nothing to say about sex. Zero. It didn't occur to me that sex was in any way related to religion until I started going with one of my friends to the Southern Baptist church. That's where I learned that "True Love Waits."
Sunday, August 9, 2015
Wednesday, August 5, 2015
When James was two-and-a-half years old, I begged our minister to teach a class on non-violent communication (NVC) for parents. I hate the name of the communication style, even though I've discovered I admire its creator, Dr. Marshall Rosenberg, immensely. But a class on "non-violent communication" makes it sound like I'm going to rehab for beating my husband.
Monday, August 3, 2015
I have to say a word of thanks to my dear friend Francine, the Jewish mother I never had, for giving James Richard Scarry's Best Word Book Ever. I now get to read a gazillion words a night, from bulldozer to apple tree and everything in-between. Francine is probably cackling maniacally to herself as I write this, aware that she has passed on a warm, fuzzy tradition, as she's been stuck in my shoes during her own time as a parent of small children. How many times can we read all of the words on the "Work Machines" page, and how many pages can we get through in a night?