SmartMama

There are a lot of things I’m good at. Cooking isn’t one of them.

My baby boy is due in a month. Of course, I’m worrying about the little guy’s health, labor and delivery, and how I’m going to lose my baby weight. But I also can’t stop wondering how my daughter is going to adjust to sharing the spotlight.

Though Benny has a great vocabulary and has no difficulty expressing his needs and wants, I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever fully understand what he’s thinking.

I thought that once the video game was hooked up he’d be immediately engaged in some game for hours.

At first glance, you might think our dog, Jasper, isn’t the brightest pup of the litter.

My usually bubbly girl stared out the window as I drove up Interstate 83. Her frown spoke volumes. I knew she didn’t want to go to the dentist. She had made that clear in the days leading up to the visit.

My little guy, age 3, hadn’t played outside in what felt like weeks. Sure, the grass was soggy, and small piles of snow peppered the ground. But the sun was shining, and Benny was decked out in his new waterproof boots. So we went out to play.

Is it wrong that I threaten my son to be good or Santa won’t come?

The three-year age difference between my children is never more apparent than at the holidays.

Although I know I should send her back to her room, she looks so sweet with droopy eyes and disheveled hair. I can’t help but pull her into bed next to me.

My family’s a little particular about routines. Mom and Dad eat at the same restaurant every Sunday morning. They take a long walk along the same Hanover path. When it comes to holidays, our routines are even more defined.

What’s harder for a dad? Shopping for his daughter’s dress for homecoming? Or realizing that his little girl is growing up.

One of the worst things about the holiday season is making small talk at gatherings. How interesting can the weather, the economy and Balloon Boy be?

As someone who’s never been a fan of mornings, I know how hard it is to wake up. I also know what it’s like to be jostled awake, against my will, and forced to face the day.

“When I was a penguin,” Benny told me recently, after we read a book about penguins. “I had all my friends over to my home. And then a monster came. And then ....”

The arrival of a new baby is quite a motivator.

Six years ago, new motherhood hit me with waves of worry, joy, responsibility, love and more worry. Add to it the fact that we moved to a new home in Chambersburg — where we had no family and few friends —and I often felt like I was drowning.

See, I have lost the battle of cleaning my 5-year-old’s room. Well, actually I gave up. And I don’t give up easily. But it’s not my son’s fault. It’s because he has over-indulgent parents.