Mom in the Mirror

When I grow up I wanna be a...

When I was very young (4 or 5 years old), I knew that I wanted to be a writer. When I was a little older (5th or 6th grade) I decided to channel that writing into journalism. I got sidetracked for a few years in college and graduate school but eventually returned to journalism, where I've been happy ever since.

When Colter was very young, he wanted to be a train conductor. I never seriously considered that he would become one. Then, he fell in love with dinosaurs and wanted to be a paleontologist. This was an ambition that made his parents proud. Gary encouraged him by bringing home real dinosaur bones from work sites, and I bought him real tools and excavation equipment. He spent hours using it. I thought this one might stick. Until his kindergarten graduation, when his teachers announced that Colter aspired to be a mall owner! No more weekends at the mall for us!

For several years after that, he didn't really have a career in mind (he never wanted to be a firefighter or policeman or soldier). So I was surprised when he announced recently that he wants to be a video game developer. But I think he'd be a great one, with his imagination, math skills, and passion for electronics.

The truth is, as long as he's happy and helping others, it doesn't matter that much to me how he chooses to earn a living.

What do your kids want to do when they grow up?

Mr. Fix-It Jr.

In many ways Colter is a non-traditional boy. He loves stuffed animals, his Easy-Bake Oven and cats (he's afraid of dogs).

But when he's around ladders or power tools, the traditional male hormones start pumping.

Yesterday, he went to our new house with Gary and started some demolition. At dinner, Colter told me all about hammering the ceiling to locate a leak and opening a wall to reveal termite damage. Yum!

Today, it's back to school, fortunately. I wonder how old Colter will be before he wants to drop out and become his generation's Bob Vila.

Everything is worse in the dark

Have you ever noticed that problems seem more serious at night? That sicknesses seem more frightening at night? That the darkness amplifies every fear?

I was reminded of this over the weekend, when we lost power for eight hours because of Hurricane Jeanne.

Colter was fine during the day, playing games by himself or with us. But his 8-year-old independence turned into a little boy's anxiety when darkness set in.

He sat in my lap and said, "I'm scared" while holding on to a flashlight Gary gave him.

I found his full-body hug quite reassuring, because I'm not that comfortable in the dark myself.

Most nights we leave a light on in the bathroom and a light on in Colter's room, too. And if Gary is traveling, I leave most of the lights on in the house.

Are your kids afraid of the dark? Are you?

Related: Oooooh, scary!

The name in the middle

Naming a child isn't easy. But Colter has always loved his name, his full name, and announced it proudly to anyone who asked: Colter Lee Moos.

Ask him about its origins and he'll tell you that he's named for John Colter and for my grandpa Louis. But last week, as we were signing papers for our house, he refused to tell our realtor his middle name.

This refusal was especially baffling because she had just told us she had a pregnant friend who planned to name her son Colter at our realtor's suggestion. And our realtor had just told us that her own middle name is Lee.

Later that night, I asked Colter why he didn't want to share his middle name with her. He told me that someone at school teased him about it.

Sometimes I hate other kids.

Has your kid ever been teased about his or her name?

Editor's Note: This post was re-scheduled for publication Monday morning in case we don't have power.

It doesn't get any easier

I watched Colter sleeping Sunday morning while I frantically prepared for the sudden arrival of Hurricane Jeanne, and I thought, "It doesn't get any easier."

Sure, it's easier to get physically ready: We keep our important documents, pictures, videos in a waterproof tub on a closet shelf now; We keep a bin full of hurricane food ready, with water, flashlights, batteries, candles, and so on; I keep extra books and games tucked away in case we're housebound for a while (or worse, stuck away from home).

But it is no easier to protect my son from the fear and anxiety that surround this increasingly-common event, no easier than it was the first time, when we fled from Hurricane Charley and it found us anyway.

It is no easier to ignore the winds, the rain, the sense of doom that envelop us.

It is no easier to live with the knowledge that I can only do so much.

As I finish my preparations a few hours later, I watch Colter play with Legos (his comfort toy) and wonder.

What will he remember? What will he forget? What will remain?

Here we go again

When I went to sleep last night, my tummy was happily full (after fasting all day for Yom Kippur), my family was safe, and I was looking forward to a relaxing, rainy Sunday. This morning, that's all changed.

Hurricane Jeanne is now headed toward us in the Tampa Bay area and we're scrambling to secure stuff: paperwork for our new house, Colter's comforts (stuffed animals, Game Boy, Yu-gi-Oh cards), and mine (books, paper and pens, so I can read and write).

I'm trying to stay calm. I'm trying to remember that as quickly as things can change, some things are forever: God, my love for my family, their love for me.

What's constant in your life?

Post-Traumatic House Disorder

After months of looking, falling in love, falling out of love, offering, counter-offering, countering counter-offers and general misery, we actually closed on a house yesterday.

Time to celebrate, right?

Not exactly.

I think the stress of the experience finally got to us. While we should have been happy, Gary and I both found ourselves snapping at Colter, who seemed to be particularly annoying. Which makes perfect sense if you think about how incredibly tense we had been all day (it looked like they might not get out of house by closing), and how tense that must have made him. And yet, it felt so awful.

To help us recover, we ate a Marshall Field's Frango Mint Chocolate Cheesecake. Definitely a recipe for recovery.

It all started at the baby shower

Before he was even born, Colter was given a stuffed bunny. It was a sweet little rabbit with bells in its soft cotton toes. This was the first stuffed animal Colter clutched, chewed and couldn't be without.

As he grew a little older, he sunk his teeth into a multi-colored inchworm (we called it "inchy") that he played with during diaper changes. Then, it was Elmo. He had one at home and one at preschool because he couldn't sleep without it. After that, there was Pooh. And Boomer. And Blue Bear.

Colter is the only 8-year-old boy I know who still loves stuffed animals.

And I love him for it.

Even though he won't walk down the "girl" aisle in the toy store, he has no problem spending his allowance on stuffed animals (although these days, they're Pokemon characters).

I still remember the first stuffed animal I ever loved -- it was my sister's Snoopy. I also had a little lamb that played "Brahm's lullaby."

Some nights I still wish I had it.

What is your child's favorite stuffed animal?

What a sport

Colter said, "Good game" and shook my hand this morning, after I beat him in a rematch of "Spite and Malice."

You could see the effort on his face, and just before he shook my hand, you could see the effort in his whole body, as he abruptly pushed back from the table and said, "That's not fair! You always win!" The fact that he could recover enough to show good sportsmanship really impressed me. Especially because he is a competitor in a competitive family.

When Gary plays with Colter, he never lets him win. Any victory is truly deserved. I often will let Colter win, and was prepared to do so this morning to show what a good sport I could be, but the cards got away from me.

When Colter played team sports, he always kept score, even when his coach and team didn't. He's always aware of his classroom ranking, even though he doesn't officially receive one. And once or twice I've heard him compare the size of our house to his friends' houses.

In this morning's handshake, I saw a sign of optimism, a sign that perhaps the scale Colter uses to weigh his wins and losses will be balanced with compassion -- for himself and for others.

How competitive are your kids?

The long goodnight

Colter has never needed much sleep. He's always been late to bed, early to rise. When he was younger, I used to start putting him to bed at 8:30 p.m. With a little cuddling and a half-hour of reading, he was usually asleep by 9:15 or 9:30. Then, as he grew older, springing ahead and falling behind with the clock would create challenges. So, once he turned 8, I started putting him to bed at 9 p.m., and he was usually asleep by 9:30 or 9:45. Over the summer, we pushed it back. At first it seemed the later he went to bed, the more quickly he'd fall asleep. Not anymore. No matter what time we start the bedtime routine, it expands to include all of these activities in this order:

1. The last drink of juice


2. Brushing teeth


3. Changing into pajamas


4. Settling down


5. Cuddling & talking about the day


6. Settling down


7. Reading


8. Settling down


9. Drinking water


10. Settling down


11. Drinking water


12. Settling down


13. Going potty


14. Settling down


15. Sleeping

What's the bedtime routine in your house and how long does it last?