Mrs. Needle Writes

As a literacy specialist, I know the importance of reading to my daughter every day. Sometimes that looks like her pulling all her books off the shelf and throwing them onto the floor, and me picking one up and reading it aloud (to myself) as she runs off to do something else. Sometimes that looks like her cuddling up on my lap and making me reread the same book four times (right now, the obsession is her Obama book).  Last night, she pulled down one of her books, pointed to the cover, and said, "mama." It was actually one of my old books that someone gave to me as a birthday gift when I was three (they wrote a note on the inside cover). And that book was Cinderella.  Now, the question is, does she think I'm Cinderella because she's seen me talking to animals, because she's seen me sweep under her high chair every night, or because I'm in desperate need of a wardrobe update?

If I could send a letter to new mom Alex, this is what I would say: Dear Alex, I know that right now, you have this screaming newborn in your arms. I also know that despite the fact that this newborn is screaming and literally sucking the life out of your exhausted body, you love the sh*t outta her. But there are some things you should know, too. 1. You are still Alex. Regardless of the fact that people call you “mama” or “Poppy’s mom,” you are still a human being who deserves(!!!!!) her own identity apart from that of her parasite - oops, I mean baby. Don't forget to sometimes do things because they make YOU feel good or have fun. 2. Ignore the peanut gallery. They will tell you things. Some things will be helpful, like the lactation consultant who will suggest bouncing that screaming baby on a yoga ball to settle her. Some things will do nothing, like the midwife who will suggest drinking a shot of beer before nursing to help trigger letdown. Some things might even ...

I emerged from the stairwell and smiled at my colleague who was walking down the hall. I opened my mouth to say, "Hey, how are you?" but she beat me to it. Except, she didn't say "hey, how are you?" Instead, she said: "What day are you on?" I stopped in my tracks, lips bunched and eyebrows knitted. My mind went blank. What day am I on? Does she know that I'm participating in the Slice of Life Challenge? Does she think I'm taking part in a 30-day fix? Oh God, DOES SHE THINK I'M MENSTRUATING - AND ASKING ME ABOUT IT?!?! All that slipped out was "...what?" "Sorry," she said shaking her head and giggling, "what day are you on for your hair?" "Oh! I actually just washed it this morning," I said. You see...I have a reputation at my school. My reputation is that I do not wash my hair, yet will go to great lengths to hide the fact that my hair in extremely unwashed. Although I do this out of ...

"Alex. My box is missing." It's that time of year again. My inbox full of questions, groans, and anxiety. It's Fountas and Pinnell Benchmarking time. As the school literacy specialist, I am the gatekeeper, the spokesperson, the cheerleader. Little did I know that - among the many other facets of my role - this would be the source of a great deal of drama. I try to move the situation down a few notches from DEFCON 3 without making this teacher feel like I'm patronizing her. "Have you asked the resource teacher if he borrowed it?" I suggest. "I've looked in his room already," she replies. Maybe we need to inject some humor, here. "I'm happy to initiate a manhunt for you! Theft is a common problem in this building. Are you missing a Level 1 kit or Level 2? That ought to narrow down the list of suspects," I say, attempting a cheeky grin. It's a too early in the morning for me to actually be charming.   She chuck...

“Mama help?” I ask her. “No, Pah-pah!” she grunts, thumbs thrusting into her delicious Buddha belly. I say, “okay, Poppy can do it!” And then I sit back and watch as the rice flies out of her spoon, over her shoulder, and onto the floor. She puts the empty spoon into her mouth and looks at me, brow furrowed in bewilderment as to why there is not a spoonful of rice in her mouth. It felt like we had been reenacting the same scene all day. “Mama help Poppy put on shoes?” “No, Pah-pah!” “Mommy help Poppy brush hair?” “No, Pah-pah!” It seems like just yesterday she needed help with everything. She used to cry in frustration at her failures, until we taught her how to sign for “help.” Once she learned that, we had exactly 2 seconds to help her accomplish her goal after she asked for help. If we were too slow, those familiar cries broke out once again. Hmmm...maybe it was actually just yesterday. I knew that one day I’d watch my little bird fly from the nest. I guess I di...

“Bama!” My daughter is 18 months old, and she surprises me every day. Some days my husband and I come home from work and she’s learned a new word (last night it was “wait!”). Sometimes we walk through the grocery store, and she shows me that she’s learned a new sign (as of last Sunday, she’s apparently mastered “grape” and “apple”). And sometimes she surprises me by freaking out for no observable reason (we had to leave the library a mere 5 minutes into Spanish story time this morning). One thing that Poppy has learned recently is that her Obama book is not actually about her dad.  She now says “Bama” when she takes it off the shelf instead of saying “Dada!”  The resemblance that only a toddler can see! My husband and I naively patted ourselves on the backs for our daughter’s new party trick. “She knows Barack Obama,” we thought to ourselves, smugly. ...until she picked this book off the shelf at the library and said, “Bama!” We’ve got a bit mor...

When I was little, I was a good girl in school and at home. They taught me  to sit still and be quiet. They taught me that girls are nice, not bossy. Now, at thirty, I am finding my voice. The one that "pushes back." Now, I have a little girl. And when she lies down because she is not ready to leave the park, I find myself loving her voice.