Mistaken Identity

My friends do it.

My neighbors do it.

Grandparents do it.

There’s a good chance your parents did it.

My mom still does it.

I do it. All the time.

And, apparently, pet owners do it, too.

There’s even a Facebook page about it.

Heck, I kind of suspect The Bard himself (father of three) might have done it, too…

“What’s in a name?
That which we call a rose
by any other name would smell as sweet…”

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Mistaken Identity

When I called my daughter, “Daisy!”
she looked like I was crazy;
in my multitasking fog
I’d summoned not her, but the dog.

I know moms who’ve done the same –-
called a kid by his pet’s name —
or, to make it even worser,
done exactly the vice-versa:
yelled for daughter or for son
when she meant the furry one.

Have I so much on my plate
that I can’t keep their names straight?
Still, the worst (or worser-ish)
would be mistaking kid for fish.
Especially, it must be said,
if – like ours – said fish were dead.

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©2010 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz

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Mine vs. Yours

As a lover of language, I must say there’s nothing like a good, creative euphemism.

Some of the best come from the parenting community. And believe it or not, I’ve actually heard moms and dads use some of the phrases listed below.

But not in regard to my kids, of course…

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Mine vs. Yours

My child is physically expressive.
Yours is overly aggressive.

My child draws on everything — such artistry!
Yours doesn’t respect others’ property.

My child is talented — so vocally endowed!
Yours is absolutely much too loud.

My child doesn’t prefer those she doesn’t know.
Yours never speaks and surely must be slow.

My child loves taking charge – how cute!
Yours is a bossy, bullying brute.

My child speaks her mind when she’s in the mood.
Yours is very obviously rude.

My child is spirited, that’s a fact.
Yours is – plain and simple – a brat.

© 2010 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz

Almighty Epidural

quilt image, colorful quilt
I’m not here to stir up (or stirrup, as the case may be…) controversy about epidurals during childbirth.

We all know that every woman is different and every labor is different. I was lucky enough to have a choice in planning my birth experience, although — wouldn’t ya know — things didn’t turn out quite the way I’d planned.

With both my deliveries, I endured several hours of labor before I was deemed eligible for pain relief. During my first daughter’s birth, it proved a hinderance. During my second daughter’s birth, it served its purpose well.

Still…to medicate or not to medicate? That, indeed, is the question.

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ALMIGHTY EPIDURAL

Many of my friends
hold fast the belief
that pharmacological relief
during labor
isn’t needed.

Their advice I heeded,
but in the end
the reassuring thought
of enduring with naught
but Lamaze
gave me

pregnant

pause.

And so…
the spinal shot?

I got.

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©2009 Carlotta Eike Stankiewicz