Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Adolescence, Childhood, Childrearing, Children, Clothes, Family, Fashion, Mothers and Sons, Relationships | Posted on 09-06-2016

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I love socks. Probably because my feet are usually cold.

When my children were little, I bought them the cutest socks. As an infant, my oldest had a pair with rattles built in and he’d bicycle kick his feet, with the biggest grin. I had read that black-and-white patterns make infants’ brains develop better, so of course they had their patterned socks. My daughter had adorable watermelon socks and ladybug socks. My youngest son had tie-dye socks I bought in Berkeley. I probably paid more for that “artisan” pair of socks than a whole pack of running socks for me!

Three years back, I wrote about our abundance of mismatched socks. How they sit lonely, unmatched in a drawer in the laundry room. Waiting, waiting for the perfect match. Then I wrote about how we turned those lonely socks into a happy Sock Puppet family. Check out the video:


I have a pair of yellow, smiley face socks that make me happy when I’m down. My daughter has polka-dot mushroom socks, unicorn-and-rainbow socks, and sloth socks. Sloth socks? I think they are supposed to make you feel relaxed. 🙂

Then of course there are the very expensive athletic socks the guys wear these days. The socks that hit mid calf. I’m not sure what’s up with that style, but I’ll go with it. I mean, I remember being in middle school when no one wore socks. They were so uncool. You wore your Vans or Keds or Sperry Topsiders with no socks. Puberty + sweaty, unsocked feet = very stinky shoes.

My youngest son, who is now eleven years old, recently asked if he could have a pair of those guy socks. One pair, that’s it. Ah, peer pressure socks. My son is super sweet and doesn’t ask for much. So of course I bought him not one but six pairs of theses guy socks. The hugs and smile? Totally worth it! Hey, and at least they help to cut down on the stinky shoes.

It’s all about the socks.

A photo posted by PeskyPippi (@peskypippi) on

Boys and their socks. A photo posted by PeskyPippi (@peskypippi) on

The Boy Who Wore A Tie to School


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Attitude, Childhood, Childrearing, Children, Confidence, Growing UP, Parenting | Posted on 09-06-2015

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Once upon a time, there was a boy. All he wanted was a suit. With a vest. And a tie.

To wear to school. Because he wanted to look nice.

How could I resist?

I bought him that suit, with its matching pin-striped slacks and vest, button-down shirt, and clip-on tie.

He was smashing! He wore that suit nearly every day.

Until one day, the slacks became knickers. 🙂

Once upon a time, he wanted a suit. With a vest. And a tie. To wear to school.

A photo posted by PeskyPippi (@peskypippi) on

Peanut Butter, Monopoly, and My First Kiss


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Adolescence, Boys, Kissing, Love, Teenagers | Posted on 08-06-2012

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Who knew that my first open-mouthed kiss would be as a Freshman in high school, with a lanky boy with braces, who had just eaten peanut butter?

It all began when I was a Freshman in high school. Dating an older boy. It was raining. I remember the smell of his wet shoes. Big shoes with dirty laces. We started up a game of Monopoly at his house. Led Zeppelin was playing in the background.

Where were his parents? Who knows. We were latch-key kids. What had I told my mother about my whereabouts? Some lie.

What I was prepared for, was to win at Monopoly. My strategy is always to buy all of the oranges and reds and yellows–maybe even all of the railroads–and take over the game. What I wasn’t prepared for was that first real kiss.

Wet mouth. Slobber. Braces. Peanut butter.

It wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t quite what I had hoped for.

I had been imagining that kiss for years. Even practiced on my arm. And in the mirror.

I had hoped for minty breath. Or cinnamon breath. I was gum-chewer (still am), always paranoid that my breath is “kissing ready.” I was picturing, in my romantic mind, that the kiss would go like this:

But the reality was more like smashing faces. Hitting teeth. And chin slobber. I was partly to blame. I was new at this. He was two years older.

What I couldn’t get over was that peanut butter smell. And the smell of rain-soaked shoes and clothes. They say smells bring you back to a memory.

Whenever I get a whiff of that peanut-butter-and-dank-shoes smell, I will forever remember my first make-out session as a blossoming teen.

What was your first real kiss like?

Jackass = Research for Mothers of Boys


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Attitude, Childrearing, Children, Humor, Mothering | Posted on 30-12-2011

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Jackass movies are hi-freaking-larious

And totally inappropriate. Their inappropriateness is what make them the perfect research for mothers of boys and wives of men.

What is it about the Jackass guys? They are fearless. They are funny. They are self-humiliating. They are physical. They are perennially naked. They don’t give a crap.

They are the ultimate boy men.

Watching makes me cackle, gasp, and gag. All at once.

I mean, who skates down a a hill with belt sander skates? Who does the limbo with an electric-shock bar? Who drives a runaway scooter, disguised as an old man, through city streets? Who dresses his penis in a mouse puppet costume?

Who sits on the toilet on display at the hardware store and takes a poop while reading the newspaper? Visiting the toilet display at Lowes or Home Depot will never be the same.

Oh and the guy strapped inside a porta potty that is sling-shotted? That is probably the grossest thing I have ever witnessed. You gag and kinda throw up in your mouth. And then you kinda never want to visit a porta potty again. But then you do in an emergency and you think of the Jackass guys. Full circle.