The Best in the World


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Childrearing, Children, Contest, Encouragement, Mothers and Daughters, Mothers and Sons, Sports | Posted on 19-08-2016

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I have been actively watching the Olympics each night. Actively, I say, because I yell on the sidelines sofalines. I cheer and yell loudly. My enthusiasm makes the swimmers stroke longer and the sprinters run faster.


They can. They do. And they win.

My eleven-year-old had a track meet this spring, where all fifth graders from all five elementary schools in our town gathered and competed. It’s a ritual that’s been going on for decades. They perform all of the traditional track and field events. Except pole vaulting. Oh, and the discus is a frisbee. But whatever.

But the sprints? Sheer speed. It’s a nail-biter to see who the fastest fifth grader is in town.

My son competed in the 75-meter sprint. The gun went off and he flew. I couldn’t contain my cheering: GO! YOU’VE GOT THIS!

He went. And he got it. A blue ribbon. And a huge smile.

He is the best in the my world.

When it comes to sports, do we love our children more when they win? Or do we love that our children are healthy? Or do we love that our children are becoming independent and confident?

Healthy. Independent. Confident. As a mother, I want my children to be winners on the inside. But a blue ribbon from time to time doesn’t hurt. ūüôā

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You’re Pretty


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Childrearing, Children, Family, Love, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Sons | Posted on 02-04-2016

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Mom, you’re pretty.

My eleven-year-old tells me this regularly.

Even when I’m not pretty. Like when I come home from a run and my face is sweaty and pink and my breath smells stale.

Or when I’ve had a long day at work and my eyes are bloodshot from staring at the computer and my face is droopy from stress.

Or when the dermatologist burned off some pre-cancer spots on my nose, causing it to blister and swell.

Definitely not pretty days.

Maybe he sees something that lies beneath the sweat, the stress, and the spots. Or maybe he knows that it’s on those days that I need a little extra kindness.

It’s now become “a thing.” Whenever he says You’re pretty, I smile and say You’re pretty, too. And he smiles. It’s then that we are both reminded that we are deeply loved.

I am always drawn with big curly hair, big smile, and big hands. #motherandson #mother #childrensdrawings

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Sweet Pea


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Fun, Humor, Love, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Sons | Posted on 10-02-2016

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He’s my sweet pea. He’s the apple of my eye. Both of them. Literally!

I love my son. I love this song. And I love gift cards to Amazon…where you can buy practically anything. Check out his latest purchase!

His newest purchase. Excellent!

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“Sweet Pea”

Sweet pea
Apple of my eye
Don’t know when and I don’t know why
You’re the only reason I keep on coming home

Sweet pea
What’s all of this about?
Don’t get your way all you do is fuss and pout
You’re the only reason I keep on coming home

I’m like the Rock of Gibraltar
I always seem to falter
And the words just get in the way
Oh I know I’m gonna crumble
And I’m trying to stay humble
But I never think before I say

Sweet pea
Keeper of my soul
I know sometimes I’m out of control
You’re the only reason I keep on coming
You’re the only reason I keep on coming yeah
You’re the only reason I keep on coming home

The $100 Dollar Bill


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Life Lessons, Milestones, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Sons, Sports | Posted on 06-10-2015

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Now that my sixteen-year-old son is driving, he runs errands. He makes decisions. And he buys his own football cleats.

Except, he still needs me for money.

When the time came to get¬†a new pair of football cleats, I handed my son¬†a $100 dollar bill from the red envelope that contained my gift money from last Christmas. Money saved¬†for “something special.”

Bring me back the change!

He drove. He shopped. He returned with a sparkling new pair of cleats.

Mom, you owe me $28.


Football season is well underway. As I watch my son tackle, sweat, and work so hard, I am so proud. Post-game, I always get a big, sweaty hug and smile.

So, yeah, that $100 bill was indeed used for something special.

Friday night lights.

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The Lie


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Boys, Memories, Mothers and Sons, Parenting | Posted on 24-08-2015

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My 10-year-old son loves cars. He researches them. Studies and cites car facts. Spots supercars whenever he can. Watches Top Gear religiously.

One day he spotted a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta! It made his day!

Another day, we came upon Go-Karts. He was thrilled!

Must be 12 and up to ride. Said the sign.

He was devastated.

I went up to the counter to buy tickets for my daughter and my son. Is he 12? Asked the guy behind the counter.

Um, almost. I answered enthusiastically.

Today, he is 12. Said the guy angel behind the counter.

Yes! Today he is 12! I echoed.

My son had the biggest grin as they handed him the golden coin to ride. It was even better than the golden ticket Charlie Bucket found.

My son raced with such glee and confidence, I think we should lie more often.

Spotting a Ferrari F12 Berlinetta made his day!

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You must be 12 and up to drive go-karts. So today he was 12. Wink!

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In Like A Lamb, Out Like A Lion


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Metaphor, Mothering, Mothers and Sons, School, Sports | Posted on 12-06-2015

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Football practice at the high school started up a few weeks ago.

The soon-to-be incoming freshmen–still eighth graders–with their eager faces, thin bodies, adorned in Under Armour and Nike logos, get out of their Mama’s SUVs as they get dropped off for practice. These boys who are all big time in middle school get a reality check as they step onto high school grounds.

Their jaws sorta drop. Not so big time anymore.

As the boys look around, they are surrounded by men. Men who cut their t-shirts into tank tops to show off their muscles. Men with facial hair. Men who drive.

Hey freshmen! Meet the juniors and seniors!

Two years ago, I was one of the Mamas in a SUV who dropped off her eighth grader amidst confident young men ambling to practice, laughing and strutting. I remember thinking: whoa!

Now, my son¬†is one of those…one who¬†borrows his sister’s special fabric-cutting scissors to transform perfectly nice t-shirts.

Another season is upon us…

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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. ūüôā

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

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My. Son. Is. Driving.


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Adolescence, Advice, Milestones, Mother, Mothers and Sons, Parenting | Posted on 08-05-2015

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Sweet Sixteen.


My oldest son has been itching to drive. When he got his driver’s permit last year, it was countdown time for him. Countdown to¬†freedom, power, independence.

It was also countdown time for me. Countdown to the yikes-my-son-will-be-alone-behind-the wheel-of-a-powerful-fast-vehicle-capable-of-going-80 m.p.h.-with-a-slight-push-of-a-pedal. What if?

So hard to let go.

He had a lot of practice over the past year. I admit, I¬†was a total backseat driver. Slow down! Get ready to turn! Change lanes! Did you check your mirror?! Your exit is coming up! You’ve got to make¬†a complete stop at a stop sign! Watch your speed!¬†

And stuff like that.

When he drove, our reactions were pretty much:

My. Son. Is. Driving.

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Am I ever going to stop worrying?

And then. I remembered when I was 15 going on 16. All I wanted to do was drive. I was an excellent driver!

Actually, not so much…

  1. My driver’s education teacher said I had a lead foot.
  2. I took¬†my driver’s test twice, because I flunked it the first time.
  3. My father taught me how to drive a manual in a Ford truck. While still a clutch novice, it was chug, chug, chugging across intersections.
  4. The weekend after I (finally) earned¬†my driver’s license, I got a ticket for running a red light. My mother let me borrow her Fiat convertible for the evening–oh, so cool, with the top down and friends in the car. Yellow light, red light, then police lights.¬†Busted.
  5. So yeah, traffic school at the age of 16. Eight hours on a Saturday.
  6. Once, I was driving along the coastline, on a curvy highway. I pulled over¬†so we could check out the view, but didn’t estimate the short stopping distance. Slamming on the breaks, we were inches from the¬†cliff’s edge.
  7. Once, I totaled that sporty Fiat. On the freeway, traffic stopped suddenly and I rear-ended the car in front of us. Our car was not salvageable. Fortunately, we walked away with only minor concussions.

So, yeah, Am I ever going to stop worrying? Given my driving history and bumps along the way, probably not. There will always be new things to worry about.

I talked to both of my parents about when I started driving.

Was my mother worried?¬†YES. We had a good talk about my driving shenanigans. It’s all funny now. Remember when?! But she told me that she had to let go and trust that everything would be OK.

Did my father remember teaching me how to drive a stick? Of course. Was he worried? Not really, he said, because it’s part of growing up. But he did suggest that¬†I might say a prayer when my son¬†gets behind the wheel. ūüôā

Talking to my parents really put things into perspective. I have come full circle.

It’s OK to worry. But as a parent, I¬†also need to encourage and support. And let go. And maybe say a prayer (or three hundred).

My son turned 16 and is now driving daily. With each day, he has more confidence. And you know what? With each day, I have more confidence in him. And in myself. For learning to trust and let go.

Happy Mother’s Day!

First solo maiden voyage. #proud

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Something Borrowed, Something Purple


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Confidence, Connections, Family, Mothers and Sons, School | Posted on 23-04-2015

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My 10-year-old son completed a massive, it-takes-a-village-presentation on Bill Gates. He read a biography on him, wrote a book report, and prepared a poster board filled with images and facts and drawings.

It was a six-week project. And let me tell you, it was a doozy.

A little graphics assistance from Dad. A little editing assistance from Mom. A purple plaid shirt borrowed from Sister. And the only tie in the house?

A black satin mafia tie borrowed from Brother.

When my son presented to his classmates and to the parents at Open House, he was full of facts, full of enthusiasm, full of confidence. He nailed it! All by himself.

Bill Gates at open house. He nailed his presentation!

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Ain’t No Sunshine


Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Childrearing, Children, Connections, Love, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Sons, Music | Posted on 27-05-2014

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Lately I’ve been listening to Amos Lee, Van Morrison, and Bill Withers. That is, when I’m not listening to Pink Martini and Madeleine Peyroux. Or Macklemore and Beastie Boys. Or Pitbull and Michael Franti.¬†

And whatever I listen to, my kids listen to. Because. Driver gets to pick the music.

My nine-year-old son is getting good at singing along to the lyrics. Let’s see. He knows¬†Brass Monkey by Beastie Boys,¬†Thrift Shop by Macklemore. Oops. Both of those…my bad.

But then there’s the soulful¬†Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone by Bill Withers. He knows those lyrics too. So, really, it all balances out.

As a result, my son now tells me, “Ain’t no sunshine when Mom is gone.” Maybe to get an extra cookie. Maybe to stay up a little later.

Or maybe, because. He’s super sweet like that. And because some lyrics are worth learning and repeating.

My little sweetie!

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Partly cloudy? Or partly sunny? How do you choose to view the world? -Pesky Pippi

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So innocent!

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