Motherhood & More: Wrapping up public outlet before the kids discover it*

This is it, guys. I think I’ve said all I can say on the nature of parenthood and my children.

I mean, probably not because I am wordy and super into over-sharing. But I also am in great danger of repeating myself and it’s much more forgivable to do that over a glass of wine with friends than in this column space for everyone one to see.

Of course, I could keep discussing with you the impressive stubbornness of my daughter.

Just this morning, we woke up 30 minutes late for school and instead of hurrying to catch the bus, she slowed down her movements to a comical degree. That’s the logical step when your mother asks you to go faster, correct? Her hair was half-brushed, but she was all the way dressed so I’m calling it a win.

Or I could talk about my son and the recent introduction of back talk into his behavior repertoire. This goes hand in hand with his need to always be right, no matter what, and his refusal to give any ground when he’s sure of himself. Obviously, I always am wrong in these situations.

Or maybe I could discuss the kindness of my daughter and how she is the first to check on someone when they’ve gotten themselves hurt and the first to offer comfort and assistance. And how she has single-handedly tamed our shelter kittens just with her will and need to love them.

And then there’s my son, who is determined and introspective, who wants to learn all he can about everything and who’s already starting the fourth Harry Potter book when he’s only 8 years old. We could talk about how sweet he is to other children, especially those younger than him. Except his sister. That goes without saying, right?

But at this point you probably know all of that already, don’t you? You know me, you know my children. You hopefully can see the pride I have in each of them, even when they push me to the brink of sanity.

And maybe you can see that my parental complaining is intentional. I like to use this space to show solidarity with other parents.

Kids are weird. When we see someone else’s child acting weird, we can stop feeling like we’re screwing up our own because weirdness is an inherent trait they all share.

You are welcome.

So I am running out of ways to share all of this with you and life is becoming overwhelmingly busy. It’s time to streamline for the good of the family.

If you’d like to keep in touch, I do have a blog I hope to update more often: jaimalaya.blogspot.com. But I make no promises — life and whatnot.

I’ve really, really enjoyed my time in this space. I love having a reason to stop and think and analyze. It’s been cathartic and challenging and wonderful. Thank you for allowing me to be here, but it’s time to go.

Also my kids can read and I live in fear of them picking up a newspaper and seeing what I’ve written about them.

*This column originally published in The News-Enterprise on Sept. 28, 2016.