“YOU GROW UP THE THE FIRST DAY YOU HAVE YOUR FIRST REAL LAUGH – AT YOURSELF”
Name: Caroline (or TCMom around these parts)
Age: 35 but birthdays no longer count since 2002 when I turned the perfect age of 29.
Married: Oh yeah, happily to B. In 1996 and at the wee age of 23, he tried scamming on me in a bar. It worked.
Hometown: Washington D.C., Eastham, MA., Mbabane, Swaziland and on it goes…
Residence: Florida; deep in the heart of ‘Truman Show’ style suburbia where the mail boxes are identical, the sun is always shining and in everyone mows their lawns on Sundays.
Children: T. (5) and C. (2). They’re perfect, wonderful boys. And unless I experience a lobotomy or actually win the elusive million on Deal or No Deal, we don’t plan on having any more. And yes, I would have loved a daughter but I am over it. Life gives you what it gives you, be blessed, be grateful… and move on.
Pets: One lone highly annoyed calico cat named Chloe.
Political Views: Liberal, Democrat.
- Blogger and Freelance Writer:
I write at my personal blog Morningside Mom, I am the Tampa City Editor at Savvy Source.com and I am the Liberal Moms editor at Type A Moms. Apart from writing about the everyday calamities occurring in my household, I write editorials, articles, posts, you name it about parenting, politics, local happenings for children, international perspectives and everything in between. I also write reviews – check out my work with HP here.
- Full Time Mother:
Chef, driver, complaints desk, sanitation worker, camp counselor, teacher, rules committee, entertainer, personal trainer, language counselor, master of snuggles, playdate arranger, potty trainer, fashion consultant, personal shopper, nutritionist, positive reinforcer, manager of corner sitting, referee, on call 24 hours, nurse, health advocate, educational consultant, weight lifter, bartender, sleep specialist, female Wiggle, ultimate multi-tasker, routine enforcer, AND THE BOSS OF EVERYONE.
Am willing to:
Cook: If asked it will happen but, generally, I only cook for my children, for large groups of people who must be fed or for anyone else who may be desperate. Applause for my chef husband may be cued now.
Exercise: Walking, running, hiking and Wii Fit are preferable. Will attempt whatever sport my child asks me to play – success at or actual ability with said sport is not required. Neighborhood walks with my stroller are more realistic but a consistent pace is not possible due to frequent stops to peer in drains, fetch items flung from stroller and stops to chat with neighbors. Points are awarded for “40 lbs child” lifting, pinning down, diaper changing and overall maintenance; points also given for: bike pushing, ball fetching, playground climbing, hill rolling and grocery lifting.
Shop: Walmart trips with children in tow are a necessity but not a preference. Coupon clipping, price comparing and deal obsessing are part of this activity. Shopping for pleasure is laughable and usually not possible.
Clean: It must happen and it does happen. But it does not always happen well. As my husband often says, “its like throwing deck chairs off the titanic”.
Dance: Clear the living room, crank the tunes, and flail madly around the room with kids. No further explanation required.
Am not willing to:
Eat bon bons on couch and watch soaps
Wrestle; this is in my husbands job description and its just not my bag, baby
Do the taxes – math is involved
Once upon a time I was a young woman with a flourishing career in college admissions. Yes, once upon a time I would have considered myself a fast paced career woman, who worked late hours and went out for drinks with her co-workers. I actually accrued almost 10 years of admissions experience recruiting, reading application, speaking, supervising, wearing actual dress up clothes, clip clopping around in heels and going to an office everyday. Ah yes, those were the days. (*Wistful sigh*) But between you and me? While the pay is total crap? I love this job a whole lot more and plan on keeping at it as long as I can.
Ok, well. Thanks for reading. Now off you go. Really. You know WAY to much about me now… and its kind of freaking me out.