My Child is “Gifted” and Other Oxymorons

I despise the eyerolls I get for talking about my struggles with a gifted child. But there are days I wish I’d kept the recipt for her “gifts”. I could walk into the hospital she was born in and say, “I’d like to return her ‘gifts’ and just get her with a normal brain, please.”

Today was a day I wish she wasn’t so smart. I found out today that she essentially had no math class at the end of the year. At her elementary school the children are given a pretest for the chapter they are about to learn (math pre-test). If they get a 100%, they sit at their desk and do “independent learning”. Well, she got the Harry Potter series last summer and she decided to only wanted to get the math chapters wrong that she thought looked like fun…charts, graphs, and so on. And the rest of the time she read. The 7 books of the Harry Potter series two times during school year.

Gifted is not always a gift. She is starting to have more anxiety about things she cannot control like other drivers on the road or people who are sick. And she has “ticks” that are showing up more often. She doesn’t feel like girls her age like the same things. She was embarrassed in kindergarten because she was the only kid reading chapter books. She gets in trouble 3-4 times a week for getting bored and then doing pirouettes or reading her books when she’s not suppose to be reading or talking to someone.  

And schools. Public schools where we are simply do not care about children who are ahead. She brings in 99’s in every standardized test she’s ever had and that makes them happy. But challenging her is not something they want to worry about. No charter schools here and the private religious based schools operated the same way as the public schools. I asked to advance her a year and was told that they don’t do that. Now here’s where shared parenting sucks. I would love to home school and her dad is too concerned about her becoming a weirdo. 

So there she sat. At the back of the classroom in her own little world with her Harry Potter books. All year long. What a waste. 



Disney Overload

We’ve just booked a trip to Disney World for Halloween. Then I get my oldest dance comp schedule today. Yep, they plan on going to worlds if they get a bid. In April ’16. In Disney World. Girl better fundraise her little booty off this year! Thanks Disney.

He’s Lost His Eff-ing Mind

Being in the medical field, people I know often come to me with health related questions. Sometimes I can tell people are using me to gauge how crazy their symptoms are before they go to their real healthcare provider. And by “people”….I mean my husband.  

First off, I’m about 2 classes and 100 clinical hours short of my PEDIATRIC nurse practitioner degree. My husband does not fall into the pediatric specially or that would be super creepy. Today he tells me, “so sometimes my left knee feels wet. Not all over, just like a 2cm square area.” 


In pediatrics, if a child tells me their left knee feels wet, there’s a 99.99999% chance this child has what is called “grabaShoutWipeSTATbecausethiskidhastheREDcherryjuiceboxtheywerejustdrinkingontheirleftkneeseriouslywhoinventedjuicebox-itis”. 

But my husband can usually handle his juice boxes without spilling so I needed to dig deep into my nursey nurse brain for this one! I’m relatively sure he’s going to make it through the night.

In his defense, the first time I met him I told him he had cancer. Not in those exact words. In these exact words. He had a sore on his eye and he says to me.

Him-“Don’t mind my eye, I’ve had this sty for like a year now.”

Me-“Oh really?” First date, mind you. Met on a dating website, first time seeing him in person.

Him-“Yea sometimes I think I pick it in my sleep because it will like bleed or scab over or something, but it just never heals.” And all the nurses reading this sing in harmony (B🎶C🎶C)

Me-(realizing he had asked me on this date because he knows I’m a nurse and he wants my opinion on his eye) “So have you talked to your doctor about it?”

Him-“No, do you think it’s something big? Like it’s not cancer…… it?”

Me-He’s cute, I better use nice but strong words so he goes to the doctor and gets this taken care of. “There’s no way of knowing without a biopsy of the area, which would have to be done by your doctor. But this is a valid symptom your healthcare provider would want to see you about.”

Btw, telling a guy to get his basal cell carcinoma taken care of can earn you some brownie points cause that boy put a ring on it!

 Do yourself a favor and Google sty. I like how the Internet is moving away from the basic race and gender neutral stock photo people. But this guys creator could have dialed down the stalker/hitchhiker look just a smidge. 

I Worked Out Today. It’s Called Kegals. 

I had influenza B pretty much all of April. No, the flu does not involve vomiting or other GI concerns. I’m talking the cough from hell! Fever, bodyaches, congestion. The real influenza. 

As the mother of two vaginally delivered daughters, I learned during April that I do not kegal nearly enough. Yes, I peed my pants. Everyday. No, every time I had a coughing episode. Super sexy, let me tell you. 

Went from panty liners to pads and then the pads got bigger because there was NO way I was buying Depends. Strengthen those pelvic floors ladies! Kegal till the cows come home. Because once you have a cough, it’s too late to realize you’ve not kegalled enough!

Don’t get to the point where you’re considering Depends. Because Depends are for when you’re so old, you’re cute again.

Hello My Name is “Her et al.” & I am a Dance Mom


She’s 8 and will be completing her 6th year of dance in a few weeks. I love to watch her dance. In the beginning, it was fun. I watched her run in her tap shoes because it sounded funny. I remember looking in and seeing all 8 five year olds making faces at themselves in the mirror and comparing wiggly teeth. 

Fast forward and the mirror is where she checks her form and spacing and whatever and she no longer runs in tap shoes (although she did break an arm running in tap shoes.) Still in their big room with psychedelic painted walls and rows of barres, comparing wiggly teeth. 

She finds fun in dance in different ways now. She thinks it’s fun in the studio, 10-12 hours a week. All the moms (including myself) just drop them off and leave now because no one wants to hang out in there alone for 3 hours straight. It’s not fun for me anymore and it’s way more expensive now. 

But here we are, on the cusp of competitive team. More money, more time and she couldn’t be more thrilled. I don’t wanna do it anymore. 

“I stuck”-Occupational Hazards of Being a Toddler 

 In honor of my 2 year olds birthday today,  I’m releasing a collection of photographs over the last year. These pictures are from actual events in which she has been stuck or has claimed to have been stuck. The first picture is my favorite because of the irony written on her onesie. She was “stuck” in her toy basket. 
Stuck trying to rip her clothes off. 
Stuck in her dolls stroller. 
Stuck backwards in her dolls stroller 
Stuck in the chair getting a haircut. 
Somehow stuck in this position against the wall. 
That pesky toy basket has a hold of her again. 
Stuck while climbing on the table she’s not suppose to be climbing on. 
And finally…legitimately stuck in her jumper. One leg in, one leg out. God, thank you for writing her into our world!