Author: Rebecca Cuneo Keenan

DAILY SNACK

The new birthday tricycle has sat in the stairwell for weeks.

“Do you want to take your new bike to the park?”

“Yeah, okay. My NEW tricycle?! Yay!”

On the sidewalk now he holds the handlebar and starts walking the trike,

As happy as can be.

“Don’t you want to try riding it?

That’s right. Now I’ll help and you push down hard on the peddle with one foot and then the other.”

And he was going — really peddling!

The trike veered off to the right, headed directly into oncoming traffic.

“On no, Mommy! The road!”

“Steer the bike, C. Turn the handle bars this way.”

I guided the tricylce back to safety,

but he could no longer get it to move.

So we walked it all the way to the park,

Proud as anything.

DAILY SNACK

He puts his head right up against her chest,

And you think she’s going to be crushed.

Instead she laughs and shrieks.

She grabs his hair,

And you think he’s going to get mad.

Instead he smiles and gazes up at her.

He breaks into his own, their own, funny baby talk babble.

I try to tell him that baby sister needs to learn real words from him.

But this is real, too.

Real love and affection and fun.

DAILY SNACK:

Bad Mother Edition

I was up late last night anyway.

Then, just before turning in at 2am,

Bats and scary butterflies invaded Young C’s dreams.

L’il I woke up and kept on waking on.

C couldn’t get back to sleep either.

Finally, finally, I somehow fell asleep.

5am and baby’s crying again.

She was tucked in beside me,

Drifting off at the breast,

When I smelled it.

That was a dirty smelling diaper.

And I left it ’till morning.

DAILY SNACK:

Bad Mother Edition

Wading pool season is about to open,

And we all needed swimsuits.

So I picked up my sister for backup,

And headed to the mall.

Finding trunks for Young C was easy enough.

But the racks of little girl one and two pieces were a mess.

Did they even have anything for babies?

And, ohmygod, look at how cute this is.

And I think I’ll look at suits for myself, too.

And lets just see about bras.

But where’s C?

Really. NO. Where is he?!

I’m yelling his name now,

Alerting everyone in the store that I am missing my child.

I found him

Playing in the far corner of the huge store.

And I really felt bad.

DAILY SNACK:

Bad Mother Edition

There had been four tuck-ins already.

He had been read to and sung to and snuggled and cuddled.

He went to the bathroom. Again.

He had a drink of milk. He ate an apple.

I was starting to get annoyed — this was my time.

I said goodnight again and tried to leave.

When he started screaming I lost it.

Lost. It.

“You are going to wake you sister.”

I was hissing.

I picked him up and carried him through the apartment.

I don’t think I knew where I was going.

I dropped him outside and told him not to come in until he was ready to sleep.

It wasn’t pretty.

But it worked.

DAILY SNACK:

Bad Mother Edition

More often than I care to admit.

I’d say that it happened today,

As though it were unusual.

As though it were the exception.

Normally, I’d make light of something like this,

Because it doesn’t sound like a big deal.

Not every once in a while, right?

But what if it’s most days?

Even most beautiful sunny summer days when boys should be romping around outside in the park?

And my kid didn’t get dressed until just before lunch.

Again.

DAILY SNACK:

Bad Mother Edition

I pushed my three-year-old in the stroller.

The baby was tucked into the wrap.

They were both asleep,

And I was motoring up Yonge Street.

“Wait!” A woman cried.

I stopped short, on edge.

“Your baby is falling out.”

“No. She’s not.”

“Oh, I see. Well, cover her head. It’s windy.”

I almost hit her.

And, out of spite, I did not cover my baby’s head.

Even though it was windy.