Adventures in Step-daddying – Cutting It Short

lawnmowingThere are rites of passage we all must go through. First walk to school alone. First dance. First job. But somewhere in-between them all is first garden chore.

Back in my day, I had a briggs and stratton gas mower, old-fashioned manual clippers and a rake. I didn’t get paid for it, it was part of my allowance.

Now in our house, the boys don’t get an allowance. They do, however, get paid for the chores they do. The Oldest, wanting a treadmill, needed a way to earn more money.

Oh, I nearly jumped out of my chair when I heard those words. “I want to earn more money.” The boys have learned as soon as they say they’re bored, they don’t have anything to do or they need money, I leap into action and find something for them to do. So, yeah, they usually don’t say those things.

This time, however, he couldn’t help himself. The Oldest needed more money. Simple as that. So I turned to an old favourite. Mowing.

We went and checked out all the mowers. Weighed the pros and cons. Pushed them around in the stores. Talked to the sales people.

Then he made his choice.

Gas was too loud. He’d heard the neighbours run their machines and hated that he’d wake people up or bother them. Electric had a cord he didn’t want to lug around, but it was lighter and much, much more quiet. That left the cordless electric. A little less power, not too expensive and only good on mostly dry lawns. That meant he’d have to mow a little more often.

mowerHe accepted the challenge and we bought one. A cobolt blue Kobalt mower. Vrrooom!

When it came time to assemble it, I asked him, do you want to do it the Joe way where you basically yank it out of the box and toss all the stuff on the ground and assemble it by sheer intellectual willpower? Or do you want to read the instructions.

He read the instructions.

It was put together without a single piece left over.

I was proud.

bowserThen he took it for a spin. I know he was nervous. I know he wasn’t sure what to do. I know he would have rather been inside smacking Mario’s arch enemy, Bowser, but today, today he mowed!

It took a few runs to get used to how the blades cut, how the wheels could be used to help line up the next cut, and how to set the height of the mower. But after a few minutes, he was a pro. He marched up and down our front lawn, scything the grass to the correct height.

He didn’t want to say anything, but I think he was proud of himself.

He’d completed another right of passage. One of many this year.

And so many more to go.

I know with each one, he’ll become more and more confident in his ability to handle the world, but you know what, that’s a little sad, too. The more time we spend making sure he’s going to be ok, the more we’re giving him his own space. One day, he won’t need his parent, he’ll be his own man.

I can already see the signs.

In some ways, I wish he’d never grow up. In other ways, I can’t wait for the next rite of passage.

Posted in Blogging, Parenting, Stepdad, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Derpy Sus – Part 2 – Aka wtf?

facepalmIn on-going effort to keep current, to be able to understand what The Oldest is saying (or by saying it myself, totally take away the cool factor), I looked into this whole You Tube video phenomenon.

It’s not like You Tube is new or anything. It’s not like I didn’t know about You Tube. But it’s so expansive, so pervasive, that I had to look deeper.

First of all, anyone can pretty much post any video they want, right? That means you can watch other people play video games. Or you can see your favourite animal do your favourite animal things. Or you can see all kinds of parodies, even parodies of parodies.

Or watch someone’s altered, weird video of something normal.

And that’s where the kids are these days. Watching vids of loud people shouting at the screen while playing video games, looking at cats steal dogs’ bed,  or watching an altered version of a commercial, a speech, well, hell, pretty much anything.

Honestly, there’s so much on there that it’s impossible to list it all. But it’s from those videos that The Oldest began to take a turn to the dark side. He’d watch a funny video where they’d say intellllllllllll’ligent, like a computer had glitched the sound, so now when he’s in the mood, he’ll stretch out all his sounds like he’s having a stroke.


sarah connorIf I ever sound like that, it means call 911. Or I’ve been turned into a robot, in which case, call Sarah Connor.

But it’s something I just don’t get why it’s so funny. I hope my sense of humor has not withered like an old man baking in the sun, but when I watch one of those videos and The Oldest is laughing so hard there’s tears in his eyes, I can only stare at it and shake my head. I just don’t get it.

But from those videos, he’ll also pick up words like sus, which could be a video technique used to make the sssss all stretched out, or something cool that someone does, or something suspicious, or it can be a verb sometimes, or an adjective sometimes, or sometimes, a description. Honestly, I don’t quite get it, but I can get the context.


I tried to get him to explain it to me. “What sus?”

“Sus!” he said, as if that explained everything.

“No, really what is it?”

“It’s sus, ok, sus,” he rolls his eyed and sighed as heavily as if he was talking to a 2 year old. “Sus!!!!” Then he did a very slow face-palm and walked away.

Not that enlightening, eh?

ellenAnd that was about as much as he was willing to explain. However, I suspect if I chained him to a chair and threatened to make him watch 100 episodes of Ellen while bees crawled over his body, he’d still give me the same answer.

Why? Because I don’t think anyone really knows what it means. It’s just a word to be used when you want to use it. Or have a good giggle.

So, ok, fine. It’s the same for joj. That’s sus speak for someone’s name beginning with J. Or not. Or, oh who knows…

It’s all very confusing and very, very complex. Hell, try looking us sus here

rickrollerBut at least sus is a word. Like derpy, I kind of like it. We’ve stolen that one, too. And ‘Rickrolling” which is a bait and switch term, you know, like when you look at a site that says, ‘Sandra Bullock nude, again,” and you totally, completely accidentally click on it and it takes you to a site that rants about global warming or tries to sell you a monkey-semen-smoothie as an aphrodisiac.

I know keeping current is going to be a challenge. A huge one. But as a parent, you really have to make the effort. There’s some crap online. There’s some bad, bad stuff. And there’s a new language evolving. Best to be aware of it.

For a look at the internet and your child, check out these sites.

Parents Ultimate Guild to Youtube

Doc Brown – You think our netslang is bad? Check out English slang



Posted in Parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

Derpy Sus – Part 1

wtf is palimpsest?

wtf is palimpsest?

Ok, I confess.

It took me a while to figure what that meant. I can usually get an idea of what something means by the context, like when really smart people use big words because they have a tendency towards sesquipedalian loquaciousness.

But this generation beats us all. Well, maybe not all. I mean poor Shakespeare started out by writing,

shakespeare“Nay, and I tell you that, Ill ne’er look you in the face again: but those that understood him smiled at one another and shook their heads; but, for mine own part, it was Greek to me.

And it became – “I dunno what he said.”

I think somewhere Shakespeare cry-eth.

So when The Oldest first starting saying things like jsssh, sus, or derpy, I thought he’d fallen on his head really hard-like. That he would break out into uncontrollable giggles after saying ‘Billy Mays’, well, that just confirmed it. He must have a concussion. Or a brain tumor.

However, his marks remained great, he could still pack the dishwasher with machine-like precision and he could still quote every funny phrase spoken in Adventure Time, so something else was going on.

That something turned out to the, (big surprise), the internet.



In my times, it would have been TV. I think I went through a Fonz phase. Aaaay!!!

I even remember using such words as grody, rad and awesome (ok, I still totally use that last word a lot,) so maybe I shouldn’t be that surprised that a whole new vocabulary has been vomited from our media.

I mean, hey, I now use OMG, LOL and WFT all the time. It’s part of my lexicon.

So I kinda thought I was still hip (though even by using the word ‘hip’, it kinda shows how exactly un-hip I am.) I thought I could keep up on the new slang, the new abbreviations, and the new phrases. I thought if I watched Hunger Games, played Minecraft and listened to Nicki Minaj, I would be ok.

Turns out, I needed to be watching more You Tube. Like other people playing video games. Or squirrels hiding nuts in a dog’s fur. Or babies doing cute baby things.

Yes, it's brown.

Yes, it’s brown.

But that’s only the surface. If you really want to know what’s going on, you need to watch You Tube Poop.  (More on that in the next blog),. It’s where he gets most of the new words come from. (Like meme). It’s where old words are perverted or subverted. (Like Sus or Joj.) It’s where technology is transforming our language. (Like dragging out the sounds in a word – Intellllllllllligent.)

Honestly I don’t get most of it, but derpy, ah, there’s a word I get. In fact, I’m starting to use it. It’s a wonderful word. Awkward, weird, foolish, silly, funny. It’s all of those in one word. I love it. Plus, it sounds like it means. Derpy.

So maybe that’s my defense. I’ll use sus and derpy and drag out the sounds of certain words until it’s no longer something the kids own, we adults have own it, too. And what better way to kill the cool factor of anything than by having your mom or dad say it.

I think I would have thrown up if my dad had said, have a gnarly day at school, dude.

But maybe that’s my best defense against this onslaught of newness.  It’s how the Chinese beat the Mongols. They just absorbed them and made them less cool.


Posted in Blogging, Parenting, Stepdad, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Step-dad Adventures – 10 Things to Bring to Camp


Ah, camping.

Ok, I know I’m going back a bit here, kinda like time traveling, which would be so awesome if I could actually do it, but I needed to finish off something I’ve been thinking about at 3am in the morning.

So, more posts coming about hockey, mowing and understanding Derp-speak, but in the meantime… the last post about camping.

10 Things A Camping Chaperon Needs – That They Won’t Tell You Need.

  • A flashlight. I should have thought of this myself. It does get very dark in the woods, apparently, what with no streetlights and all. So bring a good one. (I hear there’s one that’s 63,500 Lumens. My iphone was 10.) Plus a good is great for temporarily blinding the kids who sneak up on your cabin at 1am. Me, I’d bring a headlamp, not so much cuz I look so cool wearing one, but they free up your hands for when you trip over a root and nearly fall on your face.
  • kleenex

    Go Costco size on this one.

    Kleenex. Everyone, including me, seemed to have a cold or a runny nose. You don’t want your pockets full of wadded toilet paper and you certainly don’t want to see what happens when a 12 year old blows hard on such flimsy paper. I would recommend the pocket packs or be prepared to watch them all wipe snot on their sleeves.

  • If you’re allowed electronics, (or just sneak them in), then ear buds will save your life. Even if you don’t have any electronics to plug them into, just put them in your ears when you’re in the mess cabin and the kids make more noise than a 747.
  • A swiss army knife. You just never know when you’re going to need to cut something, corkscrew something (or someone), or tighten a screw that’s come loose. Personally, I would recommend one with tweezers, a bottle opener and scissors. If they have one with a gun attached, bring that one.
  • A camera. We were told, specifically, not to bring one and I regretted it from day one. If you’re with your own child, take pictures of them, of their adventures and accomplishments. Don’t take pictures of other kids and post them on FB without or insta-chat-snap-gram or whatever, but you’ll hate not capturing that moment when you child finally sets fire to something or staggers in from a 4 hour hike up a mountain
  • A pen. Someone needs to record what’s going on. Like writing about the holocaust while it happens. Sometimes it’s not even you. We had 2 journalers in our little cabin. Plus, in a pinch, it can be used to stab a bear. Oh and bring paper or a book or a diary to write on otherwise you’re just writing on your arm or scraps of toilet paper.
  • Honestly, I don't even know how to read this one.

    Honestly, I don’t even know how to read this one.

    A watch. I know what you’re thinking. Duh. Right? But I am completely dependent on my iphone. It has an alarm, time, and reminds me about things I needed to be reminded about. It’s like having a mom with you all time. So, without one, you’ll need a watch. With a compass. And an alarm

  • First Aid Kit. Oh sure, there’ll be someone there who knows first aid, but try finding them and where they hid the damn kit when everyone’s off having adventures, and you have someone who jabbed a stake through their hand (or, more accurately, a tiny splinter into their finger.)
  • I don't really want to think about what's on the bathroom floors

    I don’t really want to think about what’s on the bathroom floors

    Flip-flops. Ok, because no one wants to walk into some of those communal showers with bare feet. I’m not sure what slime was on the tiles, but it was green and moving, so, yeah, best keep your feet free from any of that (and, hey, flip-flops take up so little space.)

  • Patience. No one will tell you to bring this, but bring a ton. And I’m not talking about a hip flask of ‘patience’, no, save that for when you get home. But maybe bring prayer beads or have an elastic on your wrist you snap whenever you want to shout at someone.

I was thinking you might also want to bring an axe, tarp and rope, but we’re not committing murders, so maybe leave those at home.

However, if you want some AMAZINLGY cool things to bring on a camping trip, check out this site.


Is there anything you’d make sure you brought on a school camping trip?


As always, please follow if you want to know more about surviving camping with 12 year olds. Or share on FB. (I’m needy and need to be read by millions.)



Posted in Blogging, Parenting, School, Stepdad, Travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Step-dad Adventures – The Easter Pig

piggieMost houses have an Easter Bunny. For some reason, we have an Easter Pig. The Easter Bunny is fluffy and cute and puts of lots of chocolates (or Easter eggs) for good little boys and girls.

Our Easter Pig is taller, cute in a kind of a hairy-pig type of way, and makes everyone work for the treats. Our Easter Pig, however, is NOT what Google described at an overweight woman who wears too much makeup. That’s just mean. Our Easter Pig is adorable and lovable and largely make-up-less.

The EP’s rules are simple – If you find all the candies, you get the HUGE Kinder Egg about the size of an elephant’s head. If you came up one short, the Pig gets the big ass Kinder Egg. Or I do. (I was a little hazy on the final details of who got that Kinder Egg.)

Anyway, in our house, the Easter Pig hides the chocolates all over the place. It doesn’t hide chocolates under things, inside of things or buried in things. So no hunting through the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world’s underwear drawer. No digging through my book shelves and mis-aligning books. No crawling under the couch and becoming covered in dust and dog toys. No unrooting half-dead plants in the planters. No breaking into the pantry and filling your pockets with cookies.

All of the treats are put in plain sight. But that’s the genius of the Easter Pig. You’d think they’d all be easy to find, but no, the Easter Pig is cunning.

kissesSo this Easter weekend, the boys woke up to what the Easter Pig had done. They’re used to the Pig, but in a much smaller house. This year, the Easter Pig went crazy, hiding 130 Hershey’s kisses in all sorts of places. On chandeliers. On top of pictures. On doorknobs (the foil the same color as the metal).

Ok, eerr, the Easter Pig actually hid 140 kisses, but someone, who may nor may not have been me, I’m not admitting to anything, ate 10 of them before the boys got up. Whoever ate them, in fairness, found them and thought that they were for him, I mean, him or her, so, yeah, it was a total mistake but completely understandable, right???

Apart from those 10 kissed mysteriously disappearing, I loved the Hunt. It was my first Easter Pig morning.

The boys ran around gathering the low hanging fruit –  the kisses put on pillows, counters and tables. Then, when they were told they were only half done, they raced around, each boy trying to gather more than his brother.

the flashThe Youngest came up with a strategy that involved him simply moving faster than his brother. His brother would see one, and move towards it, but The Youngest moved with Flash-like speed, a blur of blue PJs and blond hair and grab it first. Then make an evil laugh.

I think he’ll make a fine super-villain one day.

The Oldest then countered by going after only the ones up high. No matter how much The Youngest jumped, he couldn’t reach them. So he went low, looking in the planters, on the small cabinets and on window sills. He would not be stopped!

After a short time, they had nearly a 120, but those last 10 were a bugger. One was found dangling from the family easy-erase board. One was found on the handle holding the toilet paper. One was found hidden in a lego display.

That left 7.

kitchen sinkThe Prettiest-girl-in-the-world, being an ally of the Easter Pig, spotted one and gave a hint. “Sounds like ‘Smiling Habinet’.” Then, she saw another and said, “it sounds like ‘litchen Hink’.”

The boys soon found the last ones, and, as promised, they got to open the gigantic planet-sized Kinder Egg.

I have to say, it was so much fun watching the boys hunt around, unlocking Easter Pig secrets (like the Pig loved to hide things on lamps in such a way that made the kisses look like part of the lamp.) I loved that they were good-natured about the competition (I think The Oldest got the most candies, but The Youngest definitely worked the hardest.)

And I loved being a part of it.

As a non-dad for so long, it’s still surprising to me how much I enjoy the little things. That walk in the park with the boys. Christmas morning. Band (or choir) recitals. Even teaching The Oldest to mow the lawn or The Youngest how to vacuum.

Plus, at the end of all the searching, we got to eat the chocolate as well, though The Youngest wanted to know what we’d do for him if he gave us a chocolate.

Next year, though, I think we might name it the Easter Kiss Hunt.


What things do you do for Easter. I had a friend who made a huge adventure for her kids (and I’ll try to get her to write about it.)

As always, please share this on Facebook if you like it, or hit the follow button (which does not, contrary to popular myth, kill a unicorn somewhere.)



Posted in Blogging, Parenting, Stepdad, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Step-dad Adventures – Dodging the Last Bullet

confessionsI have a confession to make.

It’s not something I’m proud of. Like eating the last cookie on a plate. Or paying money to see the Battleship movie.

I managed to avoid volunteering for the last tourney.

Hockey at this age seems to be largely over in early March, except for the tournaments. But these things are elaborate events that need people. Like Soylent Green needed people.

The tournaments need people to run the 50/50 draws, man the raffle tables with baskets full of goodies, and, of course, operate the dreaded score and time keeping machines.

It’s a full court press. Wait, that’s a basketball thing. It’s ah… uhm… overtime with a man down and 5 seconds left on the clock? ????

Anyway, let’s just say they really need everyone to step up.

Ah, the things parents do for their kids. The Prettiest-girl-in-the-world decided to take on the raffles table. A good choice. There’s a hierarchy to these things. The raffle has to be at the top. You stand behind a table and take people’s money. I did that for years. It’s easy-peasy.

scoreboardAt the other end, is time and score keeping.


It’s hard. It’s complex. And unlike raffle-table-duty, if you make a mistake, everyone sees it. In older age groups, I’ve seen people get quite angry when the poor score keeper puts up 10 goals by mistake instead of 1.

Mad props to the people who volunteer to do that. Over the course of the year, we had two dads who did it every time. Every. Time. Wow. That’s some dedicated dads. I was proud of myself if I remembered to pack skates. Or wear pants for the 6am practices.

This time, though, I was volunteer-weary, having just come back from chaperoning The Oldest’s group at camp. So I did only what I usually do, I just dressed The Youngest in his goalie gear.

The funny thing is, I finally had figured out how to put on all his equipment properly. It figures that the last game I’d finally get it right, the pads, the skates, all the straps and laces.

Yup, I had it nailed down. I could get him ready in under 5 minutes. All that practice had finally paid off. It was almost too bad it was going to be the last time this season.

But I did my duty, got him ready and cheered him on. I confess. I should have done more. But for this tournament, it was all I could do.

One dad called it hockey-parent burnout.

I kinda get that now.

But when the other parents asked what I had done, I had to be all nimble and clever.

“So what did you get stuck with?”

Me: “Oh, I managed to avoid the scorekeeping cuz I would have probably been killed by a mob of angry moms who hated the fact their team got beat 100-2. What did you do?”

50-50“Ha, I got the 50/50 draw.”

“Oh my goodness, that’s not easy either, marching up and down the stands shouting, ‘give me your money, bitches, it’s for a good cause’. Did you have fun?”

“Someone put gum in the jar.”

“See, there’s always an asshat in the crowd. And, FYI, sorry about the gum.”

minionAh, deflection. I think I would have made a good master criminal. Or at least a mediocre henchman.

Next year, I’ll train harder, practice my 50/50 pitch and be better prepared.

Next year, I don’t want to let the team down.


And hey, if you like the blog or just want more pictures of minions, please click the lovely follow button or share on Facebook. :) Thanks!

Posted in Blogging, Hockey, Parenting, Sports, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Step-dad Adventures – The Last Day of Camp

evans lakeAfter another fitful sleep, I awoke bleary-eyed and groggy-faced to yet another beautiful day, not a rainy day, like was predicted, cuz that would have totally allowed me to be in a foul mood.

However, lack of sleep, coffee and a generally bad attitude made me give the day the finger, anyway.

However, it was the last day for all of us.

The counsellors told everyone there’d be something special today. I feared that they meant we’d skin a beaver or fight a bear or have to eat worms. The boys, however, were still pumped over last night’s triumphant skit, and hell, they’d made fire, shot arrows, navigated in the woods and canoed halfway around the world, so they had the swagger of kids who could do anything.

It was really amazing to see. It wasn’t just the boys in my cabin. All the kids seemed to have a swagger, like they had thrown the One Ring into Mt Doom. They all looked forward to whatever was thrown at them today.

IMG_6668The surprise turned out to be a hunt.

For 3 hours, we’d run around in the forest and hunt each other.

Perfect! The Hunger Games at last! And I could shoot a bow better than all of them. The odds were definitely in my favour.

But, no, sadly, it wasn’t quite that simple.

½ the class was divided up into prey, let’s call them squirrels. They wore an arm band with little blue flags. Their job was to eat stuff in the forest. Not literally, which would have been hilarious and most likely deadly, but they had to find more metal plates with food items on it.

Next were the lynxes. They could eat the squirrels. Then came the big cats. Cougars. They could both the lynxes and the squirrels. At the top of the food chain, was man. He could kill anything he saw.

For the hunters, they had to actually tag their prey, taking a flag from them. For man, all he had to point his gun and say bang, you’re dead. There were also disasters that affect the forest. Fires, floods, a crazy moose… you know, the usual stuff.

It was all one big game of tag, really. The kids playing either prey or hunters, the chaperons playing disasters. Was their a message there? I dunno.

elmer fuddI managed to snag the best job. Man the Hunter. I was the only one who didn’t have to run around and tag people. I think the camp counsellors looked at me and thought, damn, if we get that bugger running around too much, he’ll have a heart attack and die. Better give him a gun. Or maybe I was the most red-necked-looking one.

Well, being a hunter of all things chased that bad mood away. Nothing like shooting some kids in the woods to lighten the day up a bit.

Unfortunately, these kids were good at playing tag. Really, really good. I had to run them down even to shoot them and some of them were just plain sneaky, using slippery rocks and mossy trees to escape the expert marksman. A few even banded together to hunt as a pack – though I’m pretty sure I saw some squirrels working with lynxes so I’m not quite sure what was going on. Not that it mattered, I shot them all.

There was also one chaperon who played Greenpeace and if an animal made it to them, they were safe for a while. But being me, I just hung out and shot them as soon as they left Greenpeace. Apparently I couldn’t shoot Greenpeace – though I did try. A lot.

Sweaty, exhausted and constantly on the lookout for the mad moose who could actually kill me, I raced around like I was… well, let’s face it, like I was 50. Hey, I did my best, but running up a hill and down a dozen times chasing cougars, well that just takes it out of you.

The Oldest got to play one of the cougars. The teachers had made it so the, ah, ‘more active’ kids were the prey and the quieter ones were the hunters. An interesting social experiment if you ask me.

At one point, I managed to catch the speedy kid from the navigation exercise, but he had fallen on the ground and was holding his ankle. I didn’t have the heart to shoot him so he stumbled off into the forest just far enough so I couldn’t shoot him, then stopped faking the injury and ran away.

There was a lesson to be learned there, I think.

We all came back to count our trophies (or kills or foodie plates collected). Once again, victory went to the girls, two of whom seemed to have eaten an entire continent worth of squirrels. (Oddly enough, I hadn’t managed to kill either one, heck, I hadn’t even seen them.) Good for them. Future Katnissesses there.

squirrelsHowever, it’s too bad the squirrels weren’t allowed to fight back. That might have made things really interesting.

But everyone had a good time, even The Oldest who was not as keen on killing everything as I was.

Then we had lunch, packed up, stuffed 300 bags into a clean horse trailer, and walked back down to the buses. Not having to carry our packs and sleeping bags in garbage bags certainly made everyone happy.

I have to tell you, though, some of those girls packed some serious bags. They were the size of small elephants and weighed as about as much.

losing itOn the way down, however, I actually yelled at a kid. The first time I actually yelled. He’d thrown a foot-long piece of an iron beam at his friend. It was a dead stupid thing to do and came close to clocking the other kid in the head. I may have used the ‘F’ word. In fact, I know I did. There was probably a better way to handle it, but it just came out.

But other than that, I had survived the ordeal.

The Oldest, though, had not only survived, but had triumphed with an amazing skit that I will probably talk about until the day I die. He marched far ahead of me, joking with his friends, in need of no adult support at all. He’d been to camp, he’d overcome his fears and he’d kicked ass.

I was super proud of him.

Me, well, no one died on my watch. That was the bar I had set for success. It was hit and miss there for a moment that I wouldn’t lose one in the woods forever, but everyone made it back alive.

So I count this as a success as well.

However, I’m not sure I’ll do it again.

the horrorOh the horror, the horror.





Posted in Parenting, School, Stepdad, Travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment