Is it really so wrong that my three-year old son thinks his antibiotic medicine is peanut butter-flavored? That I, his mother whose duty includes teaching him right from wrong, has informed him of this, even though the medicine is actually that orange-flavored thick-coated stuff?

So I’ve lied. But it’s a white lie so it can’t possibly be so bad. Right?

Twice daily for 10 long days, as prescribed, I’m not having to force medicine into a clamped mouth while jousting the flailing appendages of a determined preschooler. My request is being met with “oooh, I like the peanut butter kind!” and a little mouth agape like a baby bird!

Before I do penance, I must confess that I’ve told my children, those same headstrong and impressionable young offspring of mine, white lies on more than a few occasions.

I’ve actually lied a lot.

White lies have informed the kids that the ice cream parlor is suddenly “closed” when proven inconvenient and that the computer “isn’t working” five minutes before bath.

Remember your Mom telling you if you eat spinach you’ll be as strong as Popeye? I just happen to stick in “tomorrow” for added enticement.

This week my first grader shared with her teacher how “Leo is our second Beta fish. Our first one missed his friends at Petco so Mommy returned him while I was at preschool.” Her teacher’s knowing glance was met with my impish shrug.

I didn’t have it in me to share with my little girl then that her fish died (Mom’s a fish killer!). But since then we’ve grieved over the loss of our beloved old cat, shared concern about Grandpa’s declining health, packed food for the hungry, and donated nearly new items to the needy.

My little white lies add convenience to small matters. And only small matters. Life’s harder truths are addressed openly and yes, honestly.

So, is it so wrong to lie that medicine may be peanut butter-flavored? That dinner is usually almost ready? That “we’re almost there!” at our destination when we’re actually not? I need a reprieve once in a while from the truth and frankly my Santa believing, tooth fairy anticipating kids do, too.

By Maija Threlkeld

Labels: cat, grandpa, lying, Maija Threlkeld, medicine, Santa, tooth fairy

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My husband has taken the kids camping and left me to have a precious twenty-four hours to myself.

It is a gift.

I walked them to the SUV, gave kisses and hugs and waved as the car descended down the hill. Then I opened the gate, skipped down to the house and ran inside.

I noticed something unusual.

Quiet.

I liked the sound of it.

I checked e-mails without fear of being interrupted.

I read four stories online in The New York Times.

Four!!!

Then I felt guilty. The running To Do List in my head noted we were out of everything: paper towels, napkins and, perhaps more importantly, dinosaur chicken nuggets, my daughter’s sole source of protein. It looked like I’d have to go to Costco.

Just the thought made me tired so I decided to take a nap -- because for once, I could. As I walked to the sofa, a thought occurred to me – you’ve been given a present – open it.

Costco could wait. Suddenly, I was no longer tired, I was energized! This really could be all about ME, instead of Mimi, Jay and John.

I love them beyond human comprehension, but sometimes the requirements of family can be taxing. Sometimes, I just need time alone.

I changed course and drove to the DVD store. I luxuriously walked from one end of the store to the next without having to go to the children’s aisle first.

I could get an adult drama. Capote. I could get a comedy. The Squid and the Whale.
I felt like the little parent who could.

John had given me this gift once before. Then it was for two days. I remember the first twenty-four hours I was giddy with freedom. By the second, I couldn’t wait for them to come home.

I knew then that my single days were over. But I could pretend now.

I popped in the first DVD. With my cat curled in my lap, a blanket swathed around us, I would enjoy this private time.

By Dawn Yun

Labels: By Dawn Yun, Capote, cat, DVD, family away, free time for mom, husband, movies, quiet, THe Squid and the Whale, time alone

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