Briefcase Mommy's blog

by Julie Chen Allen

Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays. The scintillating cinnamon scent of fresh pumpkin pie in the oven… The comforting warmth of cornbread stuffing infused with chicken broth… The incessant whines of spoiled little brats scraping against my eardrums… (Whoa, back up, what?!)

Ingratitude from the mouths of my own kids?! On the eve before the officially designated day of giving thanks? I was quite disappointed:

What’s another school year without a mother taking justice into her own hands?

Last month, a mom in Minnesota was banned from her son’s campus and bus stop for a whole year because she confronted two boys on her son’s bus who were allegedly hitting him. She went on the bus one day and told the two bullies to “keep your hands to yourself!”

Think it harsh punishment? At least she didn’t get arrested. You’ll recall last year a dad did the same thing, confronting kids on a bus who were teasing his daughter who had cerebral palsy. He got arrested and charged with disorderly conduct, false imprisonment, and disturbing a school function.

by Julie Chen Allen

In our household, we are constantly on the mission to find one thing: calmness. Not perfection, not peace, not white picket fences. Just calmness: in our minds, in our hearts, and in our actions. It is a never-ending journey.

Be it in the middle of chaotic clutter (soccer cleats on the dinner table counts), shrieking laughter and screams of joy (is that bouncing on our bed?!), or the marathon mania of NFL football (it is humanly possible for men to watch 12 hours of football in one sitting), I am seeking my inner calm.

by Julie Chen Allen

I used to rag on Moms who sat their kids in front of the screen. As karma (or irony, if you prefer) would have it, I became one of those Moms myself. Sort of.

by Julie Chen Allen

I flooded our new house today.

The discharge hose from the washer popped out of the drain hole and flooded my upstairs, soaking the carpets to slush. Before I knew it, soap suds bubbled through the floorboards and drizzled down onto the downstairs hallway through the light fixtures. Water bulged through the paint to form sacs like bullfrogs puffing out their throats.

by Julie Chen Allen

Tigers and Pandas and Parents, Oh My! As if it’s not already chaotic in the life of a parent, authors like Amy Chua and Alan Paul have brought yet more parenting ideas about which parents can think, question, and obsess. Should I make them wear shoes? Allow them to sleep over with friends? Let them sleep in or wake up on schedule? Attachment parenting or not? Put them in art, music, language, computer, gymnastics, and cooking class? This or that? Now or later?

by Julie Chen Allen

In an effort to move our kids to a better school zone, I’ve been trying to pinch more pennies for a new home. I guess I should have included my dear husband in the planning phase of this endeavor, but why take way the element of surprise in our relationship?

It first started with the thermostat battle. My hubby swears I set it on “hell”-degrees, but I swore I was freezing and promised it was only a couple of degrees higher. He wanted it on 78 and I pushed it up to 80. We compromised and settled on 79. A few weeks later, I raised it up to 81 and he wanted it on 79. We compromised and settled on 80. Those two little degrees saves me nearly $10 a month. Oh, my hunny bunny will sweat a little, but he’ll thank me a lot later.

by Julie Chen Allen

It’s no surprise that modern moms are juggling more and wearing more hats than ever before. Thanks to the Nielsen Company, we now have research to prove it. According to a May report from the Nielsen company, modern moms are really hard to reach.

I guess, if I don’t even have time to take a quiet shower (Mom, have you seen my football? Mom, he pushed me!!!! Nuh-uh, Mom, he pushed ME! Moooooom, why is the bathroom door locked?!!!), then clearly I do not have time to fill out a Nielsen survey.

Of

No, I’m not talking about my kids. I’m talking about all the little friends they bring home. You heard me: all their little infectious, contagious, communicable…friends. I’m talking about their germs.

Riding on my kids’ shirt sleeves, hiding underneath fingernails, and holding on to little nose hairs, those dirty little twirps sneak into my house and cause the most despicable havoc.

by Julie Chen Allen