Adventures In Motherhood

“What’s up with the Easter Bunny this year?” my 15-year-old asked, fishing a latex condom from his Easter basket. Its black wrapper read Lifestyles, vanilla , and sat between the Sour Patch Bunnies and Reese's Pieces, nestled inconspicuously in the Scooby Doo basket. Then he pulled out two more: strawberry and fantasy. Feigning surprise and a hint of embarrassment, I couldn’t help but add, “Who knew the Easter Bunny practiced safe sex? Have you seen all those rabbits hopping around?”  I took a quick sip of coffee to conceal my smirk. Admit nothing, deny everything, and make counteraccusations has always been my tradecraft, former CIA operative or not.  “Where’s the Magnums?” my son asked, as he fished for more loot at the bottom of the basket.  Shock at the size of his vocabulary, not the girth of his imagination, made me up the ante.  “Guess the Easter Bunny doesn’t want you screwing like rabbits!” I said deadpan, which was more G-rated than the profanity-laced rema...

This past Easter Sunday I was reminded of a less than stellar parenting moment from 2008 when we visited my brother's family in Chicago. With three small children under the age of four, we embarked on another unforgettable Forced Family Fun (#FFF) vacations. I'm quite confident that following our Easter escapades, my brother and his wife had second thoughts about expanding their family of three! Living in Colorado at the time, it was an adventure to fly to Chicago, where we resided during the 'honeymoon' phase of our marriage, post-college and pre-kids. Enjoying museums through the eyes of children was a surreal experience as we had finally arrived mature, responsible adults, rather than audacious adolescents of a decade prior. Feeling nervous as we entered my brother's pristine Chicago bungalow, with cream colored oversized chairs and neutral area rug, I somehow knew it was only a matter of hours before my children would leave a ruinous thoroughfare of destruct...