I Waffle

I don’t usually post pictures of myself, but here goes…


I know, weird picture.

I’m a waffler. I waffle. I’m indecisive.

What the heck?!

Oooh, wait, here is a picture of me when I was pregnant with my first…


I’m glowing!

Anyways, I shouldn’t be so shocked at my tendency towards indecisiveness, really. Its not that I didn’t already realize that I was susceptible to waffling… I mean, just look at my high school yearbook picture.


Underneath all that hair I was a waffle even back then.

Before I had kids, though, whenever I thought of what my parenting style would be like (if I ever DID think about what my parenting style would be like) I never thought I would be a waffle-parent. I figured that I’d be more like  biscotti. Fun, but unbendable. Fair, but could snap if pushed too far. Strict. I didn’t think I’d ever waffle. I was biscotti all the way.

If I said “no”, that would be it.

The answer is no.

Don’t ask again.

If you ask again not only will the answer be “no” this time, but it will be “no” next time, too.

And I would totally mean it and stick to it.

My kids would be all, “Crap, she’s going biscotti on us. Time to reel it in.” Because my imaginary kids KNEW that I was NOT a waffler.

But my REAL kids? They can spot a waffler a mile away.

They are like, “Let’s keep asking her and asking her and asking her. She’s a waffle and she’s going to start waffling any minute now…”

How do you think it came to be that all five of them slept in my bed at one point or the other? Up until the moment I gave birth to the first one I was saying (and believing), “The kids are not sleeping in our bed. Ever.” Five kids later, yes no yes no waffle waffle waffle, and they were all sleeping in a big heap in our bed.

I’m pretty certain every single parenting book I’ve ever read warns against being a waffler. Like, big time. Which concerns me greatly…and if you are a waffler, you might be concerned as well.

But don’t despair, because here is where I want to tell you that, hey, you may tend to be a waffler, but as long as your partner is biscotti, it will be fine. You really only need one biscotti in the house, anyways. Two biscottis might be a bit much. So one waffle, one biscotti. Good stuff. With that being said…I would like to introduce you to my husband…


You can see the problem here, right?

Dammit! How is it that we are both waffles?

I knew that there was no biscotti on our team the very first time I heard myself uttering the phrase, “I don’t know, go ask Dad.” Only to be told that it was Dad who told them to come ask me in the first place.

If you have any waffle in you at all, you know how that goes. If not, let me give you a little sample of a typical two-waffle household:

Kid: “Mom, can I have some friends sleep over?”

Me: “No. Well, I don’t know go ask Dad.”

Kid: “I did. He said no, but told me to ask you.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. Well, then if he said no it is a no.”

Kid: “But he didn’t really say no, he said no but to ask you.”

Me: “Oh. I think it is okay, but if Dad says no then it is a no for sure. So no.

Kid: “Please?”

Me: “The answer is no. Except it might be yes. Let me talk to Dad.”

And then in the resulting conversation we realize that we both don’t care if anyone sleeps over, and at the same time don’t want anyone sleeping over.

SEE???? Waffles! Both of us! Yes, no, yes, no, I don’t know!

Just another fine example of how you think you know yourself until you have kids, and then…BAM, you find out that you are way more of a waffle than originally thought.

I’m trying to de-waffle-ize.

I really am.

p.s. In case you were wondering, I’d like to point out that I’m not a waffle in ALL aspects of parenting. Not at all. If I think that one or all of my kids needs protection (whatever that may look like) I DO have an inner biscotti that will knock your block off. Just so we are clear…


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