Mommy Bloggers

Do you ever wonder how you got here?

Today's blog is not so much about being a parent as it is about being a child. Or a grandchild. The way you are a child to your parents, though, can be an example to your children.

So, this conversation happened this week: Oldest Daughter: "I don't like chicken nuggets." Me: "Yes, you do." Oldest Daughter: "No, I don't." Me: "Yes, you do. You've never once said you don't like them" Oldest Daughter: "Yes, I have! I only like the other kind."

It's been one of those weeks. I seem to have a lot of those weeks, lately. And, as I walked out of the house totally annoyed and overwhelmed and feeling pulled in 15 directions, I rolled my eyes, hearing the familiar tone signalling an incoming text. What now?! I glanced at my phone, saw this meme, stopped in my tracks, snorted and then laughed like a hyena.

It seems like I've written this exact line 105 times. Boys are a whole 'nother animal. After I wrote just two short weeks ago about raising a husband, it seems I've got a long road to go before my little man resembles a gentleman, or from the way things are going this week, even a human. My sweet little boy has a new afternoon teacher at his daycare center and, from what I can glean, he's really b

Being teachers allows my husband and me the opportunity to stay home with our kids during the summer and the holidays. We've often commented on how blessed we are that we get to spend so much time together as a family. It truly is wonderful. Well, except for one thing... The mess.

The other day I saw a mother (about my age) peacefully milling about a local department store, her three children (about my kids' ages) obediently in tow like little ducklings.

I've said this before, lots and lots of times, but having a boy has taught me so much about men. Turns out, it's not their fault. They really were born the way they are. And men really are just big little boys. Or little boys are really just miniature men. Either way...

This past weekend we had a little visitor in our lives. The Oldest found a teeny, tiny, almost featherless baby bird in our backyard. He must have fallen from his nest. She saved him from certain death at the paws of one of our dogs. Her dad didn't want her to bring it in, but I convinced him otherwise.

You know it's bad when you haven't had time to get a haircut in seven months and you have to skip lunch to find the time to do it. Why is it when the going gets tough, we moms often stop taking care of ourselves to make more time to take care of everyone else? I mean, when you have to skip eating to do one little thing for yourself, that's about as oxymoronic as you can get.

Discipline could be the most difficult part of parenting for me. My husband and I decided when The Oldest was new and little that we wouldn't spank her. Time out would be sufficient for our little angel. Or a stern warning. We didn't need to strike her.

Last year I made the decision to use all natural cleaning products.  Maybe from spending too much time on Pinterest or maybe from seeing the grocery bill when I need more supplies, I am not sure.