What do the Yeti, the Loch Ness Monster, aliens, and time to myself all have in common? That's right. They don't exist.
Now, if you know my husband, you'll know that he believes in each of these mythical ideas, including the concept of "me time". Bless his heart, he means well. I love when he recognizes that I might be a little worn thin and takes the girls outside to play. He always comes back in the house later and, very proud of himself, proclaims, "Aren't you glad I took the girls outside? Did you enjoy your time to yourself?" Here, I have to smile appreciatively and say, "Yes. Thank you. I did enjoy that," while I'm really thinking, "Yes. Thank you. Catching up on the laundry was really fun, but I think I enjoyed emptying the dishwasher even more."
Even when I'm sleeping, I always have one ear open, for at any time Hallie may come downstairs. There is no such thing as "me time." Honestly, most days that's okay. I love my girls more than any mother has ever loved her children, and I truly enjoy spending time with them. However, some days, I would be exceedingly happy if they could just take care of themselves and leave me the heck alone.
Today was one of those days. I actually decided to make myself useful today and get a few things done around the house. I didn't have much to do, but when I get focused on a task, I don't like for my attention to be diverted. I started first by emptying the dishwasher. A 5 minute job, right? Wrong. In order to keep Leah from climbing into the dishwasher, I had to sit her on top of the counter while I unloaded. With her dirty feet dangling all over the clean dishes in my open dishwasher, I finally decided that might not be the best place for her. I tried just moving her feet, and then she started sticking her hands in there, touching every glass she could get her hands on. She tired of that after a few minutes and moved on to the sink to turn the water on and off. Of course, I had to put her back on the floor, but that only angered the beast, so she stood at my side crying and begging me to pick her up. Emptying the dishwasher one-handed takes a long time.
Next, I moved on to some laundry. As I sat in the floor folding clothes, the children decided this would be the very best time to play a rousing game of tag in the 2-feet of space surrounding me, effectively unfolding the clothes I had previously folded and carefully placed beside me. I don't like folding clothes once. I hate folding clothes twice. After I got most clothes put away, I moved on to some other task. After only mere minutes, I went back into Hallie's room for something, and discovered that she had tried on and discarded onto her floor at least four outfits. Yes, I put the clothes away. Now, please no lectures here about how I should have made Hallie come back in her room and put all those clothes away herself to make a point. I already know what I should have done, but I also know that, so far, 20 minutes worth of chores had already taken me over an hour, and frankly, I just wanted to get it done. There will be plenty of time for a teachable moment later. Not today.
Finally, after the girls ate lunch, I thought I was going to get one of those precious moments to myself. The girls ran outside to play, and I sat down at the kitchen table to eat my soup and read my e-mail (okay, okay I was totally checking facebook). I watched the girls playing together outside and smiled happily, relishing my moment of quiet. Until, of course, after about 13 seconds when the girls started fighting over a sand toy, Leah came in the house screaming, and Hallie came in after her telling me why whatever happened wasn't her fault. My quiet lunch turned into me eating soup one-handed while Leah sat in my lap sniveling, and Hallie booted me off the computer so she could play her Disney dress-up game.
The rest of the day was full of "get me juice," "get my blanket," "I'm hungry," "swing me," etc. I'm sorry to admit, I was more than ready for bedtime when it rolled around. I prompted the girls to run upstairs and put their pajamas on, and I would be up directly. When I got upstairs, I found two very naked girls in Leah's floor reading a book. Not exactly what I said to do, but close enough. At least they were upstairs in someone's bedroom, one step closer to being in pajamas. It's usually at this point in my day when I feel very fortunate and blessed to be the mother of these two amazing girls. Today, I just wanted those amazing girls to go to bed. We read our books, and I turned out the lights to sing them a song. I chose one of my favorites tonight; one that my own mother used to sing to me. I'd like to share that song with you now.
The cruel war is raging. Johnny has to fight. (Hallie, sit still.)
I want to be with him from morning 'til night.
I want to be with him (Leah, your blanket is right here.) it grieves my heart so.
Won't you (shhhhh) let me go with you?
No, my love, no. (I don't know why he won't let her go. Be quiet.)
Tomorrow is Sunday (No, not really, Hallie. Tomorrow is Tuesday.), Monday is the day
That your captain will call you, and you must obey.
Your captain (Where are you going, Leah?) will call you. It grieves my heart so.
Won't you let me go with you? (I told you I don't know why. It's just a song. Hush.)
No, my love, no.
I'll tie back my hair (Stop making that noise, Hallie.), men's clothing I'll put on.
I'll pass as your comrade (I said stop, Hallie.) as we march along.
I'll pass as your comrade, no one will ever know.
Won't you let me go with you? (If you don't stop, you're going to have to leave the room.)
No, my love, no.
Oh, Johnny, oh Johnny (Oh, nevermind. Just forget it! Get in the bed!)
Well, now the girls are in bed, and I'd like to think that I'm headed downstairs to have a little "me time." But as you and I both know, this is a mythical idea. It doesn't exist. I'm not even fully in the kitchen, and Kevin is already talking to me. At one point, he actually asks me the question, "What is your idea of a perfect husband." Right now, my answer? A quiet one.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Doing the Right Thing
It was always so simple for my Dad. Whatever the problem might be, the advice was the same. "Just do the right thing," he would say.
This is not good advice for a 5-year old. I know this because this is the advice I gave a certain 5-year old just today. It seems that "doing the right thing" isn't necessarily the same thing for a child as it is for an adult. For all of you who already knew this, congratulations. You have far surpassed me in your knowledge of children. It just sounded like such good advice at the time.
In my efforts to find that little gem of discipline that will finally work and encourage obedience every time, I go back and forth. I am, as you would say, both the good cop and the bad cop. I have been known to both spank and to give a motivational speech. Today, I chose a mixture of the two with less than favorable results. Being Tuesday, it was swimming day at Debbie's house in McMinnville. April and I packed our kids in my van, and headed out for a day of fun in the sun. Today was even a little more special because Brock and Hallie each had a friend along.
The good times always begin in the car. Today was no exception. Hallie was foul first thing this morning (never a good sign) and before we had even reached April's house, I had to pull over on the side of the road for a stern talk. Lame, I know. I should have just spanked her then and gotten it over with, but being the sensitive mother that I am, I was trying to spare her feelings in front of her friend (who was at the time the unfortunate brunt of Hallie's bad mood). That was mistake #1. Oh, I hoped that would nip the problem, but then again, I've been Hallie's mom for a while now, and I should have known better. By the time we got to April's house, you could just see the storm behind her eyes. My kids got out of the car for a potty break before heading to Debbie's while April and I loaded the car. We left all the kids alone inside. Mistake #2. Mere seconds later, we heard howls from inside the house. Apparently, Aida had somehow offended Hallie, who decided the proper course of action was to squeeze Aida's head. Really? Squeeze Aida's head? Naturally, I was provoked to exercise my superb parenting skills once again, so from my little bag of parenting tricks, I pulled out the spanking that I should have given her several minutes before on the side of the road.
There. That'll do it. Thinking that was mistake #3. More brooding on the way to Debbie's. This time her brooding was accompanied by taunts and smart-aleck comments (I truly do NOT know where that child gets that from...), and after much threatening by me (yet another award-winning parenting technique), we finally get to Debbie's. I think the gleam from the cold pool on this scorching day had a magical effect on her, and she suddenly became very agreeable. I call this the Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde Effect. Much fun was had by all for a good, long time.
Later, in the house, she decided that it would be a great idea to open the door on Brock's friend while he was using the restroom. Not so funny if you're a third grade boy at a stranger's house. Looking in my bag of parenting tricks, I find that now it's completely empty. I don't know what else to do. Until I remember my Dad's "Do the Right Thing" speech. I'm feeling good now. I know just what to do. I call her in, sit her down, and have the talk. It's a simple message, really. You know, the one where you just tell the kid what a good kid they are and that they know the difference between right and wrong. You encourage them to think before they act and then make the right choice. It's simple. It's true. It's genius. The only problem, as I stated earlier, is that it doesn't work on 5-year olds. Where is my evidence? Read on.
Allegedly, Brock pinched her under the water. Witnesses claim that they saw nothing, and the accused vehemently denied the allegations. The ruling of the court was that Hallie should stay away from Brock for good measure. Not finding the justice she sought, Hallie took the law into her own hands. I guess she was going to do what she considered the right thing. Pretty soon cries of, "Hallie pinched me!!!!" could be heard around the pool. Of course, I called her over and asked her why she did that. Her answer? Sit down, folks. "Dad said if anybody does anything to me, I should do it back to them." Dumbfounded, all I could think of to say was, "Your Dad gives really bad advice. Go sit on the porch until I tell you to get up." Moments later, I look over and she's sitting just off the porch, mind you, singing happily about the love of Jesus. Not exactly the kind of penance I was looking for.
Now, let me just say here that I LOVE this child with every fiber of my being. I could list a million strengths she has, but I told you when I started this thing that I was going to be brutally honest about the struggles I face as a parent. It's cathartic for me, so if you have it all figured out, keep it to yourself. I don't need that kind of pressure. Most days I'm just doing the best I can.
Both girls are spending the night away tonight due to an inservice I have in the morning, and in spite of a very long and trying day, one thing is for sure. I miss those girls. The house is too quiet, and somehow I miss every part of them. I am obviously a glutton for punishment.
This is not good advice for a 5-year old. I know this because this is the advice I gave a certain 5-year old just today. It seems that "doing the right thing" isn't necessarily the same thing for a child as it is for an adult. For all of you who already knew this, congratulations. You have far surpassed me in your knowledge of children. It just sounded like such good advice at the time.
In my efforts to find that little gem of discipline that will finally work and encourage obedience every time, I go back and forth. I am, as you would say, both the good cop and the bad cop. I have been known to both spank and to give a motivational speech. Today, I chose a mixture of the two with less than favorable results. Being Tuesday, it was swimming day at Debbie's house in McMinnville. April and I packed our kids in my van, and headed out for a day of fun in the sun. Today was even a little more special because Brock and Hallie each had a friend along.
The good times always begin in the car. Today was no exception. Hallie was foul first thing this morning (never a good sign) and before we had even reached April's house, I had to pull over on the side of the road for a stern talk. Lame, I know. I should have just spanked her then and gotten it over with, but being the sensitive mother that I am, I was trying to spare her feelings in front of her friend (who was at the time the unfortunate brunt of Hallie's bad mood). That was mistake #1. Oh, I hoped that would nip the problem, but then again, I've been Hallie's mom for a while now, and I should have known better. By the time we got to April's house, you could just see the storm behind her eyes. My kids got out of the car for a potty break before heading to Debbie's while April and I loaded the car. We left all the kids alone inside. Mistake #2. Mere seconds later, we heard howls from inside the house. Apparently, Aida had somehow offended Hallie, who decided the proper course of action was to squeeze Aida's head. Really? Squeeze Aida's head? Naturally, I was provoked to exercise my superb parenting skills once again, so from my little bag of parenting tricks, I pulled out the spanking that I should have given her several minutes before on the side of the road.
There. That'll do it. Thinking that was mistake #3. More brooding on the way to Debbie's. This time her brooding was accompanied by taunts and smart-aleck comments (I truly do NOT know where that child gets that from...), and after much threatening by me (yet another award-winning parenting technique), we finally get to Debbie's. I think the gleam from the cold pool on this scorching day had a magical effect on her, and she suddenly became very agreeable. I call this the Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde Effect. Much fun was had by all for a good, long time.
Later, in the house, she decided that it would be a great idea to open the door on Brock's friend while he was using the restroom. Not so funny if you're a third grade boy at a stranger's house. Looking in my bag of parenting tricks, I find that now it's completely empty. I don't know what else to do. Until I remember my Dad's "Do the Right Thing" speech. I'm feeling good now. I know just what to do. I call her in, sit her down, and have the talk. It's a simple message, really. You know, the one where you just tell the kid what a good kid they are and that they know the difference between right and wrong. You encourage them to think before they act and then make the right choice. It's simple. It's true. It's genius. The only problem, as I stated earlier, is that it doesn't work on 5-year olds. Where is my evidence? Read on.
Allegedly, Brock pinched her under the water. Witnesses claim that they saw nothing, and the accused vehemently denied the allegations. The ruling of the court was that Hallie should stay away from Brock for good measure. Not finding the justice she sought, Hallie took the law into her own hands. I guess she was going to do what she considered the right thing. Pretty soon cries of, "Hallie pinched me!!!!" could be heard around the pool. Of course, I called her over and asked her why she did that. Her answer? Sit down, folks. "Dad said if anybody does anything to me, I should do it back to them." Dumbfounded, all I could think of to say was, "Your Dad gives really bad advice. Go sit on the porch until I tell you to get up." Moments later, I look over and she's sitting just off the porch, mind you, singing happily about the love of Jesus. Not exactly the kind of penance I was looking for.
Now, let me just say here that I LOVE this child with every fiber of my being. I could list a million strengths she has, but I told you when I started this thing that I was going to be brutally honest about the struggles I face as a parent. It's cathartic for me, so if you have it all figured out, keep it to yourself. I don't need that kind of pressure. Most days I'm just doing the best I can.
Both girls are spending the night away tonight due to an inservice I have in the morning, and in spite of a very long and trying day, one thing is for sure. I miss those girls. The house is too quiet, and somehow I miss every part of them. I am obviously a glutton for punishment.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Battle of the Bath
If you have ever seen my children and thought that they looked, well, a little dirty, I can totally explain.
You see, I hate bath time.
I'll admit it - I don't necessarily bathe my children everyday. It is completely dependent on the level of dirt I perceive to be on them or the next day's planned activities. On those unfortunate days when there's just no getting around it, into the bath they go. It usually goes a little something like this:
I announce to the girls that it's bath time. I am greeted with cheers and laughter, since they love bath time (and have very short memories as to what has happened during every bath for the last many years). They go skipping merrily hand-in-hand to the bathtub, giggling and singing. (Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit here, but I'm trying to paint you a picture...)
It usually doesn't take long for the bubble to burst. I generally like to let them play for a few minutes before I begin the grisly task of washing. If they're not fighting over the toys, then they're having such a glorious time that they apparently lose all control of their mental faculties. This is usually when the splashing begins. I yell for the splashing to stop and furiously try to dry the water off the floor with the clean towel I had intended to use to dry them off with. They also like to fill up little bowls and place them on the side of the bathtub. 9 times out of 10, these little bowls get knocked off onto the floor, adding to both the mess and my frustration.
Now, if they're taking a bath in my bathtub, the problems only multiply. I have a huge soaking tub, and the girls love to take their baths in it. On more than one occasion, someone has "accidentally" pushed the button that activates the jets, and since I only fill the tub up to just around the jets, water is sent flying all over me, the floor, and the wall on the other side of the room until I can scramble to push the button to turn them back off. After I change clothes, a trail of wild laughter following me, I come back in to wash the girls. This is right where the fun stops. Hallie wants me to wash Leah first. Leah doesn't want to be washed at all, and scurries to the back of the tub where I can't reach her. I'm a problem solver, though, so I shed my pants and socks and climb in after her. Picture Leah running around the bathtub, me chasing her in a t-shirt and underwear, and Hallie yelling, "I'll save you Leah." Soaped up, a 2-year old is hard to hold on to. By this time, I'm sweating and the girls are crying because I'm no longer interested in taking care to keep water out of anyone's eyes as I rinse.
This is usually the point where I'm questioning the value of baths in the first place, and now that I'm thoroughly over this maddening process, I'm angrily ordering everyone out of the tub. I get out and dry off my legs (more giggles because, hey, what could be funnier than a mad mommy half-dressed exiting a bathtub?). While I'm drying Leah off, Hallie decides that what she needs is a little "saving" and begs me to baptize her just one time before she gets out. Because I know my Hallie, I know that this whole process will go a lot more smoothly if I just humor her, so I say those special words through gritted teeth, baptizing her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit while she dunks herself under. When she comes out of those holy waters, I'm ordered to clap and sing a chorus of "Jesus Loves Me," and by this time, I'm just hoping that the Holy Spirit will keep me from completely losing it.
I do love a clean baby, so just when I'm ready to admit that the whole chaotic process was worth it, it's time to comb hair...
Fresh off a bath tonight, I think we'll just stay inside tomorrow and not get dirty.
You see, I hate bath time.
I'll admit it - I don't necessarily bathe my children everyday. It is completely dependent on the level of dirt I perceive to be on them or the next day's planned activities. On those unfortunate days when there's just no getting around it, into the bath they go. It usually goes a little something like this:
I announce to the girls that it's bath time. I am greeted with cheers and laughter, since they love bath time (and have very short memories as to what has happened during every bath for the last many years). They go skipping merrily hand-in-hand to the bathtub, giggling and singing. (Okay, I'm exaggerating a bit here, but I'm trying to paint you a picture...)
It usually doesn't take long for the bubble to burst. I generally like to let them play for a few minutes before I begin the grisly task of washing. If they're not fighting over the toys, then they're having such a glorious time that they apparently lose all control of their mental faculties. This is usually when the splashing begins. I yell for the splashing to stop and furiously try to dry the water off the floor with the clean towel I had intended to use to dry them off with. They also like to fill up little bowls and place them on the side of the bathtub. 9 times out of 10, these little bowls get knocked off onto the floor, adding to both the mess and my frustration.
Now, if they're taking a bath in my bathtub, the problems only multiply. I have a huge soaking tub, and the girls love to take their baths in it. On more than one occasion, someone has "accidentally" pushed the button that activates the jets, and since I only fill the tub up to just around the jets, water is sent flying all over me, the floor, and the wall on the other side of the room until I can scramble to push the button to turn them back off. After I change clothes, a trail of wild laughter following me, I come back in to wash the girls. This is right where the fun stops. Hallie wants me to wash Leah first. Leah doesn't want to be washed at all, and scurries to the back of the tub where I can't reach her. I'm a problem solver, though, so I shed my pants and socks and climb in after her. Picture Leah running around the bathtub, me chasing her in a t-shirt and underwear, and Hallie yelling, "I'll save you Leah." Soaped up, a 2-year old is hard to hold on to. By this time, I'm sweating and the girls are crying because I'm no longer interested in taking care to keep water out of anyone's eyes as I rinse.
This is usually the point where I'm questioning the value of baths in the first place, and now that I'm thoroughly over this maddening process, I'm angrily ordering everyone out of the tub. I get out and dry off my legs (more giggles because, hey, what could be funnier than a mad mommy half-dressed exiting a bathtub?). While I'm drying Leah off, Hallie decides that what she needs is a little "saving" and begs me to baptize her just one time before she gets out. Because I know my Hallie, I know that this whole process will go a lot more smoothly if I just humor her, so I say those special words through gritted teeth, baptizing her in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit while she dunks herself under. When she comes out of those holy waters, I'm ordered to clap and sing a chorus of "Jesus Loves Me," and by this time, I'm just hoping that the Holy Spirit will keep me from completely losing it.
I do love a clean baby, so just when I'm ready to admit that the whole chaotic process was worth it, it's time to comb hair...
Fresh off a bath tonight, I think we'll just stay inside tomorrow and not get dirty.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Housekeeping, a nice, hot shower, and a bit of brutal honesty
My day began much like every other day this summer, with Hallie's subtle hints to coax me gently out of bed. "GET UP, MOM! Will you get me some juice and turn on cartoons for me?" Ah, good morning to you, too, Sunshine. Now, I've never been one to wake up whistling, but I've always tried very hard to put on my happy face and make nice for the kids. First impressions are important, after all, and I always want to set a positive tone for the day. So, I greeted her "enthusiasm" with a smile and a big hug. She returned my efforts with some comment about me needing to take a shower. People who say things like, "You've got to love the honesty of children" clearly don't have brutally honest children, or at least aren't the brunt of said honesty. Nevertheless, Hallie began the day in a good mood, so I had high hopes for a great day.
I wasn't disappointed. It was a great day! It was one of those days, though, where you feel like you moved around all day but when you finally look around, you can't see even one productive thing you actually did. My only real goal for the day was to clean the kitchen and straighten the den. Due to a variety of distractions, both self-imposed and child-created, this took me all morning. Leah did her best to help by starting the dishwasher (that was, incidentally, full of perfectly clean dishes), dusting the floor in the den with Pledge - lots and lots of Pledge (this created quite a treacherous pathway from my bedroom to the kitchen), and helping with the laundry (which was actually just her unfolding a bunch of already folded clean clothes). I finished off the morning with a nice, hot shower accompanied by the sounds of a chorus of angels singing to me from the other side of the shower door. Well, it wasn't exactly a chorus of angels. It was just one angel, Leah, and she wasn't exactly singing. She was screaming. Mad at me, of course, because I wouldn't let her in the shower with me. She tired of that after a few minutes, though, and ran off to find Hallie. After my shower, I found her playing happily in the backyard with her sister. Buck naked. Would've been better off letting her in the shower with me.
The day ended on a high note when Hallie proclaimed a great and noble truth. Her father had highly offended her delicate sensibilities when he ordered her to put on her pajamas for bed. I had already told her once to do it, and she was taking her time getting to it. When Kevin made his "suggestion" that she get a move on, she became very agitated and with a huff and a puff stalked over to me. Obviously exasperated with her Dad's attempt at controlling her, she loudly cried out, "Mom, he thinks he's the boss of this house!! YOU'RE the boss of this house!!" Ah, now there's some brutal honesty I don't have a problem with.
I wasn't disappointed. It was a great day! It was one of those days, though, where you feel like you moved around all day but when you finally look around, you can't see even one productive thing you actually did. My only real goal for the day was to clean the kitchen and straighten the den. Due to a variety of distractions, both self-imposed and child-created, this took me all morning. Leah did her best to help by starting the dishwasher (that was, incidentally, full of perfectly clean dishes), dusting the floor in the den with Pledge - lots and lots of Pledge (this created quite a treacherous pathway from my bedroom to the kitchen), and helping with the laundry (which was actually just her unfolding a bunch of already folded clean clothes). I finished off the morning with a nice, hot shower accompanied by the sounds of a chorus of angels singing to me from the other side of the shower door. Well, it wasn't exactly a chorus of angels. It was just one angel, Leah, and she wasn't exactly singing. She was screaming. Mad at me, of course, because I wouldn't let her in the shower with me. She tired of that after a few minutes, though, and ran off to find Hallie. After my shower, I found her playing happily in the backyard with her sister. Buck naked. Would've been better off letting her in the shower with me.
The day ended on a high note when Hallie proclaimed a great and noble truth. Her father had highly offended her delicate sensibilities when he ordered her to put on her pajamas for bed. I had already told her once to do it, and she was taking her time getting to it. When Kevin made his "suggestion" that she get a move on, she became very agitated and with a huff and a puff stalked over to me. Obviously exasperated with her Dad's attempt at controlling her, she loudly cried out, "Mom, he thinks he's the boss of this house!! YOU'RE the boss of this house!!" Ah, now there's some brutal honesty I don't have a problem with.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
The birth of a blog
It's 12:17 a.m., and I sit here in the dark on the couch with only the light from a muted TV to see by. I'm not sure why I'm still up, and I know I should go to bed, but the truth is I can't pull myself away from my computer. The house is quiet. Perhaps that's why I'm savoring this time. As anyone who currently has or has ever had small children understands, this is the only time that my house is without noise. Normally, a myriad of sounds may be heard: laughing, crying, yelling, singing, arguing, more crying... These are the sounds that, as a mother, I've learned to enjoy (and often ignore). With my babies in bed, I wonder if they're having sweet dreams, hope they're not too hot or too cold, etc. And I even look forward to hearing their sweet voices the next day.
That is, of course, until the next day. The sweet voices I imagined the night before become the cries and demands of reality. My reality: I'm raising children. And what a sweet reality it is!
After reading some on my facebook posts, a few people have suggested that I create a blog. I was very reluctant to do this because, honestly, I can't imagine why anyone would want to read what I have to say. In the end, I decided that it's okay if no one wants to read it. I've always loved to write, and I find it an excellent outlet, so I will write for myself, and if someone wants to read it, then that's a great bonus!
Be warned. I'm honest. My days aren't always easy, and those are probably the things I'll write about the most because those are the things I just have to get off my chest. Just know that, in my eyes, my kids are absolutely perfect in spite of (and sometimes because of) their "big" personalities.
In any event, if you do choose to read, I hope you also enjoy!
That is, of course, until the next day. The sweet voices I imagined the night before become the cries and demands of reality. My reality: I'm raising children. And what a sweet reality it is!
After reading some on my facebook posts, a few people have suggested that I create a blog. I was very reluctant to do this because, honestly, I can't imagine why anyone would want to read what I have to say. In the end, I decided that it's okay if no one wants to read it. I've always loved to write, and I find it an excellent outlet, so I will write for myself, and if someone wants to read it, then that's a great bonus!
Be warned. I'm honest. My days aren't always easy, and those are probably the things I'll write about the most because those are the things I just have to get off my chest. Just know that, in my eyes, my kids are absolutely perfect in spite of (and sometimes because of) their "big" personalities.
In any event, if you do choose to read, I hope you also enjoy!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)