Sometimes Secrets Need to be Told.

Sometimes evil things happen in good towns, in pleasant neighborhoods, on quiet streets, in unremarkable looking brick houses.  I remember that day like it was yesterday.  I can still feel that pit growing in my stomach, the kind that starts small and builds as more information gets funneled in.  There was my child in his innocent voice speaking the most foul, dirty, and unspeakable things. Things that a little girl told him were being done to her, things that were a secret.  When I taught my child about Stranger Danger and Good Touch/Bad touch, I never imagined he would have to draw from that lesson, to filter through and determine if he could in fact keep that secret for her.  As I stood there looking at my sweet baby, disheveled from a day of school and play, who was blissfully unaware yesterday and today knew the evils in the world, I didn’t know what to say.  The thoughts, “Did he overhear something wrong?” , “Why did she choose to tell my son?”, and “Can I really get involved?” flew in and out of my head before I could finally get the words “We need to tell someone” out of my mouth.  Later that evening looking out the window to see a beautiful little girl playing in the yard with the neighborhood kids and then to watch her be brought back inside by the man who had supposedly done these unspeakable acts, CPS having come and gone, was sickening.

Two days, two days is how long it took before we watched him taken out in handcuffs.  Two days of reassuring a child that the girl would be ok, of wondering to myself if that were true.  It seems like a lifetime when you’re waiting to see someone so young protected from the vile acts that were recounted to you through the voice of your nine year old.  I watched as my little boy took on the role of an advocate and without hesitation retold the events to the school guidance councilor and eventually the state police.

A lot can happen in eight months.  Birthdays came, summer went, holidays passed by, all while the light stayed on in that now tainted brick house down the street.  Then there was a call, the one that came just as we, the bystanders, had put it behind us.  Just as, a now ten year old boy, had stopped asking “What ever happened to that little girl”, and “Why did that man still live down the street?”  It was the call that answered all of the questions and made me very proud to be the mom of a boy who refused to keep that kind of secret. 

While 15 years doesn’t seem like enough time, it was that plea deal that kept my child from having to testify.  I wonder if someday he will realize that he was the catalyst, the hero, that helped to stop an atrocity, save a little girl, and put a monster behind bars.  I hope all of you take away from this a reminder that we need to teach our children to be advocates for others that feel they have no voice. That we as the bystanders, neighbors, parents need to hold ourselves accountable, to get involved if something feels wrong.  Listen to your gut, listen to your children.  Encourage no boundary, no judgement, everything on the table conversation.  I still wonder what would have happened if my son had kept that secret or felt that I wouldn’t listen.  Worse, if I had ignored it.  But this situation has an ending that can hopefully allow that little girl to heal and to always remember that she was believed.

A Farewell my Beautiful Grandmother

I said goodbye to Grandma today and I had the privilege of speaking at her service.  I want to share with all of you my thoughts on this wonderful women who had such an enormous impact on my life.

“When I started out writing this, I had this brand new, pristine piece of paper, (hold up  paper) fresh, unmarked, pure and shiny.  But this here is what I ended up with, (hold up other paper) this wrinkled, smudged, and worn piece of paper.  It started out so perfect, but as I wrote, my hand smudged the words. When I didn't get things just right, I crossed them out and started over. Its tear stained in spots, messy in others, and I don't think I could think of anything better to represent a life well lived. So here it goes. 

‘You all knew Elizabeth (or Betty as everyone called her), as a friend, or a neighbor, a sister, a mother, or maybe you were just blessed enough to be touched by her very existence in some way.  She was someone I, along with several others, got the honor of calling my Grandmother.  Now I don't know the all the intimate details of her life before mine started, obviously. But I have heard many stories, most of them while sitting at her kitchen table elbow deep in some sort of canning concoction, pie recipe....perhaps while planting tomatoes in those little cardboard milk cartons.  I do know that she knew poverty, she knew sacrifice, she showed grace and kindness, and most of all she showed love.  She was the second born of nine girls, on a farm, my poor Papa.  But my grandma always said girls could do anything boys could do, only better, and she was taught that by her father.  Now one of my favorite stories was how she met her late husband Fred, my Grandfather.  She would beam as she recounted that blind date.  They went to the fair, her father had given her money if there was an emergency,  and she had made sure she had a rock in her pocketbook just in case.  I remember I always asked her how it ended and all she would say was, "well, we're together aren't we?"  So nearly 67 years of marriage, 6 children, 10 grandchildren, and 6 great-grand children later....I think we can assume she didn't need that rock. 

To me, my Gram was nothing short of a saint.  I have heard she had her moments, when in frustration she had told her kids she was leaving them and walked over the hill to her parents house just to escape the chaos.  My mom Judy, tells me it was pretty convincing to a five year old, and she cried and yelled at her older brothers for her now not having a mother.  Then there were the times that were familiar to me, when my cousins, my sister, and I would be so bold, well, mainly my sister Mandy.  Anyway she would end up being held in the chair (because she was too stubborn to sit there on her own) while the rest of us would end up standing in the corner with a mouth full of soap.  And I can't forget how I thought only a slave driver would make her grandchildren sweep the porch, dust the kitchen table set, or weed in the garden.  But looking back, those are the things that built our character, taught us boundaries, showed us that hard work was good for the soul...and ivory soap would not, in fact, poison us. 

My favorite memories though, are the small ones.  Being pushed on the swing-set, while my Gram would sing that song "Daisy, Daisy" or "You are my Sunshine" over and over again while the smell of fresh cut grass and sound of my grandpa pushing the mower hung in the air with the sun so warm it made the top of your head hot to the touch.  Going on walks down the drive way to get the mail and my grandma telling the dog to "sit" while she crossed the road to the mail box.  Or being taught to read with those "Dick and Jane" books and giggling behind her back because who one earth named their son that! And pretending to still be asleep when she came to check on me during my nap because I knew, she would pull the blanket off and cover me back up just right.  Then of course I don't think that there is a single one of us here that hasn't experienced being called the famous "Judy, Bonnie, Barbara" followed by a shlew of other incorrect names, before she got to the correct one, and then second guessed herself anyway.  

I can truly say that I have enjoyed all these years of observing what made her...Her.  That generosity she would show a stranger at the door wanting to sell her something, when she would invite him in for lunch (because we all know, she would never eat in front of company without offering them something as well), that compassion when any child put before her would get a hug and a kiss and be made to feel like they were one of her own, they were special, important.  That unwavering patience she would show to any situation that would drive most of us up the wall, absolutely insane, and of course that devotion that she showed to her husband, her family, and her faith.’

And so there I sat, my paper well worn, my hand sore from use, blackened by the ink that smudged along the way.  The story being written had changed not only the paper, but me, and now you for having heard it,  just like her in our lives changed all of us.  One of my Grandmothers frequent sayings was "It's hell to get old."  But I say, it sure beats the alternative. The end may have been hard, really hard, but her journey, her impact on our family, that was worth growing old for, and I hope, no I pray...that we all end up like this piece of paper.  Wrinkled, smudged, worn, and maybe even a little tear stained...because then, just like Betty, we all will have really lived.”

RIP Grandma
 April 3, 1927-December 26, 2017

A New Years Message

There are those that say New Year's Day is nothing more than a new date on the calender, that its silly to think this gives you a new beginning, a slate wiped clean.  But I am one of those that tend to see the possibilities in things.  An empty notebook, a clean sheet of paper, a chalk board unmarred, they are all things that give me such motivation, such promise.  They are symbols of what could be.  An endless opportunity to start a magnificent story, or to make a complete mess of things and then start again when the page is turned...like life. 

So therefore every year I have dutifully made my resolutions to lose weight, save more money, drink more water; all those mundane superficial things that really mean nothing. But this year I have learned a lot about myself, my relationships, my friendships, my job.  I have learned that I'm not always as kind as I could be and I am quick to judge.  I have learned that sometimes your marriage has to fall apart, before it can come back together.  I have learned that one of the hardest things in life can be accepting the ones you love will not live forever.  I have learned that a great new friend can be amazing for the soul.  I have learned that its never too late to pursue your dreams. 

So in this spirit, this year I resolve to be a better me.  To be a little more understanding, have a little more patience, to sometimes be the reassuring smile, or the kind gesture.  If we all resolve to make these little changes in ourselves every year, then each year becomes an opportunity to not only become closer and closer to the person we strive to be; but the community, heck even the society we all need.  That being said have Happy New Year and be safe. 

Judgement Free

It seems to be one of the hottest topics the last few years...gender identity and children.  I've read a lot of the articles, laughed at some of the crazy extreme stories, all while tucking away the important tid-bits into the back of mind to use as needed.  I've never had to really think about what would be socially acceptable with my daughter.  She likes all the stereotypically "girly" things, as well as a good dose of the less lady like stuff.  But no one looks twice at a little girl wearing jeans and a t-shirt, or riding a boys bike. 

With my youngest son I have had to take greater consideration in whether or not I should encourage, discourage, or just remain neutral on anything society would call a gender defining action.  From a very young age he has had little care for what is considered a girl vs boy activity, toy, or even clothing item.  I myself could care less.  If he wanted to dance around in princess clothes while digging his cars in the dirt, as long as he was happy, why should I tell him he shouldn't.  Isn't that what parents strive for?  Healthy, happy, well adjusted kids?  So neutrality has become my stance.

My family tells me it's because Luke's favorite playmate is his older sister.  I have, on several occasions, found them playing dress up together, both clad in fluffy dresses and high heel shoes.  He is the only one who will play house with her, or dolls, or do arts and crafts.  He loves to dance, and sing, and skip around, then run off on a Zombie Hunt with his older brother.  So I then think, he seems to be pretty neutral as well. 

I would say my first moment of question regarding the approach of "nothing is specifically for a boy or a girl"  happened while school shopping this fall.  My baby boy was now going out into the world of judgement, peer pressure, and bullies.  And what did he want to arm himself with for this first day of kindergarten?.....a blue glitter notebook with matching glitter pencils.  Once again, I personally, could care less.  But then the dilemma came to light.  Should I let him bring this to school?  Will he get picked on?  Will he feel bad about himself for liking this little insignificant notebook?  Will he then feel shame?  Shame.  One of the reasons I have remained so neutral on his choices over the years.  I never want my child to feel badly about himself for something that makes him who is. 

Then one day during soccer practice his cleats broke.   The only ones around that would fit him were pink.  What did he do?  He proudly laced them on, ran on the field, and exclaimed "Look everybody, I'm wearing pink cleats!!"  Then proceeded to kick his ball around, head held high with pride.  Its those moments that I think I must be doing something right.  That is my little boy out there running his heart out, clad in pink cleats, prancing down the field when he scores a goal, and he's happy.  What more could a mother want.  I'm not naive, I know that middle school could be cruel, and high school could be worse.  But I want him to go into it feeling confident in his own skin, and knowing that no matter what, his family is his judgement free zone.

My 10 Wishes for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day is just around the corner, so in honor of this special occasion, here is a list of the things I would like this year. (hope your reading this Honey!!)

1.) I would like to sleep in.  Really sleep in (with the door shut and LOCKED!!).  Not the kind of sleeping in my husband usually gives me on Mother's Day, when I practically have to push him out of bed to corral the house full of wide awake children running a-muck in the early hours of the morning because in my absence there is no one to appease their boredom.  Or the kind of sleeping in that came in the very early years of motherhood.  Where "sleeping in" meant my husband would go get the fussy baby, and wiggly toddler and put them in bed with us.  He of course would fall instantly back to sleep and I would lay there for the next 20 minutes with baby toes in my side or being asked repeatedly if it was "wake up time", only to finally give in and roll out of bed myself.

2.) I want everyone to dress themselves.  I mean I get it, I would love to have someone walk into my room in the morning and dress me like an overgrown barbie doll too, but come on.  If it were just daddy, those kids would be dressed and down stairs in no time flat.  Granted, my daughter would be miss-matched, my step son would be wearing boxer briefs because as he has told me "They are basically shorts"(....?!?!?), and my littlest son would have his pants and shirt on backwards and inside out, but the point is they would do it themselves.

3.) I want to shower undisturbed.  How nice it would be to not have the shower door thrown open every five minutes because my daughter is tattling, my son wants help putting his shoes on, or they want a different cartoon on the TV.  Daddy is on the couch, take it to him!

4.) I want to pee in peace.   I sometimes wonder if some sort of alarm goes off when I enter the bathroom, because every time, without fail, as soon as I drop my drawers and sit down, a child magically appears in front of me.  They will then always ask something very random that could have waited five more minutes.  "Mom, can we go for a walk after dinner?" or "Next year for my birthday, can we have a bouncy bounce?"  REALLY??  Its not really just the kids either, even the dog will come in and sit in front of me staring if I don't shut the door tight.

5.) I would like to sit through a meal (not made by me) and actually be able to eat it with everyone. This means: I don't care if I am eating blackened charcoal grilled cheese cooked by my husband. It will be the best blacked charcoal grilled cheese I have ever not had to prepare. My kids will get their own drink refill, not wait until I have finally sat down and put the first bite on my fork to pounce with the "I wants" (or better yet, they can GO ASK DADDY!). Not under any circumstance will I "hand feed" any of them because they have decided that regressing to an infant is the only way they will eat. If there is a condiment not on the table, I am not getting up to get it. Nor will I get up to turn on the light because the child asking thinks the Boogie Man will somehow grab them in the three foot distance between the table in the dining room and the light switch in the kitchen.


6.) I want an hour to read a book.  A very alone hour.  An hour that doesn't include a child crawling into my lap when I'm reading "Fifty Shades of Grey" and asking that I read aloud.  A magical hour where my kindle isn't scooped up if I put in down for a second, only to return to find said child seeing how many pages they can swipe through before I get back. 

7.) I want a day where every one's bodily functions are private.  I don't want to hear "Mommy, wipe me!" from my five year old, or "Oh my God Honey, look at this!" from my husband.  I don't need to know that my stepson's farts "smelled so bad at bed time last night" or that my daughter "blew a really giant booger."  If you're not going to die because of it, I don't need to know on Mother's Day.

8.) No means no. This applies to all situations on Mother's Day. No arguing, no whining, no crying, and no negotiating to get your own way. If I say no, just walk away. (This especially applies to any activities my husband thinks I would like to partake in after the kids have gone to bed.)


9.)  I want my kids go to bed and stay there. For once just as I sit down to relax, I don't want to hear a child jump out of bed. Which would usually my oldest because he needs a drink, a drink he didn't need 2 minutes ago when I asked before he got into bed. Then my daughter sees her brother wandering around and of course comes to investigate why. This now reminds the youngest that he needs Mommy to lay with him for "two minutes", so I am now beckoned back up the stairs. Of course after telling them all to get back into bed, my daughter needs another hug, my stepson is ninja fighting with his stuffed animals on his bed, and the little one is crying because Mommy is still not laying with him for "two minutes". This circle of events can take up to 30 minutes to subside. All the while my oblivious husband is downstairs relaxing in front of the TV. On Mother's Day...Daddy can put the kids to bed!

10.)  I want my children to know how much I love them.  This one speaks for itself.  Everyday, from now until I no longer walk this earth, and even after....they are the reason I breathe, the beat of my heart, every wish on every star, my motivation and inspiration, my first thought in the morning and my last when I shut my eyes, my reason to be.  And if having another 60 imperfect Mother's Days means we get to spend them together...I'm okay with that.

 

Pretty

I didn't have a "fancy' or "girly" mother growing up.  My mom preferred jeans to dresses, motorcycle meetings to sit down dinners, and camping or fishing to laying on the beach and getting a tan.  It was I, who taught her, how to put on make-up and style her hair.  She focused her parenting energies more on the academic and athletic aspects of my adolescence.  I on the other hand, was a "girly" girl.  But because I didn't have much guidance in that area, I turned to magazines and other forms of social media to tell me how I should look and act. 

My mother let me, she really didn't know any better.  She didn't realize just how much a young girls sense of self image can be warped by obsessing over stick thin super models airbrushed to the nines.  So now that I had my own daughter I wanted to make sure she knew just how beautiful and perfect she was, how to do her hair, dress up, feel fancy, and to prevent her from ever thinking she wasn't good enough in her own skin.  Then the other day I was reading one of her class assignments, and I realized my approach had severely backfired.  It started out fine.  She listed her name, her favorite thing to do, her favorite color, and then came the very open ended fill in the blank; "People say I'm _________"  and scrawled in her little hand writing was the word "pretty".

This innocent little word was like a punch to the gut.  I turned the word over and over in my mind, "pretty"...yes, she is pretty, beautiful in fact.  But she is also smart, funny, charismatic, a loving sister, always willing to help, kind hearted, the list goes on and on.  But out of everything, she picked "pretty".  In my efforts to prevent her from ever feeling like I did growing up (and still do at times), I had put no emphasis on her other attributes.  What did this say about me as a mother?  I should have seen this coming.  Watching a six year old posing in front of her mirror in five different outfits before she will leave the house, should have seemed odd to me.  But I just thought it was cute.  Having to talk her out of a crying fit because her hair didn't look "just right" should have been a red flag.  But I just thought she was being moody.  Catching her trying to go to Sunday School in full face make-up, should have made me question the message I was sending her.  But I just thought she was being creative. This realization is extremely humbling.  Instead of raising my daughter to value everything about herself, strengths and weaknesses alike, I have taught her that in life, she is "pretty". 

She's a child.  She is suppose to get dirty, and look unkempt from time to time. She shouldn't care how she looks, not yet anyway.  I know this isn't something that can be changed over night.  But my goal is that I will tell her something positive about herself everyday that isn't related to her appearance.  Society puts too much emphasis on outer beauty as it is, I shouldn't be feeding it as well.  I want her to grow into a strong, intelligent, self sufficient woman that knows she is more than just a face, that what's on the inside matters even more than what's on the outside.  I want her to see herself that way I see her, the way everyone else sees her for that matter, as a little girl that makes the lives brighter of everyone she touches because of who she is, not what she looks like.

Random Act of Goodness

If you are reading this, perhaps you are one of my followers. Maybe you stumbled across this post by accident, or maybe, just maybe....you are someone who has benefited by a Random Act of Goodness.


I have always dreamed of making a difference.  I've never cared how, whether it be brightening someones day or changing someones life.  It all matters.  Every act of kindness in this world matters, it makes a difference, it doesn't go unnoticed.  So in the spirit of the season of giving I have come up with my "Grand Plan" so to speak.  A chance to start a movement......Random Acts of Goodness.
So here goes.  I am going to start giving out Random Acts of Goodness and I challenge you to do the same.  Now this can be as little as letting someone who is in a hurry in front of you in line at the grocery store, or as big as buying a family in need Christmas presents for their children.  It doesn't matter what it is, like I said, It ALL matters!  Here is where the "movement" part comes in.  I am now asking you to print out the following slips of paper (right click the photo, and hit print), cut them out and keep them on hand.  When you perform a Random Act of Goodness, simply give a slip of paper to the person when they thank you.  Or if its not face to face, somehow make sure they recieve it.  Then come back to this post and comment in the comments section that you gave out a "Random Act of Goodness".  You can go into detail and say what you did or just leave it short and simple.  If you have recieved an Act of Goodness, please comment below that you have done just that.  My goal is to get at least 100 people who have gone out of their way to make a difference.  Please help me to do this, please pay it forward.

Confessions of a Soccer Mom/Coach

I just recently finished coaching my daughter's soccer team.  I'll admit I wasn't going in blind, I coached her Spring league last year so I at least had that under my belt.  Although what a difference a season can make!  When I say that I mean last season the kids were a little older, most of them already having played the previous Fall.  But this season, coaching 4,5 and 6 year olds (most of which had never played before), was certainly an...experience.

I only had six kids on my team, two girls, and four boys.  How do teachers do it with a room full of children??  I had one boy thinking he was playing tackle football, one boy (the biggest one I might add) afraid of the ball, one boy who spent more time laying on the ground than on his feet, and another that literally said "No." to everything I asked him to do.  I did have one very sweet little girl who was the youngest on the team who did everything that was asked of her, never cried when she got ran over, and was not afraid to try to steal the ball from even the biggest of players.  Now my own daughter...I will brag a little bit.  She is fantastic!  Really she is, she has so much potential and scored the majority of our goals.  But that is when she wasn't on the sidelines crying because "Mommy was playing with the other kids." or flipping cartwheels down the field, or wanted "Uppy Mommy". Seriously?? "Uppy"?!?!  I would leave wanting to pull my hair out, and then cringe because 90% of the time I was strapping the worst behaved one in the backseat of my car.  That was just practice.

Since my husband usually worked the night shift on Friday I would have to bring my whole brood to the games on Saturday morning.  I will give you a play by play of my typical experience with that whole mess:

"We arrive at the field, FINALLY, because Alex (my stepson) 'Didn't want to go to a stupid boring soccer game' and had to be dragged out the door..yes, me dragging and almost 9 year old boy kicking and screaming and stuffing him in my car!  And of course we can't forget that in the mean time Luke has sat in Jaid's car seat and even though they are basically the same thing, the princess cannot allow such an atrocity to take place. So they are slap fighting over me while I'm wrestling Alex into the middle seat belt.  After hauling Luke out of Jaid's seat, football carrying his squirming body to the other side of the car, buckling him in and sitting in my own seat, I hear "Mommy, you didn't buckle me", come out of Jaid's mouth (in her typical "tudalicious" tone).  I want to say "Are you freaking kidding me? Your six years old, stop being such a baby and buckle yourself."  But none of us wants to hear the cry fest that would ensue after that, so I reach around and do it myself.  There you have it, what should have taken five minutes has now taken twenty. 

So, YAY, we have made it to our destination!  Everyone piles out of the car and runs away leaving me to carry, the two folding chairs for the boys (which they won't sit in anyway, but God forbid they don't have the option), Jaid's drink (because she always forgets to grab it), a sweatshirt for everyone, and my own bag.  I go and drop those by the field and head off to get the balls and goals.  This is usually where my kids once again realise I exist and all come running so they can be the one to carry the ball bag or the goals.  And here comes the fight...three kids saying "gimme gimme gimme" and only two things that need to be carried.  Where were you all again when we got out of the car?  I could have used your hands then.

If you have ever set up a "pop up" goal you know what a health hazard it can be.  Pulling one out of its bag is the same feeling of anticipation you get when awaiting a Jack-in-the-box.  Never quite sure when its going to explode open because the person who used it last didn't secure it properly.  So its more like, pull it out real slow and careful, and then throw it and get out of the way!  By this time the other players have arrived, dug into the bag of balls, and are strategically kicking them at my head while I'm trying to post the goal to the ground.  While the team we are playing against are doing cute little warm-up drills on their side of the field, we are dribbling the balls around in a chaotic mass which I just chalk up to an obstacle course and make sure that every now and then they shoot the ball at the goal.  I don't want to embarrass myself by trying to be assertive when I know that at 9am, my team is waaayyyyy too hyper it even attempt to listen to me.

Now its game time!  Oh wait, I forgot that I have two boys running around somewhere in the vicinity and I try to pick them out.  You know, make sure they haven't killed each other.  They are ALIVE!, the game can go on.  So now I have three kids on the field, at least one of them whining because they wanted to play with the kid who is sitting on the sidelines, and at least one kid on the sidelines whining because they wanted to start.  I have learned to IGNORE this.  So the other team starts the ball, dribbles it two feet, just to have Jaid steal it, bring it down the field and score.  I know I should be proud, and I am, really I am.  But, after this happens five times in the first ten minutes of the game, it gets a little old.  Especially because she knows she's good, doesn't want to pass the ball no matter how many times I tell her to, and on several occasions has stolen the ball from her own team mate. Oh yes, we can't forget the show boating that comes after each goal when her Dad is there.  Where she runs off the field and he launches her into the air holding up the entire game.  I can see it now....the kid will be 16 still running off the field so Daddy can toss her in the air.  I want to crawl under a rock.  Eventually I have to pull her out of the game to give the other kids a chance...on both teams.

This is usually around the time when I hear Luke screaming bloody murder because he got creamed by Alex in the game of Tackle Football I told them not to play.  So they are sidelined for the remainder of their sister's game ( I knew I brought those chairs for a reason).  Oops, eyes on the game coach....someone other than Jaid actually has the ball, and they are dribbling toward the wrong goal!  Good thing we don't keep score.  On it goes "Stop laying on the ground.", "No pushing.", "We're not doing gymnastics out here.", "That person is on your team.", "Ewwww, don't wipe your boogers on them!"(true story).  And finally its over, kids scattering to their parents, just so I can gather them together again to line up and give high fives to the other team, but only after the arguing of who gets to be the leader this time.

I think I'm more exhausted than the kids are.  Packing up is just as bad as unpacking.  Fight over who gets to put the balls and goal away, but no one can carry our 'stuff' back to the car.  Now Jaid sits in Luke's seat to "see how he likes it", Alex doesn't want to leave with out buying candy from the snack place, Luke's mad because he didn't get to play in the game.  I JUST WANT TO GO HOME!!!  I feel like having a tantrum myself, but no, I'm the grown up."

There you have it...."A day in the life" so to speak.  So please, when you think your kids coach is cranky, or distracted, or just not doing a good enough job, just remember....they are doing the best they can.

  

I Have Been Linked!

So I'm still fairly new to this whole blogging thing and I often look to my good friend Sarah and her blog http://applepiespice.blogspot.com/ for tips, ideas, or just a good read.  While stalking her page today I came across her newest blog about a "Linky Party" where she has linked up with Mrs. Lemons from http://stepintosecondgrade.blogspot.com/ where you "Link Up" and tell all about the quirky little things that make you, you.  So I thought, now this could be fun and I joined in on the action.  So here goes.

1) I speak redneck.  By this I mean anything ending in "ing" is cut to "in", "you" often becomes "ya", instead of "get" I say "git", I condense several words into one, where "what are you" becomes "whatcha" and so on. I find this very irritating, and sometimes embarrassing  but I can't help it when I get talking too fast.



2)I love peanut butter.  I can put it on almost anything including hot dogs, bologna sandwiches, and cheese.

3) I am very girly, but my mom is not, so growing up I was taught how to ride a dirt bike, fish, camp in a tent, pee in the woods, change the oil in my car, shoot a gun, built forts, catch snakes and frogs, and go "night crawling"(hunting for worms at night).

4) As a kid, I was the fat friend.

An 8 yr old version of myself.

5) I used to have a really bad lisp which I have for the most part corrected over time, but you will never hear me say the title to the movie "The Sixth Sense"....I just can't do it.

6) I am obsessed with my giant, butt sniffing, drool flinging, constantly shedding, Newfoundland dog.  My husband swears I love that dog more than him.  I'm going to say its a tough call...lol.

Me playing with my puppy

7)I own my own cupcake business http://www.nicoleshouseofcupcakes.com/, but I have made so many cupcakes and cake pops now that the thought of actually eating them makes me gag....although they are very tasty!!!

Some of my creations. 

8) I am one of those parents that think they have the cutest kids in the entire world....only I secretly think its because my kids really are the cutest kids in the entire world!

9) I pledged a sorority in college where I had to do so many other people's dishes by hand that it cured me of my "dishwater" phobia.  I used to not even be able to put a dish in the sink for fear it would get wet and then have "dishwater" on it.

10) I have a love affair with my Kindle and I love, love, love, to read cheesy romance novels...even better if they have vampires, trolls, werewolves, zombies, angels, or any other supernatural main characters.  May I recommend "The Hollows" #1 and #2, the "Blood Like Poison" trilogy, the "My Blood Approves" trilogy, the "Trylle Trilogy", the "Tale of Lunamorte" trilogy, and of course the ever so popular "Twighlight Trilogy" and "Hunger Games Trilogy".

11) I have a gazillion cable channels but only watch HBO because I can't stand commercials.  With the exception of watching "The Walking Dead" on AMC.



12) My kids don't know the real ending to "Hush Little Baby"....I never had the heart to tell them "...down will come baby cradle and all."  So I say "...Mommy will catch you cradle and all."

13) I have a little bit of OCD when it comes to washing my hair, for some reason I absolutley CANNOT rinse it unless ALL the soap or conditioner has firsted been rinsed off of my hands....even though I'm just going to get them all soapy again when I touch my head.

Well I guess thats pretty much my quirks in a nutshell...I'm sure there are more, but I those alone are enough for you to think I'm crazy.  So now its your turn...go to http://stepintosecondgrade.blogspot.com/, and check out what this "Linky Party" is all about.



A Dedicaton to Those Gone too Soon

When you're a child, it often seems as though your entire life is a blank slate filled with unimaginable promise.  You daydream, you are inspired, you plan out your entire existence, and then change your mind and plan it out again.  You are young, untouchable, infallible.  In no ones plan do they play the part of, the "one", the "statistic", the "life cut too short".  Then it happens, that one incident a little too close to home where your ignorance is lost and you are now in a world where you are no longer immortal.

 I spent the last few days looking through some old photos.  You know, the ones where you are hugging your friends, laughing with care-free abandon,  the world is still your oyster, life is blissful.  And while flipping through I saw the faces of those that will be forever young in my mind, the faces of good friends, the faces that were my "reality check".  They paid the price, so I could learn the lesson.  Not a very good trade off if you ask me. 

So here I am, reminding all of you that there are no guarantees in life.  Do not take it for granted.  A life wasted is a slap in the face to those that lost theirs before they really started living it.  Love with everything you have and remind those closest to you everyday just how much you love them.  Take chances IN life, but not WITH your life.  Forgive, forget, move one...grudges take too much energy.  Never be too proud, or too scared to call your parents if your in a bad situation...no matter how old you are.  Don't accept anything less then what you deserve, life is too short to settle for less.  And always, always, appreciate the life you have because if fate had fallen differently, it could have been you.

Rest In Peace

Forever in our hearts.

4th of July Fun

As I think back on my childhood, I have a lot of good memories of special outings I went on with my parents.  Disney World, the Great Escape, camping, fishing, the beach, and the list goes on and on.  It truly was an "Ignorance is Bliss" experience.  I never knew the stress that came behind the scenes.

My husband and I decided to take the kids to Lake George for the 4th of July.  We spent the first hour there mini golfing at the Pirates Cove.  Luke and Jaid both made a "hole in one" and were super excited!  Although after the first swing they both seemed to go into "hockey" mode and pushed their ball into the hole with the club rather than putting it.  Then they would jump up and down, give us all a high five, and ask if there was a "next hole". ("Worth it" moment #1) Jerry even seemed to be enjoying himself and announced after the 5th hole that he would no longer be keeping score because he was kicking all of our butts.  Which was completely true, I am terrible at Mini Golf and even the kids were beating me on most of the holes.

After golf we went for ice cream where both of the kids had to get theirs in a cone even though they don't eat the cone and always end up asking for a spoon. (Which of course was true in this case as well)  At this point Jerry was starting to get antsy because the kids were getting restless and it drives him absolutely CRAZY not having them seated and well behaved.  So lets just say that he is crazy all the time..lol!  Then 2 ice cream stained,chocolate smeared cheeked children later, we were off to our next adventure. Which was the Haunted Wax Museum.  Jaid was very excited for this and put on her brave front, even asking to be lifted up if there was an exhibit she couldn't get a good look at.  While poor Luke whined and held on to Jerry for dear life through out the entire place.  At one point Jerry even thought Luke had peed himself!  Luckily he hadn't.  But all Jaid talked about for the rest of the night was how she wanted to go back through, and could we do it again next time. ("Worth it" moment #2)

By this time is was getting later and we wanted to get a good spot for the fire works, so we made our way back to the beach.  We had parked our car in one of those $10 for the day spots and Jerry walked back to get our chairs and blanket.  Several cart wheels, hand stands, bug searches, and photo shoots later he finally  returned.  It probably only took him about 20 minutes but anyone who's had to entertain a 4 and 5 year old, with nothing other than a camera, knows that can feel like a lifetime.  So now we are set!  The only problem is, it's 8:30 and the fire works don't start until 9:30.  I will fast forward what happens until then... whining, "I Spy", crying, catching bugs, Jerry is CRAZY, Jaid steps in dog poop, glow necklace ring toss, more whining, playing puppies, wrestling, screaming, Jerry is SUPER CRAZY, eating brownies, eww there's a bug on me!, "Simon Says", now the kids are fighting , mommy is mean, Jerry is going to BLOW!!!, oh look the fire works are starting. Phew!  Now I have never seen my children sit so still for such an extended period of time, they did not move an inch for the entire show, except to clap their little hands with delight. ("Worth it" moment #3)

After it was all over we packed up our things and made the trek back to our car.  Packing in the kids we start to notice that everyone is literally pulling from their spot and going for the exit.  Of course in a parking lot with 1 exit and about 300 cars, this is not working and the gridlocked mess that is happening is just insane.  So after sitting in one spot for about 30 minutes we decide to look for a different way out. We followed a car that has pulled down a section of fence.  Yup, we were "those people", but so was everyone else once they saw what was going on and now traffic was gridlocked in 2 places but luckily we were out!  So we think we caught a break.  Oh we are so silly.  Lets just say after an hour and a half of Jerry cursing, complaining, blaming me for wanting to come, swearing we would never do this again, and then some more cursing because he ran out of chew....we were finally on the high way headed home.  Did I mention I had to pee since before we got in the car?

But as I put it to him, we have to make memories for the kids.  The end of the day was really crappy but up until then it was really nice, the kids had a great time.  Through all the standstill traffic, and "venting" as I'll call it, the kids were blissfully sleeping in the back seat, completely unaware anything was amiss.  Which I am positive was the case when I was a kid, when we were all kids.  Just because it's easier to stay home and do nothing doesn't mean that that is the way to go.  So in the end I think the headache of it all was worth it. And when my kids are grown with families of their own, they too will know what goes on behind the scenes of all their treasured childhood memories.

The Little Things

Watching the simplicity of my children playing outside in the beautiful weather we had this past weekend really had me reminiscing about my own childhood.  So I took some time to reflect on the little things that I really missed about being young and carefree.

20 things I took for granted as a kid :

1) Running barefoot through the grass.
2) Catching frogs in a pond.
3) Building forts in the woods.
4) The "Magic Mommy Fairy" cleaning up after me.
5) Having someone to do my laundry.
6) Riding in the car and not having to pay attention to where I was going.
7) Having no responsibilities other than existing.
8) Playing "Hide and Seek" in the dark.
9) Sleepovers
10) Going to the "Drive-ins" with my Dad.
11) Going camping every weekend in the summer.
12) Swimming in my Grandma's pool.
13) Believing in Mythical Creatures
14) Living in the middle of no where.
15) Riding a dirt bike.
16) Seeing my best friends everyday.
17) Believing in magic.
18) The healing power of a "kissed boo boo".
19) Catching fireflies.
20) Not caring if my hair was brushed when I left the house.

I'm sure I could sit here and think of 20 more things I miss about being young.  That is why I keep telling my kids to cherish everyday and stop wishing away their youth, adulthood comes too fast and there is no rewind button.

Mom, I'm Bored!

I seem to have been stressed to the max this last week with the kids being on Spring break.  Not that I'm with them all day long, no, I get to kiss my desk every morning.  But going home to a messy house, 3 bickering kids with a lot of pent up energy, and 110 lb puppy who is just as excitable, has really brought me to my boiling point.

 But nothing seems to have irked me more though than the phrase, "I'm bored".  When it comes to "things", my kids are spoiled.  They have a Playstation2, a Wii, a DS, rows upon rows of movies, 700 cable channels, rooms over flowing with various toys and games, a walk in closet dedicated to arts, crafts, and coloring supplies.  Then we go outside and find a basketball hoop, a two story clubhouse, a sandbox, every different kind of ball you could imagine, bicycles for everyone, sidewalk chalk, bubbles, and the list goes on and on.  But I still get an "I'm bored". 

When I was young I was not allowed to have video games, playing outside if it wasn't below freezing was mandatory, chores were a daily activity, and the 2 channels that "sort of" came in on the TV weren't worth watching.  When I had children I had decided I didn't want to turn out to be a "mean parent" and make my kids do the mundane things I found to be "dreadful" or "boring" or deprive them of anything I had wanted as a child.  But I see now that those things are necessary for shaping ones character.  I have turned my children into lazy, snotty, little brats, that think the world should be handed to them on a silver platter, and have no idea how to use their imaginations! 

How will I fix this?  Well, I do have a plan.  The "Mean Mommy" shall surface and rooms will be cleaned out, video game and movie stock piles will be depleted, chores will be assigned, TV will be limited, and if I hear the words "I'm bored" they will be scrubbing the floor with a toothbrush!  I know, I am a big talker, and when it comes down to it, it will probably be more of a gradual work in progress, yes, my finger are crossed for progress.  

 My children have been too sheltered and spoiled, and its time to actually do something about it.  I'm sure they will enjoy the fishing, camping, and hiking trips my husband and I have planned for this summer.  And they will detest the chore charts, reading time, toy elimination, losing privileges for bad behavior, and my personal favorite "soap in the mouth" for bold words, that is also on the agenda.  If there is anything I have learned so far, its that parenthood is an ever evolving journey, and no one can do it perfectly.  That sometimes its OK to be the "meany" and have your kids say they hate you because they can't have what they want.  In the end I wasn't put here to be their "friend", I am their parent, their role model, the one who is ultimately responsible for who they become, and it's time I put on my big girl pants and started acting like it!

So I guess I will keep you all informed as to how this one goes........Wish me luck!!



Cutting the Cord

My baby boy is growing up.  Now when I say "baby" I use the term loosely, as he will be four in May.  But there is just something about letting the last one go that I am totally unprepared for.  Perhaps it's because as I am making the final curtain call on my baby days, my closest friends are just entering theirs.  Or maybe its the feeling of no longer being completely depended upon, or even the thoughts that time is just going by too quickly.

With my daughter, I rushed her through her baby days after my son was born.  I didn't have the time or the patience for two kids under two and thats just what I had.  By the age of 2 1/2 Jaid was dressing herself with little help and just about potty trained.  She walked on her own two feet when we went places, had to ride in the back of the shopping cart, and I often asked her to help me out with small tasks.  When bold, she was put in Time Out and forced to sit at the dinner table until her vegetables were gone.  But she was happy being the "Big Girl" and liked to do big girl things. 

Luke, well lets just say he has gotten to be a "baby" alot longer.  Being the youngest, both my husband and myself have always gone easiest on him, didn't expect as much, or push him as hard.  To say he is spoiled would be an understatement.  Looking back I realize this has hindered him far more than helped him.  He just recently finished his potty training, still has no clue on how to dress himself and no desire to learn, throws a tantrum at dinner time when there isn't something he likes on his plate, and usually doesn't get punished until he's on his third "last chance".  So for my own selfish reasons I have been, in fact, harming my child by not preparing him for the real world.

This must change and slowly I have been taking the steps to let him go as a baby, because if I really admit it to myself, he has even surpassed the toddler stage.  It's time I "cut the cord" so to speak.  He is completely capable of putting on his own shoes, he does not need me to carry him through the parking lot, and no matter how much he cries and carries on cookies are not a suitable breakfast food.  Just because he will always be MY baby, doesn't mean he has to BE a baby.  So as I say goodbye to my last "Little One" I will embrace the Big Boy who will emerge in his place.  There are many more wonderful milestones still to come, and I will enjoy everyone of them.



I've Let It All Go

I woke up Monday morning feeling refreshed.  Tuesday I felt light as a feather.  Today, as though each breath was fresh spring air.  I couldn't figure it out, couldn't quite put my finger on it, until just now.  I realized that I have let it all go.

When I say this, I mean I have finally stopped living in the past.  I realized that I had been walking through life only half in the game, longing everyday to take back those "missed opportunities", and "could have beens".  But who says that it ever "could have been"?  Who says that if I had taken a different path in life somehow it would have turned out perfect.  I could be living a completely different life and wishing for the things I have now.  Three happy healthy kids, a husband who (although has his faults) adores me, a faithful family dog, a house with a yard...hell, I even have a white picket fence!  These things don't come to everyone, some would even say that I am living the "American Dream", and yet somehow, someone as unappreciative as myself, ended up with this life. 

 I am seeing my life through new eyes which, I know, is such a cliche, but that's the only way I can describe it.  I don't know how it happened, or exactly when it happened, but I am so glad it did.  I am the only one who has been making me miserable.  Don't get me wrong I have always loved my children and husband, but I was ignorant enough to think that my life wasn't good enough.  I my not have seen all the things I have wanted to see or done all the thing I have wanted to do, but who has?  I'm only 28, I'm not dead!  I can still go out and have my adventures, only I will be able to share them with those I hold so dear....my family. 

So now that I have this new outlook, this wonderful feeling of rebirth, what will I do with it?  I will bask in it, I will share it, I will put forth my efforts on the here and now.  The is past is gone, it cannot be changed, only learned from.   There aren't any "could have beens", not anymore, not for me.  Changing my past regrets doesn't mean that I wouldn't have made new regrets.  I am sure in the future I will still make mistakes, have new trials to over come, and yes regret some of my decisions.  But for now, I am going to enjoy the present, let the past be the past, and just let it all go.



Everytime I Think About it, I Laugh.

Over the years I have always been so amused with some of the thing that has come out of my daughter's mouth.  Just the way her little mind works, or the way she takes things so literally at times cracks me up.  So I thought I would share with you some of comments that she has made and why they make me laugh every time.

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At 18 mos old I decided it was time to potty train my daughter.  I bought her the potty, the pull ups, I mean we were ready to go!  The first morning of our endevor she woke up with a dry diaper so I figured this was as good of time as any to get started.  When I told her to sit on the potty and try to go "pee pee" she did without hesitation.  I clapped and cheered, which she got the biggest kick out of.  She then looked up at me with determination in her eyes and said, "I go again Mommy."  A moment later her little face fell, and she was ever so disapointed when stated very matter of factly, "Mommy, it broken." 

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When my daughter was very young, she and I would always play the same game in the car to keep her occupied.  Everytime she closed her eyes I would act all worried as though she had disappeared, and say over and over again, "Where are you?", as she giggled non stop.  Then, of course, when she opened her eyes again, I would act so very relieved.  One day while playing this I asked, "Where are you Honey, I can't see you?"  and she ever so cleverly replied "Mommy, I'm hiding in my eyes!"

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When I was growing up my grandmother was a stickler for never "taking the Lords name in vain".  So I figured it couldn't hurt to bestow this same value in my children.  I made sure to always correct them if they said "Oh my God" to say "Oh my gosh".  My daughter really took to this and I rarely had to correct her.  At around age 3 she was out on the porch with her grandmother.  There was a beautiful windchime that the two were admiring.  I was watching through the glass so I couldn't hear what they were saying, but my daughter was getting very excited.  She soon came skipping in through the door and came right up to me exclaiming "Mommy, gosh is talking to me!"  I started laughing and went out to ask my mother in law what my daughter meant.  She explained to me that she had told my daughter that every time the windchime chimed, it was God talking to her.

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A while back my then 4yr old daughter asked me how babies got into a mommies tummy.  Not wanting to give her "the Talk" that young I told her what I was told around that age.  That when 2 people really love each other and want a baby, they ask God.  I then added my own tid bit about how God then takes a little bit of the Mommy and a little bit of the Daddy, mixes them together to make a baby, and puts the baby in the mommy's belly.  She seemed to be completely satified with that answer and went on her merry way.  Not that long ago, now at age 5, my daughter asked if her stepfather and I would ask God for a sister for her.  I explained to her that we couldn't have anymore babies because just like a doggy would "get fixed" her step father was fixed.  So then remembering back to what I had told her she then said, "Well I love you Mommy, I'll have a baby with you." 

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I hope I made you smile and please feel free to share some of your own stories in the comments section!



Ok...I'll say it, "Mom.... you were right"

The very phrase "Mom, you were right", makes me cringe internally.  It's the words I always vowed would never cross my lips, and the one sentence my Mother has been waiting with bated breath to hear.

As a child, as most kids do, I idolized my Mom.  She knew everything!  I could ask her anything and she always knew the right answer.  As a teenager all that went out the window.  This was the time in my life that I was convinced I was a genious!  My mom was old, out dated, and most of all Stupid.   How on earth did she know what it was like to live my life?  How could she possibly know anything about anything...I mean come on, she's a  Baby Boomer for goodness sakes.  None of that could compare to the life experiences of a 16 yr old.  Or so I thought.

So here it goes..."Mom, you were right."  It did not kill me to have only three TV channels and no video games, as I claimed it would.  In fact, it forced me to use my imagination, to get off the couch and venture outside, to discover and learn new things.  "Mom, you were right."  My friends didn't think less of me for not having brand name everything.  It taught me to appreciate when I am able to buy nice things.  "Mom, you were right."  I was not completely shattered beyond repair after my first heart break.  There really are "other fish in the sea".  "Mom, you were right."  Having a part time job in high school was actually good for me.  It taught me the value of a dollar.  "Mom, you were right."  Moving out at 19 and working a full time job while going to school did make my life alot harder than it had to be.  I could have saved myself alot of time and money if I had listened to you and lived at home while I went to school.  "Mom, you were right"  I do see everything differently now that I am a parent myself, which has enabled me to finally say the words, "Mom, you were right." 

But unfortunately life is full of these lessons that we have to learn for ourselves.  No matter how many times I was told what the end result would be, I refused to listen, and usually still do.  Now raising my own children I understand the infuriating frustration.  No matter how many stories of "been there, done that", I relay to them, they look at me as though I am a complete idiot.  So they too will, (as my mom likes to put it), "Touch the stove, when its hot.  Even though you just told them not to."  They will have to live and learn as we all have, and one day I hope to hear the words as well, "Mom, you were right."

My Mom

         The "Yeah Right" face my mom got ALOT!

I Was Nominated?!?

One of my bestest friends, and fellow blogger Sarah, has nominated little ole' me for the Versatile Blogger Award!!  Not only that but if it wasn't for the inspiration I got through reading her fabulous blog http://applepiespice.blogspot.com/ (a must read) I wouldn't even have been opened up to the wonderful world of blogging.  So thank you from the bottom of my heart!  You truly are a great friend. 

So here goes....
Now as the rules go after (1), thanking the nominator and (2),posting a link to their blog I am (3) to tell you about 15 of the blogs/bloggers that I follow or have discovered. Unfortunately since I have 3 young children, a full time job, a dog, and a husband I don't have that much free time.  So I will list the 3 that I do follow and the 4 that I have recently come across. Here they are in no particular order.

http://applepiespice.blogspot.com/ 
http://speakerspeakingincode.blogspot.com/
http://awinsomejourney.wordpress.com/
http://www.thefarmchicks.typepad.com/
http://www.raisedincotton.typepad.com/
http://diyhshp.blogspot.com/
http://smashedpeasandcarrots.blogspot.com/

Next (5), I am to tell you 7 things about myself.  Well we all know how much I like to hear myself talk so :

1) I am obessed with cheesy vampire romance novels.
2) I believed in the "Boogy Man" until I was 16.
3) I learned how to ride a dirt bike when I was 7, and I still can.
4) I was an a teenager before I knew milk was an option on cereal...but I like it better dry.
5) I think my house is haunted.
6) If left unchecked, I would become a hoarder.  (I have trouble throwing away ANYTHING!)
7) I could eat pizza every meal, every day, and never get sick of it.

Well thats all folks,  and once again, thank you Sarah!

My Perfectly Imperfect Children

From the time I found out I was pregnant until my children were born, I spent months planning their lives out for them.  I would imagine what they would look like, how they would act, their interests and dislikes.  Boy was I in for a reality check!

As far as looks were concerned my daughter set the bar pretty high.  She really was a beautiful baby, even as a new born.  So you can imagine my reaction when my son was born and he was the wrinkly, alien looking thing, that is more often the norm.  I remember lying there on the operating table (I had him cesarean) and seeing him for the first time.  I hate to admit it, but the first thing that came to my mind was, "Really?? That is not what I expected."  He did however become very adorable once he filled out, his eyes stayed uncrossed, and his blotchy rash cleared up.

My daughter 1 day old

My son 1 day old

My son looking much more adorable

Personality wise, my sweet baby girl was nothing like I had planned.  She was suppose to be polite, cheerful, outgoing...you know, sugar and spice and everything nice?  I was so naive I want to laugh at myself.  Not that my daughter was an evil toddler, she wasn't.  Although, she was whiny and could turn on tears like the flip of a light switch.  Instead of being out going she was clingy, and the only person that "Her Majesty" would allow do anything for her was, of course, Mommy.   She had also inherited her father's temper and my stubbornness, a lethal combination for any parents' patience!

My daughter "painting"

With my son I had less expectations in advance having learned previously from my daughter.  He turned out to be a sweet and loving baby, but apparently he didn't understand the concept of "crying it out".  He could cry for hours if he was upset about something the only thing that calmed him down was being held.  Where my daughter loved to be sang to, my son gave me a complex.  Even as an infant he would start crying when I sang to him at night.  When he got older and I would sing fun songs in the car, he would start screaming "NOOOO, Dop it Momma!!!!"  I was, however, lucky that my son could occupy himself for long periods of time while my daughter needed constant intereaction.  On the other hand, things that came easy for my daughter such as language, my son struggled with.  At eighteen months old we had him evaluated for speech and in a pride swallowing moment, I had to admit that he would need special education services.

A very happy go lucky child.

As they got older I would often worry: Did I have the only five year old little girl with the attitude of a 15 year old diva?  Or was my son the only three year old that carried his sippy cup around like a security blanket, whose matchbox cars had the personalities of people, and used the "D" sound to start every word?  But as my children have grown into the little people that they are today, I have grown as well.  I have realized that no ones children are "perfect", especially mine.   It no longer matters to me that my son needs extra help with words and learning, I'm just happy that he is healthy and that there is a system in place to help him.  I have learned to sit back and take a deep breath when my daughter is upstairs having a tempur tantrum so explosive, that pictures start falling off the walls downstairs. I know I'm not the only one out there with a drama queen for a daughter.

My son in his sister's heels.

My daughter the "Diva"

 As life goes on I have come to terms that they may not become anyone close to who I had planned for them to be.  The best I can do for them as a parent is support them in their endevors. Yes, this means even when my three year old son puts on his sister's tutu and prances across the floor exclaiming "Look Mommy, I a Princess" I will be there to help guide them when they ask, and put in my two cents when they don't.  To love them, no matter what, because if I don't stick with them through the bad times, I can't appreciate the good times.  Most importantly try to stay sane along their journey to adulthood, as the saying goes "Grandchildren are Gods reward for not killing your kids!".

The moments that make it all worth while!