Fact: If I didn’t have kids, I probably wouldn’t celebrate Halloween. But, because I don’t want them to be social anomalies, I’ll put them in costumes and parade them around town to gather some sweets (which I admit, I’ll sample from). But seriously, why is this “holiday” such a big deal? I’m just not a fan. I mean, like every kid, I loved Halloween when I was a tot. Who wouldn’t love piles of Sugar Daddies, Starbursts, and the ever elusive Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups?
My dad always took us trick-or-treating, and I have fond memories. I’m not sure why my mom never went. Maybe she stayed home to pass out candy? But we lived out in the country, so probably not. Maybe she, like me, wasn’t a fan …
“Hi. My name is Catherine. I am nine years old.”
I glanced nervously over at my big brother, his grin both mischievous and proud. “Keep going,” he mouthed. I held the crayon written paper up in my shaking hand.
“This is my favorite radio station. Can you please play Achy Breaky Heart? It’s my favorite song.”
The dee-jay’s booming laugh bounced off my ear through the beige phone. “Shouldn’t you be in bed little girl?”
I threw the phone to my brother, the spiraled cord catching right before it hit his hands, sending it bouncing to the orangeish-brown carpet and sliding right back to me.
“Um…I guess so.” I somehow found the nerve to keep talking.
“Well alright. But after it plays, you go …
It’s 3 a.m. Do you know where your children are? Mine are upstairs in their bedrooms. One sleeping soundly. The other in the throes of a full-blown tantrum, beside herself that I’ve finally stopped giving her milk at night. It was a bad habit. One that needed to be broken. And as much as it breaks my heart, and hurts my ears, I am grateful. Each scream is a blessing. Each cry is reminder that she is here. She is alive.
Somewhere, not too far from here, in a linoleum-floored hospital room, a mother holds the hand of her young daughter. She is dying. Cancer has wrapped its treacherous tentacles around her …
The first time I took my preschooler to a movie at the theater, it wasn’t exactly relaxing. I mean, she was being a typical three year old, fidgeting in her seat, making a few loud noises, and just generally having a bit of trouble focusing the whole time. Still, it was worth it. Besides, I know she’ll outgrow these behaviors as she gets older. And everyone seems to understand when a small child behaves this way.
But what if your child always struggles with behaving in a movie theater, or anywhere for that matter? What if your child has special needs? Does this mean your family isn’t able to enjoy the magic of the movie theater? Must your child be kept from enjoying the same feature films their normal ability siblings are? Not anymore. At least …
Guest post from fellow blogger Barnyard Barbie. (She’s good people so go check out her blog!) I’ve got a big box of apples that I’ll convert into this yummy cake very soon.
When Cat posted the yummy pic of these apples and asked for our favorite recipes, I just had to share mine! I trade my farm fresh eggs for fresh-off-the-tree apples and pears from a local producer (it’s a great trade). So I tend to have a lot of recipes that use apples and pears. Here is Apple Butterscotch Cake…and it is delicious!
2 cups sugar
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp soda
1 tsp salt
2 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp …
“I apologize, but this just has to be said. “you suck!” can you tell I’m super jealous?!”
This was the comment from a dear friend on a Facebook status I posted this morning. Granted, my original status was a little Pollyannish, “Brr! Cuddling under a blanket and movies are on our agenda. Really loving my job today! ;-)”
You see, I feel like I’ve been complaining quite a bit lately about this SAHM gig. A preschooler who escapes from her carseat and sinks her teeth into your forearm while you’re driving down the road will do that to you. (This was after her cowgirl boots were chucked at my head.) It was a bad day. But they’re not all bad days. Like today, for example. I felt like I needed to share some of the good moments …