I loved this moment. Ria goes all in, and An is forced to join her. And she’s better off for it.
Scrolling through my Facebook feed this morning, I came across a video several friends had shared. They used words like “awesome, cute and joyful” to describe it, with no warning that it would make me cry fat, rolling-down-cheek tears. But how could they have known? Rarely do I know when something will stick me between the ribs, grasp my heart and force me to pay attention to some God-ordained message. This morning, sitting in my rectangular living room at the edge of my rectangular state, I was opened up wide, my tightly-secured gates blown from the hinges. And out they ran. My white-eyed wild emotions, penned up for too long.
I’ve been very open in …
She gripped her Abby Cadabby tightly before, during and after the show.
I have a funny to story to tell. About a time my husband and I were driving two girls home. They were laughing and carrying on like crazies in the back seat. Giggling uncontrollably and speaking incoherently. And then, they had the nerve to ask us to pull over on a dirt road in the middle of the country so they could pee. Can you believe it? Well, I can. Because it was last week. And it wasn’t a couple of drunks. It was our daughters, buzzing on a sugar rush after ingesting cotton candy and snow cones. I looked at my husband and laughed. As tired as we were, and as annoyed/amused I was at my daughters’ behavior, I knew this was …
When momma loves herself, daughter will follow.
Patterns, habits and long-term environments mold so much of who we are, but I’m convinced simple little encounters are powerful enough to change our outcome–for better or worse. Like this morning. As I was stepping out of the shower and scurrying to the bedroom to get dressed on time, my 4-year-old daughter made a comical observation. Giggling and wide-eyed, she pointed her little bird-like finger and said,
“Momma, your bottom SHAKES when you walk!”
Now, I could have responded with embarrassment, frustration, anger, or any combination of negative reactions. After all, as women we’re trained by society to do anything but embrace the jiggle. We’ve come so far with encouraging acceptance of fuller figures (and still have so far to go), but we rarely talk about the movement of these …
This coffee cup (a favorite gift from my husband) pretty much says it all.
God rest my father’s soul. He always told me he would disown me if I ever drank decaf coffee, had a fake Christmas tree, or drank Dr. Pepper. (He said it was for “liberal college weenies.”) He was totally kidding (except maybe not about the Christmas tree), but I have to admit I felt disloyal to my family when I decided to quit my caffeine habit a month ago. When my family gets together (on both father and mother’s side), there’s a steady stream of coffee to be found nearby (and beer if you’re with the right crowd). But my health has been dismal for the past six months, and I was desperate to try nearly…anything.
My anxiety was derailing my already …
Was that really a piece of dog hair embedded in dried snot on my child’s face? Yes. Yes it was. Unfazed, I reached up and pulled it off, and then thought I’d better clean that snot off, too. Gross. Only, not gross. Just normal. It’s weird how normal gross things are when you have kids. I’m nearly immune to the smell, texture and sound of bodily fluid as it drips, squirts and flies out of my children. Motherhood. Is this all?
I can still remember when my first-born nephew was around 18 months old (that would have made me 6 and a half). He was eating a cupcake (or something white, I can’t really recall). He had a smudge on his face, and my sister casually reached over, wiped it off with one finger, and licked …
“Thwack!!”
My heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sound. Had something hit the window? A bird, maybe? No, not a bird. A mirror. The driver’s side mirror to be exact. It had popped loose from its frame and had swung by its wire up to the window, giving it a loud smack. Thump. Thump. Thump. It bounced off the door as I rattled down the washboard road. I could hear my oldest daughter’s voice, although she wasn’t in the truck with me yet. “Mom, someone needs to fix this road!” They sure did. But it still served its purpose. Busted, not broken. Unlike the mirror, which hung like a eyeball from a socket, unable to see. But it wasn’t the bumpy road that caused the mirror to come loose. It was a …