Her hands have taken care of others for years. Now, she’s the one in need of care. (photo credit: jackchapman.info)
Today, I saw two helpless people, each unable to take care of themselves, each needing someone to nurture them, to love them. One was a preschool-aged girl, crumbled on the floor of her caretaker’s home, sobbing. Her parents had just divorced, and she just couldn’t understand why mommy left. The other, an elderly woman, delicate but healthy yesterday, suffered a massive stroke this morning, which stole most of what was left of her abilities.
Tonight, they’re both scared, both confused. Their worlds have been shattered. In different ways, but still shattered. The ask, “Why did this happen to me? Who will take care of me?”
They’re powerless over their situations. Both at the mercy of life’s caretakers. …
This was a GREAT suit for my youngest. Provided coverage, but allowed for easy diaper changes.
I’ll be the first to admit I don’t always make the healthiest parenting decisions. My kids probably watch too much TV (even if it’s educational, it’s probably too much), I KNOW they drink too much juice, and on nights that we’re really tired, get home late, or fall asleep on the couch, we don’t always brush their teeth before bed. So, before I get on my soapbox, let me assure you that I am not a perfect parent, by far.
That being said, there is one thing I pride myself on. Being a prude. Raising two daughters in this overly-sexualized world is tough, but I’m trying to navigate these waters the best I can. I’m not trying to keep them …
The power of panic comes in handy when cleaning for unexpected company. (From emptynest1.com)
This morning, I came to the conclusion that a little panic is good for us. Sometimes, we need a jolt to our system to kick ourselves into high gear, resulting in massive amounts of productivity in a short time. Case in point: this morning, I got a phone call from my dear aunt informing me that she’d like to swing by with my dear great aunt to see the house and see the girls.
Now, my initial reaction was pure delight. I absolutely love these women. They are warm and non-judgy and live life with a happy, helpful demeanor. My second reaction was pure panic. My house. Ohmygosh my house! It’s a mess. And not your typical mess. We had a crazy …
Father-daughter bonding time includes watching daddy prep for deer season. She was completely mesmerized.
“I launched my new blog today,” I told my husband excitedly when he came in the door from work. “Oh, good,” he said, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could. (Bless his heart, he’s a wonderful husband, but his world doesn’t exactly overlap with my world of online publishing.) Then, I saw a sparkle in his eyes. One that made my heart jump a little, hopeful that he was finally getting just as giddy as I am about this new web venture. “Guess what else happens today?”, he asked. “Deer season starts,” he said in a singsong voice.
Oh…that…
That time of year when virtually nothing, except his day job, can keep him from his deer stand. Not his loving wife and not …
Because even when you finally get their room clean, they have a mind of their own. Fact: you can’t get crap done with kids.
Hello friend. How are you? Tired? Overjoyed? Overwhelmed? Whatever you’re feeling, it’s ok. You’re not alone. Millions of mothers have done this before you, and there’s probably nothing you can throw at us that we haven’t heard before. And all those books you read to prepare you? They only tell about half of the story. Yes, they talk about dads taking turns “getting up with the baby during the night.” But you know what? Sometimes this doesn’t happen. Some men are just wired differently and can’t function the next day with little sleep. (Moms always can, even if we’re face-plant tired.) And some men can actually sleep through a baby screaming …
Just like any other American over a certain age, I can remember exactly where I was when the “world stopped turning” on September 11th, 2001. I was a senior in high school, and just starting my day in first-period home economics class. Lessons were paused. Mouths hung open. Tears started falling. Here, tucked away in the safety of the Midwest, the impact of what had happened in New York City shook even our tiny town. I can still remember a narrow-sighted boy from my class asking in disgust, “Why are we even watching this? It’s not like it’s going to affect us.” His words cling with me. How wrong he was. Not only did it affect us, and the world, but it affects our children.
When stepping out to take my daughter to preschool this morning. …