Our shining star. (Name and happy face compliments of mom.)
If there’s a part of my stereotypical “at-home mom” job I’m failing, it’s the not-so-fine art of crafts (or “crappy crafts” as affectionately called by a friend of mine). You know the kind, cheap, chintzy and usually adorned with some kind of edible item (macaroni noodles, beans, o-shaped cereal).
There are three reasons why I’ve hardly pursued crafty activities since I’ve been home with my girls for the past eight weeks.
1. It seems like such a waste. You use up all of the glue, paper, stickers, etc., and then end up throwing it in the trash after the refrigerator magnets will no longer hold up the weight. I am cheap. I don’t like throwing things away. (Ask my husband, he calls it “hoarding.” Whatever.)
2. I don’t …
Today, I took my daughter fishing. For the first time in her short three years on earth, she threw a line into the water, and watched with giddy anticipation as the bobber floated and danced. While I realize a child’s first fishing trip is usually a right of passage reserved for fathers or grandfathers, I felt it was my motherly duty to take her down to the creek.
After all, I’d like fishing to be “our” thing. Something for the girls, an opportunity to bond over waiting and watching. While we may enjoy side by side mani-pedis someday (that sounds pretty good about now), I’d like our quality time to have, well, a little more quality. She’ll learn patience, persistence and most importantly, how to be stronger woman than her mother. …
Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest…oh who cares?
By society’s standards, I am not a stunning, beautiful woman. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’m hideous. I can relate to this line from one of Gretchen Wilson’s honky-tonk tunes: “I may not be a ten, but the boys say I clean up good.” Give me a shower, some makeup and a flattering dress and I’m not too shabby.
No, I’m not fishing for compliments or affirmations of my appearance. Rather, this is a celebration of my imperfections. There are things on my body that are large when they’re supposed to be small (pores, nose, feet). And there are things on my body that are small when they’re supposed to be large (use your imagination).
But you know what? I’m glad. So glad that I …
Yes, these two are actually a full-time job.
These are actual things that people have asked me since I decided to stay home with my girls a little less than two months ago. I’m getting a little tired of pushing my right eye back into my head (it pops out a little when I get angry), so I decided to provide some “education” to those who may come into contact with a SAHM, WAHM, SAHD, WAHD, or whatever term you prefer.
Please, please, please don’t ask me:
1. How are you enjoying your retirement?
My response: “How are you enjoying your ignorance?”
Retirement? Are you kidding? Staying home with your kids is really no different than having a full-time job outside of the home. And why is it that if you have the title “daycare provider,” people understand what you …
Who could deny this face? And don’t judge our nutrition choices. You know you are.
There are few things that give me the “oogies” more than cutting cardboard. And by “oogies,” I mean that nails-on-chalkboard shiver that shoots up your spine and causes your head and shoulders to shudder with disgust. (The sound of someone hocking a loogie and/or vomiting are equally offensive to me. In fact, I nearly couldn’t type that without becoming ill. Excuse me…I’ll be right back.)
When my daughter approached me with an empty oversized cereal box the other day, and asked me to “cut a hole in it so she could pretend she was on television,” I immediately grabbed a knife and started hacking away. After all, it was an awesome idea, and the fact that she said “television” instead of …
My mommy’s a liar. I am NOT amused.
(Note: This is written mostly in jest. So, read, laugh and enjoy!)
There’s a bit of parenting advice you won’t find in any child-rearing book (at least none that I’m aware of). It’s unethical, immoral and goes directly against God’s commandments (the 9th to be exact). Yet, every parent does it on a regular basis.
So, what is this taboo topic? Lying. Lying like a priceless Persian rug on a rich man’s floor, like a coon dog basking in the sunshine on my porch, like a penny in the parking lot at the grocery story (ok, enough with The Band Perry references).
Awhile back, I wrote my 5 Tips for Taming a Strong-Willed Toddler. Guess what? “Become a Liar-Liar Pants on Fire” is #6. Why? Well, let me illustrate a few scenarios …