Don’t mess with a knight in plastic armor.
“Don’t move!,” my captor snarled at me in the dark, small dungeon. “Don’t even blink!”
How could I argue? Mice nipped at my heels, the walls closed in around me. And the aggressor, dressed in a knight’s helmet, wielded a sword. A sword! It stabbed at my arms, legs, and abdomen. “Your blood is dripping on the floor,” I was informed. Well, that sealed the deal. I was staying put.
“Somebody saved me!,” I screamed, but nobody came. “Be quiet!,” the masked knight ordered, finally revealing its face. A girl! A little girl! Are you serious? This half-pint was holding me hostage? “Come on, ” I argued, “Just let me go and I won’t cause any trouble.”
She stabbed me again, slicing open my arm. “Ahhh!!!” But my cries were …
Need a good scream? Go ahead. Need to let something go? That’s ok, too.
“Something’s gotta give. I don’t know how much more I can take. I’m at my breaking pount… AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”
When I saw this status update from a dear friend today, my heart ached. Not only because I care about her, but because that could have easily been me a mere six months ago. I feel ya sister!
Not very long ago, I was at my breaking point. Friends were worried about me. Family was worried about me. My boss was worried about me. I was an empty shell, floating back and forth between work and home, the hours, days, weeks and months passing me by. I was physically, spiritually and emotionally exhausted. Something had to give. And not just something minor (those things …
Yes, this picture is creepy. That’s the point.
Do you notice something strange about this doll? I mean, besides her missing pants. (She was a garage sale find given to Anna by her great aunt, and perfectly sized for Anna’s new doll house. We can find new pants for her someday, right?) Yes, my creative mind immediately began concocting fantastical tales about how this silver haired plastic figurine may have lost the bottom half of her wardrobe.
But my daughter pointed out something else. Something much more insightful than my 12-year-old humor, “I see London, I See France…”
When I handed her the doll, she held it in her little hand, and stared intently for at least minute. Certain she would ask about the “wardrobe malfunction,” I prodded her with, “Honey, do you notice something strange about …
If I ever said I couldn’t wait for my daughter to get a little bit more independent, I take it back. If I ever said I can’t wait until she’s (insert age here) so she’s a little less emotional, I take it all back. All of the milestones I celebrated and encouraged, I wish they’d taken longer to happen. She just turned three, and yet her development has gone into double-time. I can still feel the smoothness of the top her infant head on my cheek as I rocked her so many nights ago. I can still see the hilarious faces she used to make when she yawned as a wrinkly, squawking newborn. She is wonderful. And beautiful. And she’s ours. I delight in seeing her make new discoveries. But someone, please make it stop! …
Parenting is messy. But sometimes it’s more fun that way!
No, that’s not a typo in the headline. This is my toddler’s favorite new expression. One that she says all wrong, but I just can’t bring myself to correct. It’s the sparkle in her eyes, the delight on her face as dances around the kitchen and wiggles her limbs.
Parenting little ones, at times, is like a party. It’s fun, unpredictable, and there’s always a mess to clean up afterwards. Some appreciate your efforts, others just show up and judge. But it’s fun. Or at least the intention is to have fun, no matter how it actually plays out.
Before the guests arrive, your house is fairly quiet. You’ve spent time shopping, cleaning, fantasizing about all the fun to be had. Everything’s prepared, laid out in …
At 4 a.m., I saw my husband off to work. I made him a cup of coffee to go, and watched him drive away on a 1.5 hour commute to his job site. A job site where he would be outdoors nearly all day in 100 plus degree heat, only to take short breaks in the air conditioned job trailer before heading back out into the blistering sun. He’s a hard worker, as hard as they come. I’m sure he would have loved to outsource part of his job today…like I did.
That’s right. I took my toddler to her old daycare, and kept the baby home with me. So technically, I outsourced half of my job. Why? Because I felt it was the best thing for my family, to give her …