How do we teach our children to be grateful? I keep trying to teach my 7-year-old about being content with what she has and that happiness does not come from outside material items but rather from within us. But lately I feel like my messages aren’t getting through. It seems like every time I, or
The road to dog rescue is paved with the 3 Bs: Bugs, Barf, and Bites, and I’ve had my share of them all. Date night with Karen is less likely to involve a romantic dinner and more likely to involve detonating flea bombs in my car to eliminate party favors left by a recent transport.
…a funny thing happens as you get older (besides hangovers becoming more painful): you start to prioritize things differently.
Sometimes during a stressful day, week or quarter we (moms) doubt why we work. There are a lot of easy answers (the personal fulfillment, money, human interaction, and more), yet, while home on an extended maternity leave I have discovered another reason why being a working mom is a good thing.
In this polished social media society, where parents seem so put together, it is easy to think that we are failing when we are kicked in the nose by our amazing daughter. But we are not. I am teaching my daughter the value of admitting fault. And she is teaching me so much about firsts, wonder, and patience.
There is no denying how helpful all of my kids’ grandparents are to my family. In fact, I am not really sure what we would do without them. I suppose somehow we would manage, but it would be a definite challenge. Knowing that my children are well-cared for by people who love them and want to be present when I cannot be, makes every second that I spend away from my kids that much easier.
Ya know, the funny thing about change is that it’s not always welcomed. And let me tell you, it certainly wasn’t welcomed by me. I wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t ready. Everything happened way too fast.
Although we are certain that in time there will be a positive ending to our situation, in those woods, with nothing but my family and what nature has provided, I was reminded that it really does not matter how it ends. We need nothing else. We are already blessed beyond measure.
My once tight, tiny body now has stretch marks and loose skin that covers my stomach and hangs where the umbilical hernia once poked through. And, since I am not only a mother— I am also a wife and a woman—naturally, I want to look attractive and sexy on this vacation.