My youngest son started Kindergarten five weeks ago. He was one month away from his fifth birthday—a peanut in my book—and separating from us at drop-off time was difficult. Most mornings, he cried. And, my older son, his big brother, started putting his arm around the back of his neck and lovingly guiding him in
My children’s first day back to school went off without a hitch this year. Days two and three? Not so much. The following words might help explain…”emergency heat-index early dismissals.” Despite having air conditioning in his school, my second grader got sent home at noon on these days while my twelfth grader remained in school
I have to come to realize that we all have some type of madness lurking in our homes now, and am learning to just laugh about the insanity of it all So, here is what life is like in my house. Hopefully, you can relate.
“What’s wrong baby?”
“Mama, I need to poop.”
My first thought was literally, “Oh crap.”
We’ve all heard the African adage “It takes a village to raise a child.” It has taken an unfortunate turn of events to remind me that I need to thank the people in my children’s village and tell them how much they mean to us.
Call me crazy, but I’d rather travel the globe with my kids than take them to Disney.
Just as I know that their bad days are not reflective of who they are, they know the same is true for me. They see all the good and all the bad in me, on my best days and my worst, and still love me fiercely, wholly, and are ready to pounce on any one who dare criticize me … even when that critic is me.
In fact, I find that most Mondays I return to work more exhausted than when I left on Friday. Sure, part of it is that we are trying to cram too much fun into each weekend, but another part of it is simply that “relaxing” activities of my carefree, childless days now require significantly more energy and work in order to be successful (or survive).
Mom fails. Do we all have them? As I frantically try to juggle my family and work lives, I make mistakes, forget things on my never-ending to do list, and lose my patience. Is it just me?
Two years ago my littlest daughter decided she wanted to become a dancer. I had successfully avoided dance mom status with the other two girls as they had both leaned (or were pushed) toward sports like soccer and basketball. My youngest, however, was determined to resist my shoves no matter how pink her cleats and shin guards were.