Some words should never go together to construct a sentence. For example, a mom should never have to utter the words, “There’s a dirty pull up stuck in a tree outside my house!” I, however, said those words Wednesday morning just after 7 a.m. I walked into my two-year-old son’s room to find him without a stitch of clothing below his waist and poop on the floor.
I asked, “Where is your pull-up?”
“Out there,” he said, pointing to the window.
My house is a wreck. I’m not just talking some of the time. I’m talking just about every day. I’m quite sure if burglars came to my home, they would walk in and think someone else had beaten them to it and leave.
I think it’s almost a lost cause at this point in my life to think I’ll ever have a clean and organized home….not with three small kids anyway. It’s a never ending cycle of cleaning up messes and having them make more messes.
As a parent, I struggle with making sure the true meaning of Easter, Christ’s death and resurrection, doesn’t get overshadowed by Easter baskets, dying eggs and the anticipation of the Easter Bunny’s arrival. It seems like all holidays anymore boil down to consumption of material things, and I don’t want that to be the sole memory that sticks with my children about this Easter. I found a wonderful recipe a few years ago for Resurrection cookies, and I finally...
Amazing. There’s simply no other word to describe it. One month ago I had LASIK eye surgery, and it’s nothing short of a miracle for someone who had (note the past tense here!!!) such poor vision. When I say I needed glasses to see, I really mean I NEEDED glasses to see. To quote my LASIK doctor, I “couldn’t see a foot in front of me.”
I’m the patient who’d be led down the hallway at my yearly eye exams for fear that I’d run into the wall....
As a parent, you never know what adventures a day will bring. Take this past Saturday. It was a typical afternoon at the house, and suddenly my 2-year-old picked up a green bead that had fallen off his sister’s preschool artwork, tossed it in his mouth and darted off to another room.
I heard my husband running after Siler and shouting for him to spit it out. I ran downstairs to find my husband prying open Siler’s mouth in search of the bead. It was nowhere in his mouth to be found.
For Valentine’s Day this year, I was prepared. I was determined that I’d help my kids make their own valentines for their preschool classmates. Thanks to familyfun.com I found a fool-proof homemade valentine, a one-eyed heart monster. My four-year-old son instantly loved the idea. My daughter wasn’t sold on the one eye. A practical chick, she insisted on her heart having two eyes and a fuzzy nose.
Together, we made a trip to Michaels for supplies. If you know me, you will...
Time is something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. As a mom of small children, I’m constantly fluctuating between a state of wanting time to stand still and wishing time would speed up.
When I think about my twins turning five in a few months, I long for time to slow down. When I think about how many more times my two-year-old son is going to have poop accidents in his pants before learning to put it in the potty, I can’t wait to jump ahead.
Change isn’t easy. I’ve been reminded of that on a daily basis for the last four weeks—usually between the hours of 5 a.m. and 6 a.m. That’s when I’m often awakened from my peaceful slumber by the sounds of heavy footsteps upstairs and slamming doors.
My new alarm clock comes in the form of an unstoppable 2-year-old boy. Siler transitioned from a crib to a big boy bed over the holidays. When I say transition, I really mean it. It’s impacted the entire family’s...
My twins share a unique bond. No matter how hard I try I will never fully understand it because I’m not a twin. Sure, I know what it’s like to have a sibling, but I can still remember life before my brother was born. Being four years older than my brother, I also was never with him 24/7 the way my twins are with each.
I like to refer to their interesting sibling bond as twinship. Mila and Eli were wombmates for eight months before I even caught a glimpse of them and held them...
O Christmas Tree! O Christmas Tree! How insane you make me! Actually it’s not the tree’s fault. It’s my toddler with sticky fingers that’s the problem. Like most two-year-olds (at least that’s what I tell myself), Siler just can’t resist the sparkling lights and all the shiny ornaments on our Christmas tree. I’ve spent much time in the last two weeks saying, “Don’t touch tree.” Often my order is met with a devious little grin. I can practically...
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