A Work in Progress

I tend to use this title a lot, Seasons of Change . I mean, I haven't scrolled back to look, but it feels like I either use this title every year in one of my blog posts, or want to use this title with each post I write. Either way, here it is again. It's only July 1st, but I'm sitting at my computer trying to go back through the last four weeks, and they have been some of the most transitional "seasons of change," yet. This last May was by far the busiest May I can recall. There was virtually no down time for weeks ... and it's fine now. But for all you parents of soon-to-be Senior High School students, who work and run a house, best of luck. You will lose your sanity. You will lose patience. And you will look back and wonder how you made it through. Well, here's a glimpse of the last four weeks in my world. For starters, I had a story of mine published and that was a great way to begin the summer. It's via Guideposts, the story is true, and

Ah, the mother's life. For you ladies who work outside the home, I honestly don't know how you do it. My work -- writing, (soon teaching) and selling vintage -- ALL can be done from home. I'm lucky. Actually, luck has zero to do with it. I chose these things so I could be with my kids. But, that I CAN do this -- work from home-- is a huge blessing. Obviously, not every woman gets to choose their working life specifics, due to life's curve balls and what not. But, for the moms who do everything and work outside the house, I'm sure something's got to give. I was thinking more about this, while I pondered our living room and dining room. It looks pretty clean because my boys don't hang out much in there. I like this. When the rest of the house is a mess, I can always stand here and pretend the whole house looks this spotless. So, what has to give? 1. An entire spotless house. I guess Cheerios on the floor for many days isn't awful (or the res

I write for this online magazine called Society Letters . It's a perfect place for women of all ages to come together to discuss life, raising kids, how to improve their marriages. You get the idea. My editor asked me to write about Things Only Parents of Boys Can Understand. Naturally, I jumped at the chance. Because if I didn't, my thoughts about wanting to write this post --but not writing it -- would drive me crazy. So, ↓ here's the article. It's a snap shot of my wonderful life. And one that --if you've had, or have or will have boys -- is a snap shot of yours. Ha ha. Welcome to my world. Parenting: 5 Things Only Parents of Boys Can Understand There’s a running joke between my husband and me. And the joke is really on us because, a long, long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, we both assumed we’d be the best parents, discipline our children to perfection, love them beyond unconditionally, and that everything would be great. Well, everything

See this guy? Yeah. You know who he is. Han Solo. Corellian, friend to Wookies, and Millenium Falcon Driver. Or Flyer. Or Whatever. Pilot! That's it. Pilot. Okay. Here he is. ↓ See this look on his face? It says sarcastic, sardonic, sneer-filled, snide, and know-it-all, in one fell swoop. But of course, we love that. Every. Single. Bit. Of. It. It's what makes Han Solo one of the best characters. Ever. ↓ Okay. Now. Look at this picture. The one that says, "I ain't havin' none of this." and "My way or the highway." Got a good look? Well that's pretty much the look I give to my two boys -- and all the time now. What am I talking about, you say? Well, I'm glad you asked. I've relegated to being the Han Solo in their lives (minus a few things like chest hair and a blaster or two et al, ... I don't need to elaborate). And you can learn more by reading the article I wrote here ◄on Society Letters. Enjoy. An

So, I have this cute child. He's six. Tall for his age. And very much like my first born with his perfectionist tendencies. While extremely responsible, and this year has been exceptional -- him telling me what homework he has the day before it's due; that he wants to take his spelling pretests with ABSOLUTELY no help from me, etc -- he forgot something really important the second week of school. He went to school without his shoes. Okay, not the end of the world. I drove up to the "drop off" area, ready to expel my children to the world of learning, when I hear, "I don't have my shoes!" He was so in shock, so scared I would be mad at him, that all I could do was say, "Okay. Wow." No way could I be angry. No way could I tell him that he seriously ruined my morning routine, that I'd be late meeting a friend for coffee, or that I didn't care. Because I did care. And my cute child is everything to me. On the good days. And the ba