We were sure our son would jump for joy at our parental directive to work fewer hours while also being encouraged to go out and have fun. There were no jumps for joy. There was only a look of confusion and an "I don't even know how to do that."
Happy six-month-aversary to What to Expect When You Weren’t Expecting!! In many ways, it seems like this labor of love (and hate) hit bookshelves no less than six years ago. In zero ways, well, there’s just no way that it’s only been six months.
"The average person has twelve jobs in their lifetime. TWELVE! You don’t have to stay where you start for the rest of eternity!" We hope our children are discovering that today's decisions do not have to apply to the rest of their lives.
We often talk of life turning on a dime or about unexpected calamities that we are unable to peel our thoughts away from. The truth is, I suppose, that life can turn on a dime and point to something amazing just as easily.
Perhaps my coping method was to focus on my lips rather than on the completion of full, intelligent sentences in response to questions that I actually supplied.
If you ask for relationship tips from either my husband or me, there is a high chance it will involve an acronym. And it's not even WTF.
Preamble: I did get a late start on this blog, so apologies for any unseen typos. I got a late start because I had to empty the dishwasher. More on that later. I’m almost positive that last year I pledged in this very forum to switch up Mother’s Day this year. Or maybe the forgotten … Continue reading Mother’s Day Review
Well, we’re here. Junior Prom. How is that even possible? And is there any chance at all of prepping the child who is currently experiencing a case of the Terrible-Seventeens? Probably not, but I did give it a go.
God bless you, Drew Barrymore. You always were a Firestarter.
It was just a few weeks ago that a friend of mine called to chat and suggested that she run away from home with no forwarding address. Been there, thought that. Who hasn’t? We can all admit an urge to flee from our children occasionally, can’t we?