-
My “Favorite” Child, According To My Kids, Is On A Pedestal. No, Seriously.
If you have more than one kid, your kids will eventually accuse you of having a favorite. The child accusing you, of course, is certain that he or she is NOT the favorite- the topic comes up to protest some alleged act of favoritism on your part to anyone other than said child. This love manifests itself in some odd forms, too, like food distribution. Seriously, people. Crackers. The kids all have their theories on which child is my favorite. #1 swears its #2. #3 is convinced it’s any sibling except him. #4 is convinced it’s anyone who gets more crackers than her, apparently. #5 thinks it’s her, because…
-
The Dino-Mite Gift Of Laughter
#3’s 13th birthday has come & gone, which now brings our house’s teenage total to THREE. We have some limited experience with teenagers because 3’s older sisters are now 16 and 15, but since 3 is also our oldest boy, this is a fairly new road for us. This year has already brought about changes that seemingly appeared overnight. #3 transformed from a gangly stick of a boy whose voice I’d mistake for his sister’s on the phone to a MAN. Seriously- puberty, y’all. The voice deepened, the daily showers, the newfound love for wrestling and all things warrior-like, and the hesitation in my husband’s step when #3 wanted to…
-
Let Them Eat Cake
This weekend was #5’s birthday, which is always a fun occasion. Of course we love to celebrate each child’s birthday, but #5’s enthusiasm is contagious. No matter what gift she receives, what decorations are hung, or what cake she’s given, everything is just THE BEST in her eyes! But that’s her personality. Everything is fun with #5! Most of the birthday preparations were finished in advance, but the actual day of #5’s birthday still required some errands. One of the things that I left until last minute was her birthday cake. All #5 requested was a chocolate cake with white icing. No problem! Right?? I hustled to our local Stop…
-
This is 40.
Let me preface this by saying that that prior to turning 40, I was never the type to experience any angst about my age. My 20’s were great. Turning 30 was no big deal, because I was so busy- married for 5 years and pregnant with my third child. But the Big 4-0… well, that was a different story… The prospect of turning 40 was not ok with me. 40 is OLD. 40 is sore muscles, mom jeans, sensible haircuts, and holding things further away from you as you attempt to read them. No. NOOOOO. The problem is, the chronological number didn’t gel with my internal age. You know. About……
