Village. Tribe. Support system. Club. Group of friends. My people.
No matter what you call them, it’s always so nice to have them.
A group of people, in similar situations as you (for me, other parents), who are supportive, loving, relatable, and understanding. They aren’t judgmental, degrading, overcritical, or negative. They listen. They help. They care. They give advice when asked. They let you vent without judging. They respect your parenting choices. They love you for you. They love your kids for themselves. And you do the same for them.
These people are as inexorable to your survival as your coffee in the morning and your washing machine in the… all day every day. Their encouragement, interest in your life and feelings, and concern for you can help you get through the worst of days, even if you’ve already cleaned up several spills (of all sorts of liquids), survived multiple tantrums, and have silvery smears of snot all over your shirt. Having someone you can vent to, cry to, talk to, ask questions of, and plead for sanity from… or at least have a little confirmation that you’re not totally losing it.
Whatever your situation, your status, your goings on day in and day out, it’s likely that sometimes you need a pick-me-up, a funny story about how your colleague (read: mom friend) had the same thing happen to them yesterday. If you’re a working mom who’s dealing with childcare woes, a stay-at-home mom who’s dealing with scraped knees and stubbed toes, or a part-time working mom who’s going nuts trying to figure out the schedule of working time vs. naps and play dates, you’re probably, in a moment of frustration, shooting a text to your pals, sharing the latest thing you’ve been dealing with, or informing them about the most recent baffling news about a sale you missed out on.
But you’re also sharing your successes. You’re sharing about those moments you couldn’t love your kids more, the moments your spouse swept you off your feet again, and the moment the mountain of laundry (almost) disappeared. You’re cheering on your friends when they tell you about the whole day their toddler spent in big boy underwear, the fact that they didn’t forget to put on the trash on the right evening, and the promotion they just got at work. You’re praying for each other about struggles and praising Jesus for the victories, big and small. Having a few people who can totally get you, love you through your mess and in spite of your crazy can save your day.
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If you’re interested in learning more about moms supporting moms, and changing the course of the mom wars, check out #mommitment on Facebook, Twitter, and the blogosphere, or read about it from Julie at Next Life, NO Kids. #mommitment moms are committed to spreading the love and support, and ending negativity towards each other. Here’s the link to sign the petition and join the movement!
Earlier this week, I wrote a post that many of your said was pretty spot on (thanks, by the way!) about several things I can do now that I have kids. Well, to counter the post about things I can do, here’s a list of things I cannot do, now that I have kids.
1. Wear nice clothes. If I have a lovely silk blouse, or a dry clean-only skirt, you can bet the second I put it on that someone’s lunch (or more likely, bodily fluid) is on it somewhere. The saddest part? Often, it’s my fault. Mom brain made me clumsy.
2. Leave my food/drink unattended. If I get to the couch with my cup of coffee, but forget my laptop, I can’t just leave the coffee sitting on the table while I go get my laptop. Oh no – that is a mistake of disastrous proportions. Not only will one or the other of my toddlers ingest a dangerous (read: any) amount of caffeine, but it’ll also be down their shirt, puddled in their shoes, and spilled on the rug. Believe me, I speak from experience. If the consumable item I leave unattended happens to be a snack? All bets are off. It’s finished by the time I return.
3. Sleep late. There is an exception when my mom is visiting, or when I’ve prearranged with the Hubby that I’d like to sleep late (since he often works nights, this is usually not an option). But for the most part, there is no sleeping late. One or the other of them is up early, smelling like poop and wanting breakfast. How they can think about eating while they have poop in their pants is beyond me.
4. Communicate effectively. Partially, this is because the little humans you’re communicating with can’t really understand everything, or communicate back effectively either. The other reason is because when most of your communicating is done with one syllable words and kid terms for things (boo-boo, potty, nom-noms, you get the idea), you may temporarily lose the ability to hold an intelligent conversation with other adults.
5. Be alone. I’m an extrovert. I love being with people; I get energy from it and typically have a great time even if the people are strangers. That being said, sometimes, I just want to be alone. Whether it’s for a shower, a potty break, or to savor the only first hot sip of coffee, I’d like a few minutes that are quiet, and without my footman and lady in waiting.
Do you agree? What are some other things you miss doing now that you’re a parent?
How often do we as mothers – as women, as humans! – shame ourselves? We do it unconsciously, as if it’s built into our DNA. We give ourselves the roughest time, hold ourselves to the highest standard. I know that I beat up on myself for using unkind words toward my toddler in a stressful moment, or not using my time wisely to do the chores, get more sleep, or make a healthier meal.
It takes a lot to be a mom, whether you’re a stay at home mom, or work at home mom, or work outside the home mom. It takes an incredible balance, to do everything for your kids, to take care of the house, the spouse, the pets, to go to your job every day, to get your shoes on the right feet and shirt on forwards. Every single thing we do, we tend to hold ourselves to a standard of perfection. And I don’t know about you, but it’s exhausting.
When we give ourselves little or no grace in our lives, it’s exhausting. When we don’t give ourselves room to breathe, grace to make mistakes, and the opportunity to start over every morning (or after every nap!) it can lead to just making more mistakes and getting even more choked out trying to do your best.
Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son is a perfect example of how we need grace from the Father, but also from ourselves. Both brothers in the tale needed grace – the younger needed it from his father after he had strayed, and the elder needed it from himself, because he had held himself to a nearly impossible standard. The elder brother laments to his father about how his brother rand away, squandered his wealth, and came home to have a party thrown in his honor, while he himself had been working day and night for his father, with nary a calf killed in his honor. His father tells him, “All I have is yours.” He could have everything his father owned at any time, if he had only asked. He just hadn’t felt worthy.
There are so many things we can miss out on when we don’t feel worthy, when we don’t treat ourselves well. We withhold things from ourselves because we think we don’t deserve them: time off, nights out, afternoons away, time at the spa, other indulgences. We feel like if we take time and money for those things, we aren’t spending that time and money on what’s most important – our kids. Well, to an extent, that may be true. If we’re spending ALL our time and money away, maybe we do need to reevaluate.
But if you are so stressed because you haven’t had a few hours away from the kids and the housework to get your nails done, have dinner or drinks with your girlfriends, or just to roam Target, alone, with a Starbucks in your hand, then I say you deserve it. Get that babysitter, call that friend, or ask that relative to love on your kiddos for a few hours. You work hard. You do the absolute best you can, day in and day out. Give yourself some grace, and a break. How much easier will it be to show grace and love to your kids if you aren’t stressed out? How much easier will it be to come home and cook dinner if you haven’t been pulling your hair out all afternoon? We love and give and do our best from a place of fullness. If you feel like your tank is empty, and you’re “all gived out”, then allow yourself to recharge, whatever that looks like for you, any way you can. Help yourself to be the best you by giving yourself grace, and forgiving yourself for your mistakes. Tomorrow is a new day.
Lately I’ve realized that my social media newsfeeds are overtaken by things about parenting. Blogs giving me suggestions, companies trying to sell me their products, friends posting questions, opinions, and pictures of or related to their kids… I’m totally inundated by “mom stuff”.
Another thing I’ve noticed is that a lot of these articles, products and opinions contain labels about a parent’s style. How the mom delivers her baby. How she nourishes her baby. How the parents help their babies sleep. How the parents plan to transport, potty train, educate, and discipline their offspring. There are a thousand ways to rear a child, and no one has any business telling other people they’re doing it wrong, or to try to force their way on someone else. We’re all doing the best we can. This video is a great one along those lines, I think:
I wrote a post a couple of weeks ago about helping mothers (especially expectant mothers and new mothers) feel celebrated and loved. Well, this is part of that. Melissa at One Mother to Another (she’s the best!) brought a movement to my attention. It’s a #mommitment for us to all make to each other, to support mothers, one and all. Whatever our similarities or differences, to set them aside and support each other’s efforts to be the best parents we can, in the best way we know how.
My #mommitment to you:
I pledge to accept you as you are, no matter your situation, choices, or style. I promise to support you, in any way I can, no matter whether we made the same choices for our little ones, or if we couldn’t be more different. I vow to be in your corner, defend you, stand alongside you, laugh with you, cry for you, be happy for you, or mourn with you. I will listen to you respectfully, and respond with kindness. I will share my opinion with grace and understanding. I will not judge you, condemn you, or scoff at you. I will not label you or assume things about you by the choices you have made. I will celebrate your special journey as a mother.
I will do these things because we are bound by an invisible tie. We know some things about each other without being told. We have similarities that cannot be chosen – they are inherent. We are mothers, and we should stand together. I know that sometimes, I will need these things from you, too. I have often asked questions, needed advice, and just plain needed to vent. We all need each other, and building barriers because of styles and “labels” doesn’t help any mother, or any child.
So there it is. A commitment to you, fellow moms, to be supportive, loving, kind and helpful. To NOT be judging, belittling, unkind, or harsh. I’m passionate about ending the mom wars, and spreading the love and support to all moms. Hear me? Every. Single. One.
If you’re interested in reading about the mom behind the movement, visit Julie’s page Next Life No Kids and read about her journey, and her movement. You can also find her and the mom movement on Facebook and Twitter. Join us, and make your mommitment to end mom wars with compassion and support.
If you’re like me, at 29 years old, you’ve been to a billion baby showers, possibly including your own. You’ve known young moms and old, had at least one close friend have a baby, and needed to hit up the local baby store for a set of bottles or a sweet, monogrammed blanket.
This is like a mini-throwback from my shower before EK was born. These are my college girlfriends!
That being said, those gifts are sweet: bottles, blankets, teethers, etc. They’re thoughtful, useful, and probably from the mom’s registry. But there are a few things that, as a mama who’s attended some baby showers, I’ve learned are really great gifts that new parents love, even if they aren’t quite as cute in the gift wrap.
On the heels of the success of my “10 Tips for Soon-To-Be Moms“, here are a few unconventional but awesome baby shower gift ideas.
1. Stain remover. I really love the BabyGanics Stain Remover (find it on Diapers.com) personally, but Shout and OxyClean also are winners. I always include a bottle of the BabyGanics with whatever I get the new mama.
2. Clothes in bigger sizes. Yes, those newborn outfits are cute, and yes, the tinier they are, the cuter, somehow. BUT there are two reasons to stay away from the tiniest clothes you see: 1. Everyone else is buying them, too. While newborns probably have lots of costume changes, no mama needs 59 outfits for the first week of the baby’s life. 2. Babies grow really, really fast. And some babies, like my J, never wear newborn sized clothes anyway. He was a little long and a little porky for most of the newborn-sized clothes I had, so he jumped straight to three months size. I’d love to have gotten more cute clothes in nine months size and up, even all the way to 3T! Kids always need play clothes, and if you’re worried about sizes for the right seasons, just get t-shirts and leggings (girls) or jeans because those are can be worn in every season.
3. Restaurant gift certificates. Whether for a date night before the baby comes, or after, or for take out during the first few weeks where life is a blur, providing a meal is always a good thing.
4. Laundry detergent, dish soap, or hand sanitizer. These are great gifts, because we go through TONS of it in the baby’s first month or two. Dreft or any natural brand (insert second BabyGanics plug) is great for laundry, natural dish soaps (Honest Company, Mrs. Meyer’s, etc) for paci/bottle/teether washing, and hand sanitizer for every single soul who walks through your front door. Sorry germs, ain’t nobody got time for that.
5. Diapers or wipes. Some mamas have a huge bias when it comes to these (brands, cloth diapering, etc) but it’s easy to ask them what their plan is, and offer to contribute to it. Even if you’re cloth diapering, it can be an expensive undertaking. And just like clothes, diaper sizes change often as well, so don’t get two jumbo cases of newborn sizes… go all the way up to 4 or 5 if you want. I promise. They’ll be used.
6. Don’t be afraid to go gender neutral. This is important especially for bigger ticket items. It’s super cute that your baby girl’s carseat is covered in pink flowers, but when your second baby is a boy, and you have to buy a new one, that’s a big bummer. This also applies, in my book, to things like burp cloths, muslin swaddles, crib sheets, bath towels, socks (Yeah, I said it. What’s wrong with white?), and toys. I know, you can get teethers and noisemakers that are all princessy, or all have trucks on them, but why can’t you just get the ones covered in giraffes?
7. Baby food pouches. For the most part, these things stay good a long while, and they’re great even for moms who want to make their own baby food, because you can find things that might be out of season, or that are a little more expensive fresh for the same price – not to mention they are GREAT for being on the go. Choose simple, though, and get pouches that have only one or two ingredients (just peaches, or plain ol’ applesauce) instead of blends, and always go organic. (I like the Plum Organics brand a lot, just by the way.)
8. Housecleaning service. I don’t think it’s too forward to pay for a few hours of a housecleaning service so that mama can worry not about her floors and toilets during the first month or two post-partum. She’ll just thank you later.
9. Wine, booze, coffee, and chocolate. It may sound silly, but after nine months without any (or with very little) of these things, it’s a welcome change to enjoy them in moderation – you know, except the chocolate. Don’t bother moderating the chocolate.
10. Salon gift certificate. Maybe a facial, a massage, or a pedicure, but definitely a winner. If you’re brave, you could add a clause about keeping that sweet little snuggler while she gets pampered!
What else would you add? Anything else super useful that gets overlooked?
Today is the day. The day that I read scripture before my kids woke up (rare). The day that I resolved to parent with grace (again). The day I made a nice, big, healthy breakfast for everyone. The day I made a really, really great cup of coffee. The day I got a quick workout in after dropping my daughter at preschool.
It is also the day EK “needed five more minutes” before doing every single thing I asked her to do. The day my son took every item out of every drawer in my kitchen. The day Hubby didn’t feel so hot. The day it was so rainy that my motivation to get things done died at the start.
If I laid out every day like this, a moment-to-moment “things that happened” or “things I did”, how disappointed would I be? How many days would I say I had missed the mark, or wasted too many minutes or even hours? I doubt I would be impressed by my daily productivity or nominating myself for the “best executed day” award. (Thank goodness that’s not a thing, by the way.) I probably would no longer even be happy about the things I did accomplish.
But the things I did accomplish go without mention. The fact that my kids are clean, dressed and well-fed, the snuggles and kisses, the number of times I sang the alphabet song, and the fact that I took a shower. These things are on a list of “things moms should do without recognition”, even though these seemingly simple things are the hardest things I do all day. No one knows as well as I do the struggle it is to get pants on my son, or to get ten uninterrupted minutes to wash my hair or shave my legs. There are days that I feel like I should get a medal for doing those things!
Today, in fact, is that day. So, in honor of whatever your today held, here’s your medal – a medal and a hug for getting dressed today, for washing a dish or two, for getting the groceries, even though you forgot the eggs. Here’s a medal for any outing you made with the kids. Here’s a hug for any moment you were covered in some sort of bodily fluid, and a hug for any time that you’ve heard more cries than laughs. You deserve it.
I don’t know what qualifies as a “late talker” but I’m guessing my daughter falls on that spectrum somewhere. Recently, as in the past two months or so, her vocabulary has really catapulted into the “most sounds are actual words” range. For a while, it was still mostly gibberish while she pointed her chubby finger at something, with the occasional real word in there. Now, she’s stringing three or four or even five words together in a row, and sometimes making sentences! Hubby and I are so proud! I’m especially disappointed proud to say that her first full sentence was, “I wove fry fries!” As you can imagine, that means she really loves french fries.
Recently, she’s been using “thank you” (sounds like “kick you”) and “I’m sorry” a lot. For us, teaching manners to our kids also meant teaching a few polite phrases. When she receives something, she always says thank you. When she does something like take her brother’s toy or pull my hair (yeah, I don’t know where that came from but it’s a thing), we tell her to say “I’m sorry.” I know she doesn’t fully understand, but I always respond with “I forgive you” because I want forgiveness to be a familiar idea in our home. I want to extend forgiveness for small things and big things. I have a perfect model of forgiveness to follow; Jesus’ death on the cross for my sins (and yours!) is the ultimate act of forgiveness. If I have been forgiven for every single sin I have committed and will commit, it seems a simple thing to forgive my kids for their innocent transgressions. I consider forgiveness a particular blessing I can bestow on my family, and it mends my heart as well.
I have a two year old. They’re clumsy. They haven’t been walking all that long, and they don’t pay much attention to anything. Those two simple things make me wonder why EK isn’t more banged up than she already is. She’s got probably ten little bruises on her knees and shins alone. Like today, leaving the house, she bounded across the front porch and completely ignored the one step down to the sidewalk… and fell. (Cue face palm.)
But the other night, she got her second (you read correctly) black eye in her short little life. The worst part about it is that Hubby, one of my girlfriends and I were all sitting right there, hanging out and playing in the floor with her. Then one wrong move, and boom. Into the brick hearth my baby’s face went. It was so fast I wasn’t even sure it happened. But you know what came next: that crying-without-making-noise thing they do. Their face is screwed up, their mouth is wide open, air is moving through there, but no sound is coming out. Then just as you think they will possibly pass out soon, in goes a huge gulp of air and out comes a wail.
EK, my friend Katelyn and me, all sad about the big booboo.
As the mama, you set the tone for what comes next. There are two ways you can play this. #1: Give in to the panic that blood will obviously be coming out of a gaping hole, your daughter most certainly lost at least one eye, and you should prepare to head to the ER. #2: Try to keep calm. Scoop her into your arms, comfort her till the worst of the crying subsides (or at least till her breathing gets a little more normal), softly ask Hubby to get some ice, and assess the damage without any frightened screams or dramatic gasps or word vomit about how nervous you are that she will have a scar the size of Texas.
Somehow, I was able to stick with #2. I was calm on the outside, no matter how fast my heart was beating, and EK calmed down fairly quickly, too. I have learned that my reaction is everything. Even more than how she initially feels, my reaction directly affects what she will do. In this case, she milked it a little for a few extra kisses, carried around her ice for 20 minutes, but was back to normal shortly with the promise of yummy dessert after dinner. It’s amazing how a parent’s body language and words are mimicked by a little teeny girl. If I make a huge deal, so does she. If I grunt when I bend down to pick something up (like when I’m pregnant), she does the same. Seriously, it’s been six months, EK. You can stop.
Some of my people know this story… my family, close friends, prayer warrior friends of mine. I hope that by telling it, someone will be encouraged, someone will feel less alone, someone will be justified in their anguish. This story isn’t cute or sweet, and it doesn’t leave anything out. It’s just heartache and details and sadness and redemption.
Hubby and I tried for seven months to get pregnant with EK. I am well aware that seven months isn’t very long to try to get pregnant. It seemed long going through it, but as the cliché goes, God’s timing is always perfect. Hubby and I have always liked the idea of having our children fairly close together, so when she was born, we decided to “not not try”. Pardon the double negative, but that was our short way of saying we weren’t actively “trying” to get pregnant right away, but we weren’t actively preventing getting pregnant either.
When EK was ten months old, I got pregnant. I knew early on, told Hubby, and we somehow kept the joy and excitement of a sibling for EK to ourselves for two weeks. We finally told my parents (who were visiting at the time) when I estimated myself to be about 6 weeks along. With utterly cruel timing, the following week I started having terrible cramps. Not “implantation cramping” or “stretch cramping” or whatever other excuse they give you to tell you “it’s totally normal”. I was having honest-to-goodness, menstruation-like cramps. I tried to keep calm. I tried to monitor my body. I tried to wish and hope and pray them away. And when the spotting started, I called my OB’s office, heard the nurses say it was normal, read on various medical websites that it was normal. But I knew. Somehow, deep down I already knew what was happening.
I went in for an ultrasound, because my OB wanted to rule out an ectopic pregnancy. He was able to rule that out but said it was too early to tell much else. I went home. Cried a little lot. Rested. Tried to pretend everything was fine. Hubby was preparing for a ski trip with his brothers and some buddies, so I tried my best to put on a happy face and not share my darkest concern with him. But two days later, I knew for sure. My worst fears were all but confirmed. My cramping was a lot worse, and so was the bleeding. Even though my head kept wanting to hope, my heart was resigned to the loss.
I had gotten up at 4:00am that morning when Hubby got up to leave for his trip. He had offered to stay, but what good would it have done? Whether he stayed or went wouldn’t change anything. As I sat in the bathroom, weeping, I could even tell the moment that was the peak. It was done. Over. There would be residual damage, of course, but the event was finished. When I was hugging Hubby and sending him on his trip, I told him it was over. He held me for a long time, and left. I knew asking him to stay, like I really wanted to, would be ridiculous. I had already seen that he felt helpless, and was miserable for me much more than for the situation.
Later we would talk at length about this, about how he was excited at the idea of the baby, but it was just that – an idea. For the partner, it’s just an idea until they start to see the belly grow, feel the kicks, see the movements. For the woman who is pregnant though, the motherhood starts the moment you know that baby is there, just a microscopic little bean. Your feelings in that moment, combined inevitably with your hormones, overwhelm you. You start thinking and planning, praying and seeking wisdom from those other mothers in your life. You love that little thing… that little nameless, shapeless thing, because that’s what the Lord created you to do. You begin to neglect other things in your life as you start to wonder what the baby will look like, how far along you (actually, officially) are, whether it’s a boy or girl, whether you’ll even find out until the birth. It’s incredible how quickly you love that little thing, and every possibility it has.
But to have that little thing taken, snatched from you without reason or ceremony, that will break your heart. “What did I do wrong? What could I have done differently?” The answer is probably nothing. The poor little thing never had a chance. And neither did your heart.
In the next few weeks that seemed to drag, I held onto my first baby, my sweet Ella Kate, so tightly. I thanked the Lord for her, tried to believe that it was still possible for me to have a second such miracle. But if there wasn’t, EK was perfect, and I would do my best to be happy with only her. But I wanted her to have a sibling! I wanted her to experience that bond. I know many only children who wish they had shared their childhood with another. I didn’t want to keep that experience from her. I couldn’t help but wonder, no matter how hard I tried not to, if I had lost the only chance at another little miracle.
After the miscarriage, my doctor told me it could be 4-12 weeks before my cycle would start again. You guessed it – all that stuff about every woman’s body being different and all. He also said we should wait till the cycle started back to try to get pregnant again. And oh, did we ever want to try. I didn’t know there was a gaping, second-child-shaped hole in my life until I glimpsed it and lost it. But we waited to “try”. We took it slow, went about our busy lives. Then one day, chatting with two of my girlfriends, I started to count. I counted the days and weeks since my sadness had begun. There were so many… thirteen weeks, to be exact. How long had my doctor told me to wait? 4-12? Well heck, there ought to be something wrong with me if I haven’t started at this point. What could be the hold up? This girl needs to get pregnant!
When I got home, I found out what the hold up was. I was pregnant, there in that very moment. In the midst of my anguish and waiting and wallowing and praying, I got pregnant. Without trying, without stressing over dates and temperatures and wives’ tales. I couldn’t believe it – women don’t get pregnant like that, right? Our bodies need time and healing and rest, right? I guess sometimes not. And when I called my doctor’s office, the nurse I spoke to estimated (based on my miscarriage date) that I got pregnant about eight weeks after the miscarriage, and made me an appointment for when I should have been abut eight weeks along. At the appointment, the ultrasound tech (the same sweet Kayla who had walked with me through both my pregnancy with EK and my shorter, sadder one) burst out laughing and said, “You’re 10.5 weeks pregnant! Due before the end of the calendar year!” What an incredible surprise, to be that near the baby’s arrival! I was almost out of my first trimester, and I hadn’t even known I was expecting.
EK’s big announcement!
Part of the beauty of my story is the way Joseph obliterated my raw sadness. His appearance showed me that my body wasn’t broken. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. A few short months later, he arrived the day before his due date, round and pink and perfect. He’s the symbol of redemption in the story. The proof that something blessed and sweet was on my horizon.
The night before J was born, EK still in her mismatched Christmas pajamas, snuggling her brother-to-be.
In my story, I just have one. Just one little being I lost and will one day meet in heaven. But I know there are countless women who have lost more, much more, more than even those little babies that should have been. I count myself lucky to have two healthy children, and just one comparatively brief time of sadness. I don’t sit here thinking I’ve had it the worst you can have. But every miscarriage hurts. It still hurts. It is such a deep sadness, in your bones. But look for the redemption. I won’t tell you the redemption will look like mine. It might not be a child at all. But it will be there. Every situation can and will be redeemed. Let yourself believe it.
The principle here is that forcing kids to share their toys, etc with other kids may not be instilling niceness in them. It may be instilling a sense of entitlement. Instead of forcing kids to give up what they’re playing with, or to let another kid have a turn, they should be able to play with a toy until they’re finished playing with it. I have witnessed stories like the ones the author shares. I might have even been one of those moms (hopefully not as rude) asking for her daughter to be able to have a turn. However, I know that if Ella Kate wants to play with something another kid has, I don’t ask the kid to give it up. If they can play together, I might suggest that. But I just don’t think I would take a toy from another kid just because “It’s Ella Kate’s turn.”
How do you feel about this method? Are you a share mom? How would you feel if your child’s preschool had the same policy?
Today is the day. The day that I read scripture before my kids woke up (rare). The day that I resolved to parent with grace (again). The day I made a nice, big, healthy breakfast for everyone. The day I made a really, really great cup of coffee. The day I got a quick workout in after dropping my daughter at preschool.
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