I love being a Mama. It is a decision I will never regret. I live for the smiles, laughter, sweet kisses, warm hugs, and every other special moment that comes in between. Yet, there are a few things that no book on parenting or any well meaning advice can prepare you for. This week I have encountered one of those "things," I have discovered that when a child is sick that one or both of the parents take on the visage of a human Kleenex. I had my suspicions early on about this when I was a teacher, but these suspicions have become confirmed fact now that I have my own child.
This week I have been sneezed on, coughed on, snotted on, drooled on, and cried on. Countless shirts and pants have been besieged upon by the Mucous Army. I feel like a walking Tide commercial. My hair has not even escaped the onslaught of snot. Nothing screams louder, "I have a sick child", than finding a glob of snot in your hair. I feel like slimer has come to live in my house, and unfortunately this small slimer needs some TLC, so I can't use my proton blaster. My only line of defense is saline dipped wipes, a dish towel, a snot sucker, and copious amounts of hand sanitizer. I am amazed at the amount of mucous that a 24 pound toddler can make! I mean where is it coming from?! Is he made out of it? Does he have a super duper snot bug?!
My starring role as the human Kleenex will either make me fall prey to this wonderful virus, or I will come out with pumped up, COSMIC antibodies. The thing is, if I get sick, who takes care of Mama? I cannot get sick...so come on phenomenal cosmic antibodies!
Although, I have to admit that even during this incredibly real parenting moment, there is always a silver lining. It is the moment when my son wraps his arms around my neck and says "Lub, Lub Mah ma". It is at this very moment that I forget I have been slimed once again, all I feel is loved. I guess that's what loving a child is all about, you forget all the bad stuff, and revel in the sweet fleeting moments. And at the end of the day, all of that snotty slime washes away; but what doesn't wash away is the knowledge that my son loves and needs me.
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
Thursday, November 14, 2013
The BullyProof Classroom: An interview
Last night I had the opportunity to speak with Mr. Jim Burns over at the BullyProof classroom. I enjoyed conversing with him, and hope to do so again. He has so many wonderful ideas and my greatest desire is that our conversation last night gave hope to someone and changed a life. Here are some of the highlights from last night.
Listen in to hear more of our discussion. Here is the interview...hope you enjoy it!
The BullyProof Classroom
- Be your child's first responder!
- Bullying has nothing to do with you, it has
everything to do with what is going on in the bully's heart.
- Be honest with your children about your own
experiences with bullying.
- Bullyproof your child's heart by giving them
undeniable truths.
- The very things that make you different, make you amazingly special.
- The reason that healing for the victims of bullying is rarely addressed is due to the fact that it takes too much time. Punishing the bully is easier and quicker - but often ineffective.
- All of us are Survivors of bullying.
Listen in to hear more of our discussion. Here is the interview...hope you enjoy it!
The BullyProof Classroom
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Cardigans: A love story...
This weekend I took on the dreaded task of switching out my summer clothes for winter. As I surveyed the growing pile of clothing I realized that 1) I am a bit of a clothing hoarder...you can find a range of sizes in my closet that would rival any department store; 2) I am a cardigan junkie. I don't just own 2 or 3 cardigans, no I have a cardigan in every color...10 to be exact ( sadly, that number is growing after a recent trip to Target). At some point I may need an intervention...but I blissfully grin as I think of all the outfits I can and will create with my troupe of plaid, argyle, and solid colored cardigans. Move over grandma...I am taking over your fashion statement.
Now I don't recall when my penchant for cardigans began, but somehow over the years they have slowly taken over half of my wardrobe. I recall as a child being required to wear the "infamous" holiday cardigans that were popular in the late 80's and early 90's. I know you know what I am talking about, the ones with holiday scenes carefully embroidered all over the front and back. This first step into the cardigan world almost ruined it for me, because as a teen I probably wouldn't have been caught dead in one. Yet, as wisdom increased so did my love for the cardigan. See it is not just a "button up" sweater reserved only for the geriatric or fashion comatose; it is instead the gateway to any glorious look for church, work, or play! I mean these babies are versatile - from preppy to foxy in a minute.
They also are a fluctuating waistlines best friend. Like I stated previously, I have a wide range of sizes in my closet, and I cannot bring myself to get rid of them. Look, judge if you want, but it took me forever to find the perfect clothing for certain "size" moments in my life and I spent some money. I don't own a money tree...so what is the next best thing for clothing that is a tad big or tight? A cardigan! I can slap one over a piece of clothing that by itself would be a bit comical, as far as fit goes, and instead of looking like frump a dump I now look put together. Cardigans are the equivalent of fashion camouflage, they cover all my fashion blunders!
So here's to you, you beautiful cardigan! You will always find a home in my closet and spot in my heart. But I will have to say that I may need an accountability partner the next time I visit target...
They also are a fluctuating waistlines best friend. Like I stated previously, I have a wide range of sizes in my closet, and I cannot bring myself to get rid of them. Look, judge if you want, but it took me forever to find the perfect clothing for certain "size" moments in my life and I spent some money. I don't own a money tree...so what is the next best thing for clothing that is a tad big or tight? A cardigan! I can slap one over a piece of clothing that by itself would be a bit comical, as far as fit goes, and instead of looking like frump a dump I now look put together. Cardigans are the equivalent of fashion camouflage, they cover all my fashion blunders!
So here's to you, you beautiful cardigan! You will always find a home in my closet and spot in my heart. But I will have to say that I may need an accountability partner the next time I visit target...
 |
| I love me some cardighans! |
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Not the brightest crayon...
The Cozy Coupe...a child's first car wreck waiting to happen. I have long wondered why we strap our kids into highchairs, car seats, and other devices to keep them safe, and yet we buy them a toy car with no braking mechanism and let them go. I have seen my son run over himself countless times in that crazy car, and he was sitting in it! I mean I understand that he is operating it like Fred Flintstone, but how in the world does he slip in between the seat and the steering wheel? Thankfully, our car is parked inside our house...why you ask? Well, if my son is anything like me, he should never be allowed outside in a cozy coupe - ever.
I was about 6 at the time when I had my first joy ride in the cozy coupe. I was at my neighbors house and we unfortunately were not being supervised - which is where it all started. Now, my neighbor lived on a steep hill and the garage was at the top of this wonderful incline; it was steep and we had been warned of it's perils. Most of the day we avoided the tempting hill. My little friend and I had been enjoying our time of patty cake, tea party, and dollies when we decided we had had enough of the prim and proper. So we rolled out the red car of death.
It began innocently enough. My friend's cat had just had kittens, so we put them in the "trunk" of the car, and scooted them around in the safety of the garage. After about 5 minutes of this, our inner evil Knievel's rared their heads, the hill was calling to me. I told my friend I wanted to take the kitties for a ride down the hill, and she facilitated the event by giving me a push. In seconds I was peering down the slope, kittens meowing in the back, and saying ,"1...2...3...Push!"
I don't recall when I realized that this was not my brightest idea, but it was somewhere between me watching kittens fly out of the back and seeing the ditch at the end of the drive. "Brake! BRAKE!" screamed through my brain. Kittens meowing loudly, and then nothing but dirt and grass. The ride was all of 30 seconds, but in that 30 seconds I saw all my six years flash before my eyes. "Am I dead?" I wondered. Slowly I opened my tightly clenched eyes to see that I was upside down in the coupe, in a ditch, with a small ticked off kitten peering into my face. Nervous laughter mixed with tears erupted.
Prior to the crash, as I zipped down the hill, my friend's mother happened to walk out and see the unfolding tragedy. Hollering loudly she sprinted after me. She told my mother later, that if she hadn't been so scared she would have laughed at the sight. There I was, hair whipping out the side of the car, kittens scattering like confetti, roaring down the hill, across the street, and crashing into a ditch. "It was like something out of a movie," she said.
So here I am today, with a son, and a cozy coupe. I think it is best for all (human and feline) that it stay indoors...cause I have heard that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
I was about 6 at the time when I had my first joy ride in the cozy coupe. I was at my neighbors house and we unfortunately were not being supervised - which is where it all started. Now, my neighbor lived on a steep hill and the garage was at the top of this wonderful incline; it was steep and we had been warned of it's perils. Most of the day we avoided the tempting hill. My little friend and I had been enjoying our time of patty cake, tea party, and dollies when we decided we had had enough of the prim and proper. So we rolled out the red car of death.
It began innocently enough. My friend's cat had just had kittens, so we put them in the "trunk" of the car, and scooted them around in the safety of the garage. After about 5 minutes of this, our inner evil Knievel's rared their heads, the hill was calling to me. I told my friend I wanted to take the kitties for a ride down the hill, and she facilitated the event by giving me a push. In seconds I was peering down the slope, kittens meowing in the back, and saying ,"1...2...3...Push!"
I don't recall when I realized that this was not my brightest idea, but it was somewhere between me watching kittens fly out of the back and seeing the ditch at the end of the drive. "Brake! BRAKE!" screamed through my brain. Kittens meowing loudly, and then nothing but dirt and grass. The ride was all of 30 seconds, but in that 30 seconds I saw all my six years flash before my eyes. "Am I dead?" I wondered. Slowly I opened my tightly clenched eyes to see that I was upside down in the coupe, in a ditch, with a small ticked off kitten peering into my face. Nervous laughter mixed with tears erupted.
Prior to the crash, as I zipped down the hill, my friend's mother happened to walk out and see the unfolding tragedy. Hollering loudly she sprinted after me. She told my mother later, that if she hadn't been so scared she would have laughed at the sight. There I was, hair whipping out the side of the car, kittens scattering like confetti, roaring down the hill, across the street, and crashing into a ditch. "It was like something out of a movie," she said.
So here I am today, with a son, and a cozy coupe. I think it is best for all (human and feline) that it stay indoors...cause I have heard that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
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