Wordless Wednesday: Llama Feeding Time!

What is the strangest animal you ever got to feed?

Mommy Doesn't Work...8 Hours Every Night

It’s funny how kids can so easily misunderstand things. Sometimes, it is pretty funny the way little minds try to understand the world around them. Other times, it’s hard not to feel a little sad about their misconceptions. Recently, my son and I got into a tiny argument about his homework. He didn’t want to practice reading. In fact, he was determined to not do school ever again! I tried to explain to him why reading was so important—an explanation that included that reading was necessary for getting a job.

As soon as those words were out of my mouth, my son glared at me and said, “I don’t plan on ever getting a job. You don’t work, so why should I?!”

I know kids will be kids, and temper tantrums are a part of the parenting journey. Still, his words really stung. I may not work outside my home but raising and cyber-schooling two children is hard work. Besides, I spend an average of 6-8 hours each day working diligently at my writing, long after my family is fast asleep. It may not make me much money now, but I’m working towards something bigger and better that will help make my family more financially stable. I know he is too young to understand that I work my buns off for him and his sister. Yet, it still hurts that it goes unrecognized sometimes.

I hope as he grows older that he will see that everything I do is for the betterment of our family. I frequently skimp on sleep, occasionally pass up on fun activities, and forever plan and refocus myself, so I can offer more for my children. No, I don’t write solely for my children’s benefit. However, a lot of the driving force behind my writing is related to my son and daughter. They give me the added push I need to make myself sit down and work, even when I don’t feel like writing. They also are one of my biggest inspirations for my ideas and creativity. They bring out the best in me and make me always strive to be better than I am now. I honestly believe I wouldn’t be the writer I am today without my children, and I thank God every day that I have them in my life!

H: Hundred Haven

To celebrate the 100th day of school, my 7-year-old son’s class did a video project that featured what each student thought he or she would look like and be like if they live to be 100 years old. It was a cute project idea, but at first, my son wasn’t a fan. He felt that 100 was far too old and he felt that he could never live that long. Trying to emphasize the hypothetical nature of this project, I asked him what IF he made it that long? What did he think he would look like? What did he think he would be doing? How would he be different, and how would he be the same?

Either my questions got his creative juices flowing or he just got tired of me bothering him about the project. In the end, he came up with a cute illustration and an even cuter explanation of what he might be like if he reaches 100.

He made it clear to me again that he is skeptical that he will ever live to be 100 years old. However, after some thought, he now feels that he does have a chance since his great great grandpa is 93. He told me that if he lives to be 100, he wants to be just like his great great grandfather, who he calls Great Pap-Pap. My son feels that if he reaches 100, he will be bald, wear yellow glasses, and live in an all orange house. He explained to me that since Great Pap-Pap still lives on his own, he feels that he will, too He also explained that he wanted a giant orange house because he loves orange and wants to have space for all his friends and family to come visit.

It warms my heart that my son looks up to his Great Pap-Pap. Even at 7 years old, he seems to have a respect and appreciation for the older generations--something is often lacking in today’s youth. I hope that as he grows older, my son will never forget his love and bond with his great great grandfather and will have many fond memories of the time they’ve spent together. Grandparents are one of the most precious blessings in this world and having the opportunity to know your great great grandfather is rare indeed!

When Mommy Grows Up...

The sky is the limit!

As part of a school project, my kids and I have been talking a lot lately about what they might want to be when they grow up. My son wants to design vac trucks (the bigger the better!), drive a school bus, and play guitar and keyboard in a band. My daughter, also on the band kick, wants to be a rock star, as well as design clothes and be a cook at a restaurant. It is so refreshing to see their youthful, innocent enthusiasm! For them, the possibilities are truly endless.

And then, my daughter innocently asked me this week, “What you wanna be when you grow up, Mommy?”

Laying aside the fact that I’m already an adult and thus have been ‘grown up’ for quite some time, I gave it some thought. I remember when I was a little girl I had a huge list of things I wanted to accomplish by the time I was 30:

• Publish a book
• Become an astronaut and jump on the moon
• Train to be the NFL’s first female quarterback and win a Super Bowl
• Dig up a new species of dinosaur
• Build a machine that could turn Monopoly money into real money
• Design and build unique houses for famous people
• Become a singer/songwriter/rockin’ guitarist
• Develop super powers and fight crime

With my twenties winding down, let’s just say I’m falling a little short here on the life goals! Publish a book? Well, I’m getting close with this one…if only I could finish one novel, instead of starting a new one every few months. My astronaut ambition? With the NASA cuts and the physical strain of the training, it’s not going to happen…unless I write it into my book, of course.

NFL’s first female quarterback? Again, the physical strain would kill me…if the opposing team didn’t do it first. A dinosaur archaeological discovery? Hey, this could still happen someday, just not before I’m 30. Building a Monopoly money converter? It’s a lucrative idea but quite illegal (hello, money counterfeiting!).

An architect for the famous? I doubt it, but I still hope to design my dream house someday. A music career? Nope, that’s not going to happen either…although the songwriter part is still plausible. And my super hero dreams? Um, this one is probably the most unlikely out of all of them (read ‘virtually impossible’ here)…unless of course, I get so rich from my books and songs that I can hire a team of scientists to make me Iron Woman.

All kidding aside, I think I’ve made progress, but my life goals are still evolving. Perhaps we never do actually grow up in this sense, no matter how old we get. Life is all about changing, growing, and reinventing ourselves. What is important to us now may only be a distant memory tomorrow. I think what I want my children to learn the most from their school project is how important it is for them (1) to find the things they love, (2) to keep dreaming big, and (3) to never be afraid to start a new dream.

The Hurtful I-Hate-You's

My Daughter's Self-Portrait

Everyone seems to warn you about the terrible twos, the endless why’s, and the troubled teens.  But nothing I have ever read, discussed, or imagined prepared me for what I have come to call the hurtful I-hate-you’s!

My 5-and-a-half-year-old daughter has always been my sweet little princess.  She stole my heart the moment she looked up at me with those big brown eyes as I was holding her minutes after she entered this world.  She was my cuddle bunny, snuggling up with me every opportunity she could get and wrapping me in the softest hugs I have ever known.

Her smiles and giggles have brought so much life and happiness over the years.  And her silly sense of humor has filled even the worst days with laughter.  That’s why I was totally unprepared for the change that has taken over my lovable little girl.  Just about a month or so ago, in a fit of anger, her tiny little voice rocked my world with her first “I hate you, Mommy!”

Even though some time has passed, I still remember it like it was yesterday, the sting of her words keeping the shocking incident fresh in my mind.  One typical weekday morning, not long after the end of my children’s winter break, I was hard at work preparing for my kids’ cyberschooling.  My children were eating breakfast and watching cartoons in the living room.

When time came to begin the school day I told them to turn off the TV and go change out of their pajamas.  My son, without a fuss, turned off the television and went straight to his room to get dressed.  My daughter, on the other hand, starting pouting and complaining because I was interrupting the episode of Dora the Explorer she was so intently watching.  Despite my reassurances that it was a Dora rerun and readily available on Netflix for them to finish after school, she exploded.  She began yelling at me that it wasn’t fair and that she hated school—that it kept her from doing the things that she wants to do.

Taking the typical mother’s position, I sat her down and explained that school was necessary and that sometimes we all have to do things that we hate.  I suggested that she find some way to tolerate and get through it each day, so she could have more time to do fun things.  Well, that just infuriated her more.  I tried to reason with her again, to no avail.  And finally, she glared at me with her little mouth twisted into a sneer and screamed at me, “I hate you, Mommy!”

In utter shock and hurt, I sent her to her bedroom for a timeout—for both of us.  I went to my own bedroom and cried.  How could my sweet little girl hate me so?  Just a few short days before, we had been best friends.  We had a girls’ night in, taking turns styling each others’ hair and painting our nails together.  How could things change so drastically in less than a week?
Over the next few weeks, her fits grew worse and worse and the I-hate-you’s were used more and more.  I was at my wits end and so emotional that I didn’t know what to do!

In the end, it took a lot of soul searching and thinking before I finally got up the nerve to sit down with her this past weekend and talk to her about it.  After another I-hate-you incident, when all was calm and normal again, I called my little princess to sit next to me and we had a little heart-to-heart conversation.  I asked her how she felt when someone says mean things to her.  I allowed her to gone on and describe what she thinks and feels when such a thing happens.  And then I revealed to her what her heated words do to me.
She immediately frowned and told me that she doesn’t like when other people cry because it makes her sad and then she starts crying.

After that I asked her directly why she tells me she hates me during these situations.  Her tiny face scrunched up for a moment, as she mulled it over in her head.  Finally, she looked at me and said, “Mommy, I hate school.  It isn’t any fun.  And I think it is mean for you to make me do it.  I don’t get to play enough, so I hate when you tell me I can’t play.”

Confused, I asked her, “Does that mean that you don’t really hate me?”

Immediately, she replied, “I love you, Mommy.  I just get mad at you.”

You would not believe the relief I felt.  My daughter didn’t really hate me!  Since our little talk, the I-hate-you’s have stopped…for now.  I know that with the tumultuous moods my princess gets into these days chances are these hurtful words are bound to surface again.  But if they ever do, I’m prepared.  I now realize that this is only a stage she is going through—not the product of some poor parenting on my part.  And I now know in my heart that she still loves me, no matter how much she rants and raves to the contrary.

For those of you with young children who might be going through a similar phase, don’t take your little ones’ words at face value.  Young children often don’t have the ability to properly express and deal with their emotions.  And this is just a product of that immaturity.  Just do what you can to weather the storm and hold the beautiful memories and happy moments close to heart.  It will pass soon enough!

Teacher Tall Tales

My son showing off his first backpack

Now that my daughter has turned 5, both of my children will be in school come fall.  It is going to be the start of a great adventure for my daughter.  Lately, the realization that my princess is growing up fast has me thinking back to my own grade school days.

I remember that at first I HATED it, but then later I enjoyed it immensely.  My little brother, though, never seemed to really like school and went through quite a few periods when he insisted his teachers hated him.  He used to come up with all kinds of outlandish tales about his teachers, trying to justify to our parents why he should be allowed to stay home.  In fact, his tall tales inspired me to write this poem about 10 years ago:


Just ask my little brother
‘Bout his new teacher at school;
He’ll say she’s like no other
‘Cause she makes lava seem cool!

He claims she is a teacher
From deep outer space somewhere;
A mean and ugly creature
With large horns beneath her hair.

He imagines that she ate
All her students from before
For not staying at school late
And doing homework galore!

He says that she breathes fire
And vents smoke when she is mad.
He cries, “We’ll all expire
If we fail to keep her glad!”

Now can you understand why
My brother can’t go to school?
For to go would mean to die,
And that would make him a fool!


Although it is years later, I still find myself chuckling at my little brother’s crazy stories.  And I look at my own children now and often wonder if they might eventually do the same.  School is an exciting journey, but it is also so full of changes and new things that it can be a little scary, too.  I hope both of my children will have an easier time than I did during the first few years of school.  I will be reminding them every step of the way that they aren’t alone . . . that I’m there supporting them and rooting for them 100%!