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You’ve likely had moments when someone makes a subtle comment that you both know is a jab in your direction. It irritates you. You stew over it, thinking of the many ways you can defend yourself and point out their faults.

Sometimes, you should speak up and defend yourself. Sometimes it’s not good to stay quiet and let people walk all over you.

But often, it’s just the other person being small, and everyone in the room knows it. They don’t feel good about themselves, so they try to make others feel even lower. Insecure people are in a constant game of comparing themselves to others – sometimes they feel superior, but often they feel inferior. It’s an exhausting game of seeking equilibrium for their fragile ego.

I should know. I catch myself feeling inferior/superior on a regular basis. I would venture to say most of us do.

I will admit that I’ve written things as jabs that were…

We decided to have a rather low key (we heard Miss R say those words to Miss J) Thursday.
When we came in from the playground…we couldn’t go down to the field because Miss J and Miss R were worried it would be WAY too wet after the big storm yesterday…we were bummed, but we got over it.
Anyway…
When we came inside, after we washed our hands (with soap!) and sat on the couch, Miss R read KR-J’s book about Ladybug Girl. Then LM asked if we could please read more books, the ones with CD’s…and our Thursday morning was born.
We listened to a book Miss J chose, then one LM chose and one MN chose, and we have a couple saved for the next time we listen to books.

We didn’t make or do anything today…we just listened to books. We needed to sit with our friends…

Moi with the AWESOME Chuck Wendig…

Since homeschooling The Spawn, life has shifted dramatically as I struggle along this uncharted learning curve. For instance, it is a gorgeous summer this year. I’ve lived in Texas most of my life and never witnessed weather so balmy and beautiful. This morning, I step out to let the dog go bark at every thought scuttling through her brain (instead of going pee) and it’s oddly quiet. No kids. No squeals of riding bikes or rollerskating or plundering trash piles for construction materials for some ramp or fort or weapon.

When a Kid Could Be a Kid

When I was Spawn’s age, the second cartoons were over, we’d have been out the door for the entire day…willingly. Even though it was always triple-digit heat. Weather like THIS? We might have skipped the cartoons.

Okay, we’d have watched the good ones and not hung on…

Back When They Still Let Me Choose Their Clothes…

I hear it said to mothers of young kids all the time: You’re gonna miss this when they’re teens.

But here’s my counter-argument: Maybe you won’t.

I don’t.

Sure, every once in a while, I long for the feel of their baby soft skin and and a glimpse of their toothless grins.

But I don’t miss my kids’ early childhoods. I don’t miss potty-training and packing for a day trip like it was a month-long pilgrimage. I don’t miss tying the same shoes 439 times a day and wiping runny noses twice as much. I think teenagers are pretty darn fun, and I would never, ever want to go back. When I think about my time as a mother of babies and toddlers, it almost makes me break out in hives. The constant fatigue, the mindless TV shows, the annoying music…