Dream Chasers

It's been a while.
But, while my blog has been bare for the past few months, my life has overflowed. I finished writing my tenth novel--one that took every piece of my heart to write. The journey of writing that story was a healing one...which, if it is ever published, and you read it, you might understand why.

In my non-writing life, I've been the mother hen ushering kids this way and that, giving pep talks, volunteering, working, wondering, considering, and everything that goes with being a human in this day and age of social media onslaught, biased news filtering, and noisy opinion-makers crowding my ears.

But, there has been a steadiness, and I find it in these things:

My mediation on what God is up to in all of it
The dreams brewing beneath the roof of my home
The hearts needing fostering during those dream chases

And today, I am inspired to declare that because I have been a dream chaser with each and every newly written book for publication, I have suddenly discovered my dual purpose in mentoring my own son--a dream chaser like his mama.

His dream is different than mine, but his heart, his passion, his motivation is probably more than I have ever felt--and if you know me and my tendency to be overly passionate about my dreams, then you know that it's a great feat for my son to outshine my dream pursuit with his own.

When I think of dream chasing on an optimistic day, I see speed gained, the tunnel light growing like the newborn sun. But when I think of dream chasing on a pessimistic swing (these happen way more than I care to admit), I think of the leap and the face flat crash, the light is snuffed like a flame extinguished between the grubby fingers of reality.

For me, even the latter is bearable. I can swallow my disappointment and focus on the present. Push aside the dream, chasing for the very real joys and triumphs of life as a mom, a friend, a wife. Yet, when it is my own son whose dream plays hard to get, whose effort is outstanding but not enough by his own measure, I am willing to bargain with God and trade my dream-coming-true for my son's.

Perhaps this is the very crux of the gospel. Christ gave up his life so that we might live outside the darkness. And in this lenten walk of mine, I know that to be true...that a parent's journey is never triumphant if their child's left in despair.

I would give up my dream so my son could fulfill his. There really is no doubt it. And in this realization, I am grateful for my own dream chasing because while I once gave it credit as growing me and teaching me perseverance in God's calling, perhaps another more selfless purpose is to align me with my son, to give me understanding of his deep passion for something bigger than himself, and to keep me his steady encourager during those optimistic days, and his gospel whisperer during his disappointments.
For the gospel is sweet, it's true, it's the ultimate dream come true, and every dream chase can find hope in what lies ahead because of the gospel. The first dream-come-true.

Good Enough for Me.

“Good enough is better than perfect.” 

—my architecture prof of yesteryear

 When it comes to housework, part of me has always wanted to be that type-A, get it done, everything in its place, perfection is close by type of soul. But, I often butt up against a mix of waning desire and “good enough” mantra. My good enough—a pile of laundry building in a contained spot, a sink of dishes, a makeup-less outing—taunts me because I fail that newest article, that guru’s how-to’s, that person declaring I should be the Proverbs 31 housekeeper. I have even heard the disheartening theory that your outside mess reflects what’s going on on the inside.

 I will call out that lie.

Sounds like disguised materialism to me (hehe).

That’s all out wrong thinking. For me, it only leaves me defeated because I am never going to measure up...I'll clean and organize, but I stink at maintaining. And then listening to all the "advice" out there, only makes me flounder in failure...it steals my chances for joy in what matters. For me, making home, good appearances, fitness goals—🥺—is weighted only in the good enoughs to get to the better stuff.

 I finally figured out why my good enough leaves me with gentle chaos poo-poo’d by HGTV and homemaking professionals...

 I’d rather write.

         I’d rather go to lunch with a friend.

                        I’d rather cozy up on the couch with my husband and laugh at a good show.

(um...my love language is a mixture of creativity and quality time...50/50 of both, I'd say).

 The contained mess sits because of my “good enough” to get to the “very best” of what I love. If it’s good enough for me, then I don’t need perfection. I think everyone’s good enough is different. Finally, I am realizing this. Another’s good enough is not the same as mine. I need to celebrate others’ good enoughs more, and not try and imitate them so much. I’ve caught myself thinking I am not doing life right when I compare myself.

But, I look around—and life is pretty good. Even in my messy house, my unorganized purse, my crumb-ridden car. Life is still good.

Good enough for me. 💕

A Smallness

I was always told as a child, that adults are bigger, smarter. I have this glitch in my brain code telling me that I need to stomp my foot and demand my children listen to me. I need to be bigger and smarter. I am the grown up, I am the mom, I am the person God put in charge of YOU, CHILD!

I hang my head and wag it back and forth while they look at me with wide eyes, and an even wider attempt to completely ignore me.

All talk, Mama.

All puffed up chest, forceful words, arrogant example for the kids I tell not to be arrogant.

Hypocrite, maybe. Poor parenting. Terrible perspective. Defeated. Failing. Unfaithful. Unwise.

Okay, this spiral just hit the bottom and everything's flying. I am trying to grasp my hope, while camping in a parenting fail.

But, when I get here, to this familiar destruction, I am tempted to let go of hope, and fly...maybe run away to apathy or self-centeredness, or book a gazillion girls' nights and maybe a solo vacay somewhere. Honestly, I think a few of those ideas have their very important place, and I might just do at least one girls' night and vacay soon. But, for now, I try to find Truth to suck away this storm, and it's all about looking in the mirror and really seeing the problem.

It's me.

Why me? Don't you respect ME, CHILD? It's all about YOU doing good for ME!

 I've been parenting out of pride, in old patterns, without the truth that's been planted long ago.

Ugh.

All talk, Mama.

I know in my heart, I want better for my children, for me. I have bought into Christ's economy. Small is big. The least of these is the most. The gentle spirit is bold. Love over success. Why do I always need a reminder? But I do. And I sought one today.  I listened to Sharon Hodde Miller, and her words calm my storm and remind me what I want to live for:

"Humility is a smallness we freely choose. It is a glad lowering. It is possessing an identity firmly planted in Christ, which means it has nothing to prove." 

A glad lowering. Not just a lowering, but a glad one. Can I smile again? Can I let these quick blips just be blips and smile with my children again? And can I do if just because it's my God's example, and not try and prove that I am doing it, but that I am able to sit in smallness with lips firmly shut?

No talk, Mama. My kids aren't the only ones going through growing pains. Ouch. Heart growing hurts. But, I know it's worth it.

Hungry Bellies

I was starving today. I rushed to Target before school pick up, and sat with some cheese and crackers, a bit of fruit, in my lap, ready to devour. This snack is nothing, though. Not a drop in my bucket, really. Just another quick bite of many other quick bites, big bites, hearty meals. 

This is nothing compared to the bags we packed for my son’s fellow schoolmates. No, I just wanted a little something, but those bags were filled with a lot more. Maybe a little everything they would eat over the weekend.

The counselor used words like: insecure, hiding food, storing food from the lunch room, asking for snacks multiple times throughout a school day. Embarrassed. Identified. Hungry. 

These words describe kids that sit next to my well-fed son. These kids walk the halls of a school filled with Nikes, Jansport, iPads, Organic lunches, Non-GMO snacks, braces, retainers, clean clothes...and all they want is something in their belly.

I am the first one to say that I am thankful for all I can give my kids, and I know that I take it for granted too much. But, I nearly lost it today at the matter-of-fact explanation of our target recipients of the sacks of Mac n cheese and granola bars. I could hardly keep it together.

These are babies. 

And they are hungry. 

And it IS up to those of us given much to care for them—no matter what. No matter background or bias.

Thank GOD for schools, counselors, teachers, administrations who must step in for the parents who just can’t give good things to their children—whatever their reason—because there is no reason NO EXCUSE that one child in this country should wonder how they will eat on a weekend.

Not one.

My Take on "The Future is Female"

I never grew up thinking of myself as less than a man. My parents never told me, "You need to be submissive to your husband and stay home." Actually, they encouraged me to reach for the stars...to go to college...to attain that dream career path. I received a Bachelors for a five year program, and now have two books published. I have two sisters--one has a PHD, and one has a Masters and a new, second career path that is blossoming. And we all have families, too. We got the cake and ate it...and are enjoying life without the hogwash of "I am just a girl".

When I became a young adult, I heard mention of the glass ceiling, but I didn't really pay much attention. After I graduated from college, I got five job offers with reputable firms. I worked with men and women alike. Sometimes, I heard negative comments about women, and maybe I wasn't making as much as the guy in the next cubicle...I can't really be sure because I never asked. But, I never felt "less".

I will admit, the first time I found myself exploring the gender-superiority battle was in Bible studies. Other women and I would wade in and out of passages about submission, women as leaders in church, and the examples of Biblical characters. One cannot go very far into these ideas without finding out that there really is a deeper level of truth--there really is this amazing God who created us EQUAL. Different, but equal. I'll not get into that right now...it deals with original language, and history, and interpretation. If you want, explore it. You'll be surprised at the beauty of equality in mankind.

When I stepped into motherhood, and became a mama of three small boys, I never thought of them as being superior to my friends' little girls. I assumed they were on the same track of opportunities and successes as every other little boy AND girl. But then...I had my daughter. And, my eyes, and ears, and heart were tripped up by the gender-sided comments about "that's for girls", and "pink is a girl color," and, "stop being a girl". As my daughter grows, and my sons become young men, the comments have evolved to, "girls rule, boys drool," and "girls are better than boys," and "girl power".

I have three sons with amazing potential to do great things. I have a daughter with amazing potential to do great things. And they are being raised against a backdrop of culture that shouts, "GENDER EQUALITY"...which I totally agree with. I raise my sons to know their sister can achieve just as much, can work just as hard, and is to be respected and honored just like anyone else.

Every once in a while, though...the scales tip, and my sons begin to slide down, my heart begins to quicken, and my language gets muddled on my tongue and I wonder whose identity I need to protect most?

The other day, I walked into Target and there was an end cap with a sign doting,

"The Future is Female."

Huh?

How is that for Gender Equality?

Um...yeah, it's not. And, my eyes are being opened more and more each day to this growing idea. I have a son who tells me that girls at his school respond to his comment, "Ladies first," with, "Don't assume my gender" (no joke), and I have a son who comes to me perplexed because girls are saying that they are "better than me because I am a boy."

Of course, these are just kids being kids. OR are they?

Have we overcorrected as a culture striving for equality? 

I get it. I get the invigorating ability to finally feel unbound by old sentiments and break free of some stifling cultural norms. Women have so much to offer. We've always had so much to offer, and the gender has been ignored and abused and oppressed century after century...it is about time we stood up and said:

NO MORE.

We need to level the playing field. But, I don't feel like it's level.

Who are we marginalizing in our wake? Why does it have to be girls vs. boys? I promise you, my
sons aren't the chauvinists who suppressed women in all the centuries before. I promise you that because my husband is male and my sons are male, and my father is male, they don't expect girls to "run like a girl," to "dress in pink," to "waste a career on homemaking"...or whatever old sentiments are being slashed to shreds by "girl power" (even though I align with all three of those sentiments without hesitation, and without thinking I am "less" LOL. But my little girl...she runs fast, and hard, dresses in pink, red, blue, and yellow...and LOVES playing house, and school, and spies, and whatever else her heart desires in the moment.)

My boys try to understand the world just as much as the girl...and all the kids who are misunderstanding what gender equality means. And because of this false interpretation, my boys are being told they are less...that the "future is female"...that because of centuries of chauvinists it's "about time that girls are dominant." Huh? That is not okay. That is two wrongs not equaling a right. It is messed up and broken and infuriating to this EQUAL RIGHTS advocate--this EDUCATED mama who has researched and understands the sickness of oppression and discrimination--this 21st century parent who understands the BEAUTY OF GENDER differences, and views the boy and the girl as two creations making a whole unifying society. Different, equal, and purposefully made alongside each other...to pave a glorious future together. NOT to edge each other out.

Equality will never happen if one side is trying to prove itself more than the other. Raising boys and a girl, I could never justify the worth of one child over the other. I would never assign value to a human being based on stature, skin color, or culture. Why would I expect the value of my child to be considered worth more based on gender? Especially after all we've fought for to prove EQUALITY RULES.

So...just...why?

A Mama Can Only Wonder

In my current work-in-progress, my characters have deep loss woven into their back stories, and they
must move forward regardless of the pain.

I think I just described every journey in the human experience. Hopefully, I can write the story in such a way that it's unique enough, yet familiar enough to find its way to shelves one day.

Lately, I've been good. After my enlightening walk through October (you can read it here), and a focus on my family this November, the first day of December promises a continued sprouting joy, and a promise of peace regardless of what's going on around me.

That's me. That's my condition.

But of course, I am not an island, and my heart's threads are strung up like Christmas lights upon the hearts of my children. Today, I can't shake knowing the loss in my children's life because of wrong words and painful rejection--at no fault of their own--and the curiosity is killing me to know how it's affecting them.
As an author, I dissect my characters' strife and hold it up to the light, looking for chances of redemption, but as a mama, I can't peek inside my children's souls and do the same. I can only pray for them. Sure, I can talk to them and rip off the bandaids of silence and try and doctor the wounds myself, but, as we all know, who wants someone digging up the garbage of their pain?

I just sit. And pray. And mourn the crap that they've found along this journey of human experience. Words hurt. Assumptions hurt. When I suffer from such things, I am forever licking my wounds trying to make sense of the why. Do our children do the same? Do they have the insight into pondering the why? In a selfish, ridiculous sense, I hope not. I hope that they just shrug it off, and let it roll away like  raindrops on a window pane--not caring deep enough yet for the crazy mistakes people make. My daughter seems to take life that way. At her young age of six, she is quick to change the topic when it's about a mean kid or a sad instance. But, I know the hurt's not completely gone. I know she's just pushing it aside because it's too much to feel for her little soul.

When will those grievances finally build up enough to push on her heart in such a way she can no longer ignore them?

Life is messy. It hurts to be on the outside looking in, and knowing you are out of control. Actually, that's one thing I learned in October. I try too hard to control others. I apologize because I want to control the peace. I talk waaaay too much and overanalyze so I can find compromise and common ground and be liked and like back. I pick and prod at my children's feelings so I can counsel them and lead them to joy and peace.

But it's not my job.

I am only effective if they are willing to listen. If they are ready to peek beneath the bandages and begin to investigate their hurts--with me guiding them.

My perspective on life has shifted in a good way, but my heart will always feel more than it probably should, and my mind will always travel the roads of others' human experiences--especially my children--aching to inspect how to find redemption for their losses.

Thank God for the calling to write. At least there, I can dive deep, and create alongside the only Redeemer who remembers no grief and wants to throw the bandaids away.

What's a mama writer to do with the non-fiction silence though? Right now, I know I just pray. Love my kids big, and pray that their character arcs are bathed in redemption that only One can bring in full.

This Mess.

Every day, I pick up a pair of socks. They aren't neatly balled up together, keeping their pair status. Usually, I find one hanging on the cabinet below our t.v., and the other one across the room, tucked beneath the recliner.

Every day, I find legos on the carpet...most of the time I spy them before I yelp in pain. And along with the legos, I usually find loose change, a candy wrapper, and a broken pencil scattered about our main level. Thank goodness we don't have babies anymore.

I wish I could say that every day I just pick all the items up and put them where they belong, then gently remind my children to clean up after themselves. Or, that I leave them, and wait until the kids are around to use their mess as a chance for them to practice cleaning up...once again.

But in all honesty, I usually grab the socks and stomp across the room to bottom of the stairs and yell, "You left your socks all over the living room! How many times do I have to tell you..."

Unfortunately, a daily ritual.

There are many more messes about our house. I look around right now, and see the sink filled with dishes. I picture our upstairs balcony area, covered with laundry, and I cringe at the thought of the crowded-with-junk and books with broken bindings in each of my children's rooms. If I fling my thoughts outside our walls, I can easily roll my eyes at the untidy garage, and the Izzy cans strewn across our second garage. Oh, and the chalk and dead leaves, and the chewed up baseballs from our crazy "retired" hunting dog.

Besides our messy schedules, I am trying to cope with our messy house. And, until today, I've done a poor job of it. I've let it become emotional, I've enslaved my thoughts into this only-get-out-of-jail-free card-if-everything-is-spic-and-span reality, and only THEN can I relax.

Until today.

As I washed the first round of dishes (yes, I did that this morning, and still have more this afternoon), I chose to pray gratitude for my kiddos. Everyone had left for school, and it was just me and the mess. The creatures that made the mess were gone.

And I realized something.

This mess is proof of the life. 

And this is the life I've wanted all along. I've wasted so much breath and worry on the messiness and the possibility of someone showing up at any moment to judge my mess. Seriously. That's how bad it is. I've set up these expectations in my mind of what would make me a "good" mom, a "good" homeowner, a "good" wife, and I've caught myself striving more toward the expectations than toward the life that has been given me--the joy of sitting with my kids after school, ignoring the mess, and just being part of the life. Their life.

Gratitude for the life is so much more freeing than scrutiny for the mess. After all, one day, there will be no little lives around to love on. And the absent mess will be proof in my memory that so much life is behind me.

I want to keep that life right here, right now.

Time is running at lightening speed. And I've wasted enough of my energy fighting the clock, instead of enjoying the seconds of life within these walls.

So much life is around me. So much more life than I could have ever imagined twenty years ago. And as I look about me, I know this is my reality. This is life.

And this mess is proof of that.

Living Life Without God: Faith-(re)filled Friday

I've been living life without God.

I mean, I've been giving Him credit when it's due, and I've been reading scripture, attending church...yada yada yada.

But, when it comes to leaning into Him during weakness, worldliness, and times of want? I don't even know how.

I've forgotten my practice of turning to Him first. I've become obsessed with success and striving and fairness and using my own effort to gain what I want.

Do I even get it? Nope. Usually, all the attempts brings me to more problems, bigger heart wounds, and basically, a dark chasm that sucks me in.

I can't focus on the cross ahead...just the darkness below, promising me "If you just do this, say this, believe this way...you'll get everything you want."

I am in the desert with the devil, being told to jump. And doing it.

Life without God is deceiving. It makes me think I am strong and able, but really, I am weak, like a fragile shell ready to snap at the next pressure I choose to tackle on my own.

Parenting has been my greatest microscope into my heart. Because, it's when I am talking with my children, dealing with their own dramas, that I find myself giving advice that sounds more like a secular counselor than a spirit-guided parent. My tongue very nearly gets tied when I try to apply God's truth to the situation.

But then, in the quiet of night, I am lured by a tiny flame. A muted hush of a whisper, an old memory that's been piled on by hardships and heartaches, a memory of this friend of mine who had offered me peace in the face of every little thing and every big thing and I used to tap into that and rest. That was when Life was with God.

I want that again. My children need that again. I am the only one that gives it to them around here. Destruction is just around the corner if I don't. I can see their character manipulated into selfishness, materialism, and entitlement. And I see the obstacles tripping them into that dark chasm of life without God...where nobody waits to catch them, and they are forced to scramble around on their own.

On this Faith-Filled Friday, I pray for a complete refilling of the faith I've left behind. My children need hope again. They need help. They need assurance in something or someOne greater than themselves. And me.

6lbs 9oz bundle in 5th grade: Mama-Drama Monday

6lbs 9oz bundle. Yeah. That's how I will always think of him. Even though he is entering fifth grade, his last year of elementary school, he'll always be my littlest infant who cried his way through the first three months of life.

Funny, because now, he is a Mr. Laid Back, Easy Going, Friend-to-Everyone, kinda guy. Guess he got his protesting out of his system at the expense of mama's sleep and sanity ten years ago.

from his scrapbook...6lbs 9oz

I have been thinking about how much I've looked at my thirteen year old, and not given a ton of thought to the transition of my second oldest. It's easy to focus on the oldest one...he embarks on new territory for us as parents every day. And it's easy to focus on the youngest two...they still need a lot of our time and attention. But my ten year old gets the "oh, your brother has done this," or "you'll be fine, we know it's easy," or "this is nothing we haven't been through before."

But for him? It's still new, it's still the first time. I have got to remember this. It is his last year of elementary school...and he will take his first steps toward that milestone tomorrow. And that's special. Just as special as it was for my oldest.

I am starting to regret the moments past where I just wanted sleep instead of staring in his baby blues. Because now, life is busy, and he is mobile, and he is social. And time speeds by, and those beautiful eyes become a blur most days.

Mama might just cry, thinking how big he is, and how much he's grown in character. But really, I'll always see him as that 6 lb 9 oz bundle.

What My Daughter Needs, World!

Ever wish you could have the whole world's attention? Not in a vain way, but in a plea or a shout for change? As I raise three boys and one little girl in this ever-changing place, I cannot help but form a kind of 'call to action' for each of my children, but lately, for my daughter's sake.

She's a wide-eyed, ever-laughing, ever-dreaming four year old girl. And there is so much life and potential in her and so much I want for her future.

If I could grab the world's attention, these are a few line items I'd ask for in my 'call to action' on behalf of my daughter:

Value her. She is a precious girl. Don't minimize that. Don't excuse it. Don't act as though there is nothing special about her being a 'girl'. When she runs like a girl, she runs fast and hard. When she plays like a girl, she nurtures and dreams and pays attention to details and personalities and choreography. She is a girl, and she is special in that. She is a girl and there is power in that. She is a girl and there is blessing in that. Don't put shame on her for embracing her gender, for leaning into her bent, for loving pink.

Protect her. There is an innocence aflame in her heart, and she deserves to kindle it throughout her childhood. There is no reason she should learn the evils of the human condition just yet. Let her plant her feet firmly in goodness and hope-sure armor for your woes in the future. Remember the little eyes, the young ears, the shaping heart, and try to respect the newness of a child's mind. Don't let your bitterness, apathy, unreachable ideals forget about purity and the importance of maturity. 

Be kind to her. She is an openly loving, carefree little girl and she doesn't expect anything less than kindness. When you, World, shout  ideals and legislation and agendas, remember that she expects kindness. Her opinions and ideas and dreams might not line up with the status quo, but kindness matters no matter what.

These are giant requests. Unreasonable, for sure. But if I could stand on the world's soapbox, I would. For her.

What I Want To Say To My Son

I want to say:

You aren't into girls yet. Really. You think you are because of the buzz around you...because of the friends talking about break ups and crushes and hotties. But that's not you. That doesn't define you, no matter how much you want it to.
Yeah, it's "cool" to be "taken". It's a confidence booster to have a girl "commit" herself to you. But that's no reason to follow the crowd.
Actually, that's a red flag there. That's you seeking affirmation in the wrong place. That's you putting your worth in the hands of another and in the perceptions of others.

The thing is, I have always wanted to protect your heart. I wanted something for you that was better than I received at your age. When I was your age, I desperately avoided looking gullible and in-the-dark. I was eager to listen to anyone and everyone to understand the ways of the world out there. And I got most of my information outside of my home, from the mouths of other kids. It was just how I thought I would learn things. My parents were not my first resource. They were usually a last resort.

I so wanted something different for you. You were raised in a home with two parents who tried their best to balance appropriateness with honesty. We didn't want you to learn things faster than you should, but we didn't want to keep you in a bubble. The older we get, we realize that honesty is the best policy.

But we can't sit on your shoulder. We can't be there for you to answer those questions you have when your friends mention things you don't understand. We can't guard your heart for you.

Only you can do that.

Only you can choose the path of a conversation, and the need-to-know. It's sooo hard. You are curious. And that's okay. But just remember, once you hear or see something, you can't erase it. It's in your mind...and it can root in your heart if you focus on it too much. It can distort your view of yourself and the world around you. 

It's okay to stand tall and walk away. Even from that friend. If they're your true friend, they'll respect you in that. It's okay to back off of this "relationship" thing. Not in a mean way, not in a hurtful way, just in a personal decision to back your heart away, and remember who you are truly. In the eyes of your mom, your dad, and your Creator. You are a confident, responsible, insanely smart, loyal friend, growing Christian, super athlete, firstborn, brother...BIG brother...and most of all, a DIFFERENCE MAKER. 

Or, you can be.

If you act on it. Yes. You can make a difference in this world, one that matters. Don't let the buzz, the friends, and the world distract you from your calling to greatness.

Son, remember who you are, and stay true to yourself. No pressure here, no condemnation. Just love. 

That's what I would say. Should I?

Target Run Memory Maker

"Thank you for letting me go with you," my four-year old said when we pulled away from...Target. It wasn't the pool, the playground, or the ice cream shop. It was a quick run to finish up some last minute road-trip shopping.

Today was a long day of me finishing up some writing and mothering and packing six people. I tried to take a momma-break this evening aka retail therapy. But my little girl wanted to tag along, even crying big ol' crocodile tears as I got in my car.

I could have just bribed her with, "I'll bring you a surprise," or I could have ask my husband to come to the rescue and distract her... I'll admit that those are not unordinary options around here.

But, instead, I scooped her up and invited her to come with me.

And, without trying or even planning, I think we made some memories--enough so that she genuinely thanked me as we left the parking lot. I am glad she'll have the fun mommy-and-me shopping trip to remember instead of the car pulling from the drive leaving her behind.

Trust me, there will be plenty more times that I'll choose differently, but tonight I realized the need to try and keep those times balanced with opportunities to include my daughter. All too often, I try and push time along for my own desire of peace...quiet...alone time.

I know it's important. I am a big advocate of "pour into yourself so you can pour out into others." But, I'll think more carefully next time my child begs to go with me on an errand.

One day, she won't ask to go anymore, and I'll have more peace and quiet than I might never want.

Mama Drama Monday

I have thrown many fits over this Mama Drama experience. I don't like to sleep...but kids make me tired!

(BTW....Check out my post at The Writer's Alley today...it's inspired by my mama journey AND my writing one!)

Mama Drama Monday

Ever done this? When you're parked, of course!

Be sure to stop by The Writer's Alley today...I have a post up about Facebook partying!

Happy Monday!