Sometimes my kids say things on the fly that resonate with me for a long time afterwards. This following little Lewis phrase is one of those statements. Letting go is hard. In this case it was literal, but in parenting it seems I am always figuratively letting go of something I want to hold on to. “Mom, let go.” Those three words hit me like a punch to the gut. Hot tears fogged up my sunglasses. It was just the mastery of a 2-wheel bike, but it wasn’t. It was more. My six-year-old’s words echoed in my head as…
To those of you whose exposure to male children is minimal and/or whose faces turn varying shades of pink at the mention of certain body parts, please consider this a caution. You may not want to read my guest post at Ironic Mom today. It is not my typical blog post, but it is a true story plucked right out of my everyday life. One of those stories generally reserved for my “mommy-soul-mate” Marti. The friend God knew I needed long before I did. Between our combined six male children, we have some tales you probably wouldn’t believe if we…
Our family had our first “wilderness” adventure together this summer. With all of our necessities on our backs, we packed in to a primitive campsite on the Superior Hiking Trail and spent the night away from all modern conveniences. And we all came out alive. The boys filtered water from the Split Rock River, gathered firewood off the trail and set up their own tent. They inhaled their mountain meal like it was the most delicious food they had tasted in their lives, and Owen said he liked river water better than regular water. Aside from one child falling in…
I am happy to know that I’m not the only person in my family who expresses my frustrations in writing. Sometimes you just have to let the paper know how you feel.
We own Love You Forever. It’s stuck in the bookcase somewhere between Oh The Thinks You Can Think and Animal Alphabet. We read it every now and then, but it always makes me feel a little funny. It’s starts out lovely but gets increasingly more bizarro with the flip of each page. I would be concerned about my mother-in-law’s mental health if she drove to our place at night with a ladder strapped to her car and then climbed up the side of the house to enter through a second-story window. Wouldn’t you? That’s freaky enough, but if she then proceeded to…