I’m not sure when the detail about “having fun” vanished, but seeing young boys with near tears in their eyes and disappointed faces in the dugout while they sit the bench isn’t my idea of fun.
Well, in our tiny village, we must be the BEST strongest soldiers because within the past five days, we have endured two life-altering battles. And we are still here for one another, holding each other up through all the pain.
I am just a sideline spectator now – watching with baited breath that he makes the right decisions and chooses the right path in life.
Walking on Legos is a rite of passage into parenthood.
I thought, well maybe I could write about being a mom to a teenager. After all, I do have one of those living in my basement at the moment. But, since he rarely talks to me, he doesn’t give me enough material to write a daily blog about his life. No cash there.
Yet the reason why I blog isn’t too tell others how to live their life, or to even complain about my own life. The reason I blog is to let other parents around the world know they are not alone.
People make weak attempts to skew the truth to make it work for them.
While Sarah’s dad is forever watching his family from Heaven, the Grafton mom has been given a second chance at life – that alone is the best Mother’s Day gift of them all.
Then “GROOVY DAY” comes along. Damnit. Just because I was BORN in the 1970s doesn’t mean I own shit from that decade.
By the final day, I wanted to wear a hand-made sign declaring, “PICK UP YOUR OWN SHIT” … My friend added: “YOUR MOMMA AIN’T HERE!”