Dear Mother Nature and Old Man Winter, I’m not sure what the hell is going on with the two of your, but you need to get your act together. My children’s brains are slowly turning to mush because they have not used their brains since honestly Dec. 21. The three-day jaunt back to school last… Continue reading A note to Mother Nature and Old Man Winter
I am just a sideline spectator now – watching with baited breath that he makes the right decisions and chooses the right path in life.
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.
I felt her fingers touch my hair, quickly grabbing her arm, I clawed her – hard. I drew blood.
Their brains never ever stop working.
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!”
Between holiday parties, family gatherings and wrapping presents (which about 80 percent are still under the tree since once they were unwrapped at warp speed, they were tossed into the “I don’t want this shit” pile) I feel like I have had about 10 minutes to myself.
I get that of all the shit the kids can bring home from school, pink eye is the “best of the bunch” ...