I am. As sure as the sun rises in the east and warm cookies are like crack, I most certainly am smarter than a middle schooler.
Now if we’re talking prodigy then no, my IQ points won’t come out on top, but as for your average, run of the mill, hormone driven middle school student? Yeah. I got it covered.
So why are my kids convinced they can pull the wool over my eyes with, frankly, the lamest stories ever?
The learning curve is real. Really real.
Things I learned After Having Kids | All In A Dad’s Work
“My kids are not me
Oh hell… Who am I kidding. They’re more like me than I care to admit. From “I had it a minute ago, I don’t know where it is now.” To all the broken things. They could tear the hinges off of Hades if only I hadn’t torn them off when I was their age. However, they are more headstrong than I remember myself being. I was a go-with-the-flow kind of kid. These two are not. They know what they want and they are not afraid to ask for it. Or ask Nanny for it. They’re also not afraid to argue their point of view. They haven’t figured out this household isn’t a democracy.”
Mornings have a certain flow. Roll out of bed, grab a quick shower, throw on the clothes that (if I was smart) I laid out the night before. If I’m really lucky I’ll manage to get through all of this without hearing that knock and plaintive, “Mom?” at the door.
A girl can dream.
But when one part goes awry, well…that’s when the train really goes off the rails.
Foster parents are made of strong stuff.
They find it within themselves to open their hearts and homes to children in need, offering a stable life to young people struggling to find their way.
They work to maintain relationships between children and their biological families, often while those families are working through their own issues. They take charge over souls who have experienced unspeakable trauma and walk with them through the fire of recovery.
And they love these kids deeply, unconditionally, despite the fact that they might only be in their lives for a short while.
Picking noses. Dropping clipped toenails on the floor. Leaving dirty dishes in the sink. I’d say these are some pretty common annoyances across the general population.
I think we can agree that parenting brings its own particular brand of pet peeves to the party.
Lately I’ve been thinking about my younger days.
See that sweet face? (Yeah, BrightSide, too.) How innocent, how naive…ready to go along to get along, keep the peace, calm the waters no matter what.
Well, lately I’ve been thinking about what I’d tell that 20-something me.
Oh, the special joy of a winter storm. When a four inch layer falls overnight, covering your world with sleet and a bright fluffy snow that defies all logic for this area of North Carolina.
Children wake up bright eyed and fluffy tailed, ready to layer up and head out with sleds in hand. Despite the fact that it’s ten degrees outside. Regardless of their lack of proper snow boots (because, again, North Carolina). With barely a bite to eat they rush out the door, anxious to run madly through the snow.
And me? Well, I just try to keep up.
You will never guess where I am right this moment.
Well, at least eight of you will guess because you’re family and keep up with me in real time, but as for the rest of you? You will never guess where I am right this very moment.
In our nation’s capital. With Bear. And all the other fifth graders from her school.
That’s right! Less than two weeks after one of the country’s most contentious presidential elections…as protestors numbering in the thousands march the streets…while temperatures drop into the mid-forties for a high…we will be visiting Washington D.C.
Praise the Lord and pass the thermal underwear.