thank you, Jesus, we have a plan

As far as I’m concerned, this is the 12-step program they ought to offer at middle school open house.  Bless.

“Step 1:  Admit that you are now powerless to control your tween’s emotions and their moods are now unmanageable.  During this step, just repeat as often as necessary, ‘My baby is still in there somewhere.  I just know it.’ “

A 12-Step Program For Parents Entering The Tween Years – Scary Mommy

D-o-n-e. Can I get an amen?

As those who know me can attest, I am a grown a** woman.  Sure, sometimes the laundry pile gets a little tall and maybe you’ll find dog hair tumbleweeds under the chairs, but I keep this place rolling.  The kids are dressed (usually in clean clothes, too), the dogs make it to their vet appointments, the family calendar is synced, and school stuff gets handled.

It’s like a well oiled machine around these parts.

Bwahahahahaha!  Just kidding.  We’re more like a squeaky wheel that occasionally needs extra air, but we’re holding our own.

And yet sometimes I’m done.  D-o-n-e, done.  We shall call this list:

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a dad’s life

Doyin’s real world dad education.  Preach.

“In 2016 I realized…

  1. Potty training has the ability to completely break my spirit.
  2. I bathed my kids at least three times as much as I bathed myself.
  3. I’ve been kicked, elbowed, head-butted, etc. in the Hang Low more times in the 5.5 years I’ve been a dad than in my whole pre-dad life combined.”

23 Things I Realized As a Dad in 2016 – Daddy Doin’ Work

parenthood, survival, and the clothing conundrum

This too shall pass.

The phrase passed from generation to generation, words meant to soothe souls and convince adults that they will indeed survive parenthood without killing their offspring.

It’s used to dull the pain of countless nerve stripping phases of your brood.  The screaming-through-the-night phase.  The unending-diaper-changing years.  The YOU-CAN’T-MAKE-ME, foot-stomping chapter.


One simple phrase intended to keep us from tearing our hair out or running wild in the streets.  So far, so good.

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dogs, Fritos, and that sticky spot in the kitchen

It’s not like I really needed the help to up the bizarre factor in my life – I’ve already had plenty of things that made me pause and cock my head.  But there’s no doubt about it: the arrival of children in our lives more than doubled my wtf moments.  Welcome to another edition of:

Things I Never Thought I’d Hear Myself Say

“Don’t poke the dog’s butt with the sword.  Seriously.  Don’t.”

“No, you really, truly are not getting a phone for Christmas.”

“How can you be disappointed?  I literally told you that you weren’t getting a phone for Christmas.  With actual words.  And hand gestures.”

“Why is the coffee maker sticky?  And the cabinet door above my head?”

“No, I can’t approve that app right now.  We’re on the interstate.”

“Be careful driving the go cart on the ice.”

(shoves handful of Doritos into mouth) “I have no idea why it smells like Fritos in here.  Oh, wait…that’s the dog.  The dog smells like Fritos.”

“Dear Baby Jesus, I’m sorry we use the word ‘suck’ so much.”

Interested in other peculiar moments in our crazy life?  Check out WHAT did I just say?!Things I never thought I’d say… and Things I never thought I’d say, part 2 .

5 days of nailing this parenting thing…except maybe not

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.

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anyone else up for social media limits?

I am this mom.  (Well, maybe not with the pink boa and countertop dancing, but I’m solidly on board with minors and social media.)  It’s remarkably hard to be the mom who says no when so many parents around me are saying yes.  To hold my own against request after request, seeing the disappointment in the kids’ eyes each time, knowing they think I’m a shrew.

Parenting.  Sheesh.

“Sorry, Charlie, but I don’t believe any child under 13 has any business on social media.

There.  I said it…

As much as I know I can lock down my kids’ accounts and keep their internet sharing private, here’s the thing: I know what I post on my social media accounts, and I don’t want them seeing what I do in my grown-up space on the internet.  And I don’t want your 11-year-old to see what I post either, thank you very much.”

Why I’m Not Accepting Your Kid’s Social Media Request – Scary Mommy

SoCS – parenting struggles when mama bear shows up

I can see the bare trees in the background as I sit talking with T-man, trying to walk the line between the white hot fire burning in my belly and having a meaningful conversation about how to navigate in this world.

Because who better to talk to my dark skinned son about handling racist comments than his white mama?  Yeah, that’s what I thought, too, but he’s stuck with me so we wade into those waters.


I think of the KKK who dared to show its ugly face in my state, throwing a parade in celebration of the election, and the look on my kids’ faces when BrightSide said there’d been reports of a cross burning in the original parade location.

I see the bare branches swaying and I think of switches and beatings and ugliness that simmers just below the surface, only sometimes in our area of the south it doesn’t burrow too far down. It throws just enough paint on to pass itself off as harmless jokes or southern pride; it’s muttered in an undertone that can be written off as something you misheard.

I tell T-man that we’re fighting to provide him with a safe learning environment, but responsible parenting demands that we tell him he’ll meet assholes like this his entire life.  We wish it weren’t so but it is, and he’ll need to find ways to handle it.  I remind him that there’s a great deal of mama bear raising up in me right now, that the claws are out…and I ask if he’s ever considered turning to this particular kid with the smart mouth and telling him to go to hell.

But my pacifist son is horrified.  He doesn’t want to tell him that.  I don’t tell T-man this is all I want to tell that kid, preferably while giving his arm a nice hard twist, ’cause grownups aren’t supposed to act like that.  Apparently.

I always thought the winter trees were starkly beautiful, standing bare against the smooth gray sky, but today they look dangerous.  Menacing.  And I dream of the day when my twelve-year-old son won’t be made to feel like an outsider because his skin is brown.

SoCS 2

Linda’s weekly Stream of Consciousness prompt is open to one and all.  Click the link to check out its rules and participating blogs.  This week’s prompt is “bear/bare.”