The big day arrived last week. Alli and I went on our Washington, D.C. trip together and it blew me away. What blew me away, you ask? The kids.
I've written about feeling out of control in the past, and it's something I struggle with: when to let go and when to cling tightly.
When did I suddenly become invisible? And when did people in authority positions get so YOUNG? I think I know the answer to both questions, and it's not one I'm liking.
For Mother’s Day, the kids and my husband gave me the gift of time and labor. It was exactly what I wanted.
I've written before about my love for my little backyard, which I guess isn’t really that little (just ask my husband after he spends the afternoon mowing the lawn).
We sat in the car at a stop light and my daughter let out a nervous, “UUUGH!” I smiled at her and said, “Hey, you can do this.
My kids are growing into future adults. It’s hard to believe, but they are closer to adulthood than they are to having entered into this strange big world we call home.
It was rainy and kinda yucky outside as I ran from the van to the school.
As I was driving down West Jefferson Boulevard at lunchtime today, a blinding flash of lightning crashed just in front of me, followed quickly by a loud rumble of thunder.
Spring Break. Most people may think of sandy beaches, warm breezes, long afternoons with a book, and personally I’d love to add a tall glass of sweet tea on the side.