They are the only other human beings on this earth who, like me, become mind-numbingly paralyzed once a year.

At mammogram time.

My husband John doesn’t get it.  The week before my mammogram, I become increasingly quiet.   I’m wondering about the woman he’ll take up with after I die of breast cancer.  Oblivious to my suffering, he glares at the t.v. screen to spar with Bill O’Reilly.

One day, shortly before my yearly mammogram, the two of us walked companionably around the duck pond in the peaceful shadows of late afternoon.

“I want my brother Tom to give my eulogy,” I suddenly blurted.

He stared at me.

“Just try to remember,” I choked with emotion.

He shook his head in bewilderment.

But my sisters understand completely.  Four of us have endured breast biopsies, and all five of us have meticulously planned our funerals.  As well, we have pondered which women would fill in admirably as new wives and mothers to our husbands and children.  They should be women who are wonderful and kind.  But not TOO wonderful and  kind.  And not too cute.  In fact, not cute at all.

In addition, my sisters and I have made a pact.  It is absolutely understood that if one of us is lying in an irreversible coma, it will be the responsibility of the others to sneak into our hospital room to discreetly remove any embarrassing facial hair.

We’ve pretty much got all our bases covered.

But only my sisters understand.

And that’s because of Mom.

We were just a young family when Mom discovered a lump in her breast.  She was 45 years old and beautiful and funny.  It was 1976, and the idea that any thing like cancer could touch our big happy family was unthinkable.

But three weeks later, Mom had an operation to biopsy the lump and woke up without a breast.  That’s the way it was done in1976.  The cancer had already spread, and Mom started radiation treatments immediately.  There was no suggestion of chemotherapy at the time.  But when it became clear that Mom’s cancer had spread to her spine, the doctors removed her ovaries in a last ditch attempt to slow its deadly progress.   By that time, however, tiny tumors were already growing on her skull and pressing against her eyeball robbing her of her vision.

She died in 1979 at the age of 48.

Those three years were filled with heartbreak.  My youngest brother Jeff was only four years old when Mom was diagnosed.   During one of Mom’s stays in the hospital, I remember watching him crawl into my parents’ bed one early morning to clutch Mom’s pillow.

“Mommy,” he sighed sleepily.

My sisters Deb and Mary, who were only teenagers, were suddenly thrust into the roles of cook and housekeeper.  And when my dad, bone weary from dealing with my mother’s illness and trying to care for ten kids, would walk through the door every night after work, my sisters tried to protect him.

“Don’t tell him Mom cried today,” they’d warn my other siblings.

But mostly I remember the end.  When Mom died, my little brothers and sisters could hardly bear it.  Huddled closely around my dad, the ten of us shuffled up to her casket at the funeral home to view her body for the first time.  The four little ones suddenly collapsed onto Dad’s lap, sobbing and clinging to him.  I will never forget how he comforted them as tears streamed down his own face.

Cancer changed our family forever.  It even broke us for just a little while.  But ultimately, we learned to depend on each other.  Even in our adult lives, my brothers and sisters and I are each others’ best friends.

There have been those times when I missed Mom so much that it was a physical ache - my wedding day, when I was pregnant with our first baby, when Dad died.  I was at my son’s basketball game some years ago sitting behind a woman about my age who leaned over and whispered to her mother.  They laughed and embraced, and I felt such a stab of longing.

But then I remember my family - my husband John, my sons, my step mom, my siblings, my in-laws.  The whole dysfunctional clan.  Cancer has taught me that what my dad always said is true - family is every thing.

And even though my sisters and I suffer temporary insanity every year when it’s time for our mammograms, we know how lucky we are.  There were no mammograms in 1976 - no stereotactic biopsies, no chemotherapy, no drugs like tamoxifen to stop a deadly, aggressive cancer.  It’s because of Mom that my sisters and I remain ever vigilant, ready to stop the enemy.

Cancer taught us something else.  It couldn’t take Mom away.  Not really.  I see her in my sisters.  In Deb’s soothing voice.  In Mary’s expressive brown eyes.  In Terri’s quirky humor.  In Caroline’s adventurous spirit.  And sometimes, when we all gather together, along with our lovely and tolerant stepmother Kris, who is more sister than parent, the stories we share from those distant happy days of our youth render us helpless.  We laugh so hard it hurts.  And in the middle of our hoots and cackling, I swear I hear the ghost of a familiar and much loved giggle.

Cancer does not have the power to take our loved ones away.  We just have to find them.   I find Mom again every day - in precious photos, in the winter coat she once wore, in the way a small niece tilts her head just so...

I find her in my brothers and sisters.  They fill the aching void in my heart and show me what I think I’ve always known - love is more powerful than any thing.

Even cancer.

Blogger Cathy Howard has written two award winning stories for American Mothers Inc. and has been published in two CHICKEN SOUP books and two CUP OF COMFORT book series.  She teaches high school English at Grand Island Central Catholic High School in Grand Island, Nebraska, where her husband of 29 years also teaches.  They have two sons, Kenny and Tommy, and two cats.

In 2010, Cathy’s sister Terri was diagnosed with breast cancer.  She underwent a double mastectomy and is cancer free today.  Cathy and her sisters Deb and Mary elected to undergo preventive double mastectomies to reduce their high family risk of breast cancer.  All are healthy and well today! Cathy blogged about their experience for the OMAHA WORLD HERALD’S LIVE WELL online magazine.  You can find Cathy’s blog at previvors-foursisters.blogspot.com)

I was talking with my friend Rachel Shingleton a while back, and she brought up an interesting question that someone had once asked her: what was the eternal significance of her creative efforts? I’m pretty sure the person who posed the question must have been living under the assumption that for any of us to do any good on this earth that we must forsake all our wordly belongings and go preach the gospel to natives. And if that’s the way the way anyone thinks, then I’m sorry, because it means that you probably feel very limited in your own abilities to make an eternal impact right where you are. But the question stuck with me, and I’ve thought about it several times since chatting with Rachel.

Fast forward a few months. I was emailing with my friend and client, Holly Mathis. I had asked her to think about what her calling and purpose was. She had responded with the wording that “beauty ministered” to her. I related immensely to the statement. When the world around us is crazy and out of control, whether it’s our home, our neighborhood, or even our community in a larger aspect, sometimes a “little slice of heaven” can be a calming relief.

If you’re a mama and an entrepreneur, or one or the other, I have a feeling you might know what I mean. Yesterday, I spent the day scrubbing the grout on our utility room floor, and straightening the shelves that serve as our pantry for our little crowded kitchen. At the end of the day, to me, it was beautiful. I felt productive. I had used my energy to make something in this world BETTER.

If left to it’s own devices, the world would deteriorate. It’s the in natural order of the universe for things to roll down hill, to get worse rather than better. We, as humans, have the ability to put energy into things to make them better. They can be big things, or small things, it doesn’t matter. What matters is if we each, in our own efforts, make our own little corners of this world a more beautiful place, then maybe we’re offering (gifting?) someone else with a little “slice of heaven”, a little respite, a little rest from the weary world and the rat race that I sometimes feel like we’re all stuck in.

My Instagram friend Aedriel wrote an interesting article on her blog last week, about an article out of Relevant magazine. The article was titled, “Stop Instagramming Your Perfect Life”, and challenged the reader to stop and find connection, and live passionately with gratitude and grace. I completely agree, but I also hold fast to the belief that if, as graphic designers and event planners and creatives and entrepreneurs, we stop doing our jobs–our jobs to make our own little corner of the world a more beautiful place–we would be contributing to the natural downward spiral of this world. In short, we’d be lazy. We’d be falling short in not using the natural gifts that God has given us.

I’ll be honest. I work pretty diligently to make my Instagram feed as beautiful as possible. Not because I’m trying to show off or make people think my life is beautiful, but because I want to remember these moments that ARE beautiful. I’m not going to say that my Instagram feed IS beautiful to the rest of the world, but to me it is, and that’s all that matters. It’s a collection of my days, a chronicle of what I’m learning, a tiny scrapbook of my kids growing up, and I want that collection to be the best it possibly can be. I’ve worked hard to research apps that produce the kind of pictures that I like, and I’ve consulted with photographer friends who have given me tips on photo composition. I analyze professional photographers’ Instagram feeds to see if I can learn anything that might challenge me to make my own feed, my own photos, my own art, and my own work better. And I do it because I believe that beauty makes this world a better place.

Life isn’t perfect, but moments are. I challenge you to look around your world and start creating and capturing your own beautiful moments, and collecting them somewhere, anywhere, that you can reflect on and use to inspire you later. If life is made up of moments, then putting the effort into making the most of those moments, and making them beautiful, will add up to…well, it will add up to a well-designed life.

Happy Instagramming, friends.

xoxo,
Whitney

You can read more about the author, Whitney English-Kolb HERE or over on her blog where this was originally posted! 

There are a few things parents my age cannot seek advice from our own parents about. At least they cannot speak from experience. Technology has changed so drastically in just the last 10 years that it can be hard for parents to keep up. And the pace of change continues to progress so rapidly my head spins. Just when I get the hang of one new gadget, software or social media site, a new latest and greatest comes out that has to be learned.

Unfortunately, as a parent, I have to keep up with what is going on with new game apps and what they do. Not because I want to use them, but because I absolutely know my children are going to be wanting to use them. I have to stay in-the-know at all times. Don’t you ever just long for the days when books were only on paper, games were only on boards and the Dewey decimal system was the hardest thing to learn to use? Sigh.

Study after study continues to come out spelling out the dangers and long-term effects video game playing is having on our children and their development, eye sight and brain function. Not to mention their over-all health and obesity challenges. Now we fight with our children not only about using soap in the shower and cleaning their rooms, but how often and how long they can play their video games on Xbox or Wii or a handheld contraption. It makes me exhausted just thinking about it.

With all that being said, there can be positives to the video games. As you know, three of my four are boys. And the two youngest boys argue and fight on an hourly basis. And every minute in between. It is so frustrating. But video games can be a source to bridge that gap between them sometimes. And I welcome that whole-heartedly. My hearts desire is for them to have a close bond and friendship that will last throughout their lives. I want all four of my children to be each other’s best friend. To be each other’s safe place.

During spring break on our stay-cation, we spent some down time at home just hanging out with each other and relaxing. Unfortunately, the weather kept us inside more than we wanted. But several times, the boys found their common interest and spent some quality time together. The three boys all grabbed their “phones” (Seth and Cooper’s are not really phones, only gaming devices, but we call  them phones because they think it sounds cool) and sat in Dad’s chair. They all have a game called Minecraft where they can play together at the same time. This is a game where you build a house, garden, cave etc., and you mine for gold and other resources. They strategize together and discuss what they can build and how. They sat in that chair together for at least an hour of harmonious play time.

The next day they gathered in Justin’s room to play again. I could hear them talking about their “resources” and how they can acquire more. It was fun to eavesdrop on their conversation and debates about all the ideas for their virtual world. They even continued to exchange ideas at the dinner table that night, long after the games were put away.  I love seeing them just hanging out together. And oddly, technology is making that happen. It is giving them the common interest despite their age differences they need to spend time together by their own choosing.

The other benefit Dad and I have found with all this technology is that they want it. And we are not paying for it. Therefore, to get it, they must buy it themselves. They have learned to save and earn to pay for what they want. They have saved birthday and Christmas money from grandparents and asked for extra jobs around the house to earn money. At the time of their birthdays, I give them the option of having a party or taking half the money I would have spent on the party as their gift. Cooper’s birthday was last month and he chose the money. Between birthday money and Christmas money, he had enough to purchase his phone.

I know the cons to all this technology are real. We have to continue to learn how to handle it appropriately, monitor what they have access to, and limit the time spent playing with it. It is the world we live in today, and we have to learn as parents how to best find the appropriate balance.

The challenge is finding the creative ways to make more positives than negatives.

How do you handle the issue of technology with your children?

You can read more about the author, Kimberly Wright, HERE or over on her blog, where this was originally posted!

When a girl has access to feminine hygiene she can change her world:

*She is more likely to stay in school

*She has more confidence

*She has more health knowledge

*She will speak up for herself and others

*Her future income will be greater and so will her country's GNP

*She will contribute to her community

*Her children and peers are more likely to do so as well.

For my Oregon Young Mother service project I joined with the team at Days for Girls (DFG) to create feminine hygiene kits.  It's a simple step that makes a big difference.  I presented this idea to my friends Melanie and Bekah.  (They both have amazing sewing talents and did much of the difficult work.)  We organized several different service events with the teenagers from our church, their mothers and wonderful leaders.

We created about 100 sanitary napkins, 30 carry bags, and 10 complete kits.  The items were shipped to our local DFG chapter where they will be distributed to one of 22 different nations in third world countries.  Volunteers deliver these supplies to women in needy communities and train others to teach about health, hygiene and how to make their own supplies.

We took the young women shopping for supplies and fabrics, got donations, had a cutting night and then culminated in a large sewing service event.  Our final night had 7 sewing machines, 10 adults and 15 young women working through different stations of assembly and construction.

The most rewarding part of the project for me was watching the young women grasp the significance of the service they were giving.  The thought of struggling through each period without the help of sanitary supplies opened their eyes to a harsher world and they left with new-found appreciation of some things we usually take for granted.  They also realized that they were changing the world - one girl at a time.

Days for Girls was picked up as a Nike Girl Effect Project this year!

You can read about the author, Amanda Larimer over HERE! 

We dropped Justin at his friends and I then asked my littles what they wanted to do for an hour. Eating dinner was not an option because steaks were marinated and ready for the charcoal when we got home. The quick response was to get an ice cream and play on the indoor playground at McDonald’s. Off we went.

Two strawberry shakes and I sat at a table as they ran back and forth from shake to slide. I knew it might ruin their dinner, but sometimes rules were meant to be broken. During one huge slurp, they stood looking at each other and moaned over their delicious ice cream. Then Anabelle looked at me with a small drop of pink shake clinging to her bottom lip. “This is happy,” and she sighed with contentment.

Aaahhhh. This is happy. I grinned at her and she ran off. This is happy. I know those moments. I treasure them.

Moments like the time my husband and I sat on a park bench during my lunch break from work. It was windy and sunny. We were newlyweds, and I leaned my back into his chest and enjoyed his arms wrapped around me. We didn’t talk, just enjoyed the time. That is happy.

Memories such as this when we first moved to Kansas and the kids were making it their home. Fun memories like this. This is happy.  The moment when I drop my kids off at school and drive from the parking lot sipping coffee from my favorite glass mug in the calm silence. That is happy.

The moment my kids come crashing through the door after school dropping backpacks and talking 100 mph about their days’ adventures. That is happy.

The moment I sit in my cushy chair in front of a roaring fire to watch a DVR recording with my husband, and the kids are tucked soundly in bed. That is happy.

The moment I walk up my driveway from a jog where I pushed myself to keep going when I wanted to stop. Even with shaky muscles and labored breath, my mind is rejuvenated. That is happy.

The moment when the words on the page of the Bible seem to become 3D and leap at me because God is speaking directly to my heart. That is happy.

The moment sitting on my back patio staring at the trees rustling in the distance, gazing over the countryside with the sun just starting to rise on a nice fall day. That is happy.

The moment I walk into my bathroom to find a yellow sticky note with two girl stick figures holding hands that reads, “I love mom” in Anabelle’s 6 year old penmanship. That is happy.

The moment I jump up from my seat on the bleachers to yell for one of my boys making a touchdown or scoring a basket. That is happy.

The moment I stand in our backyard with my husband’s arms wrapped around me from behind as we stare at the back of our house making plans for our remodel, and our future. That is happy.

The moment sitting in a McDonald’s playland as I listen to my 6 year old daughter savor her ice cream and declare, “This is happy” and knowing it is only the beginning of her happy’s.

Yes, this is happy.

What is your happy?

You can read more about the author, Kimberly Wright, HERE or over on her blog, where this was originally posted!  

As I slid down into the lukewarm water, a plastic dinosaur floated by me.  My bath water is always lukewarm because I can't manage to get in the tub when I want to.  Someone needs a diaper changed, or someone needs a drink and a snack, or someone needs help getting their head unstuck from the arm hole of a shirt.  Sound familiar?

I watched as the dinosaur "bobbed and weaved" around the Barbie that was floating at my feet.  I couldn't help but notice the alphabet foam letters stuck to the wall, forming a "bath toy" perimeter around me.  Suddenly, Cam threw open the door and ran into the bathroom.  He launched his toy truck into MY tub, laughed, and then promptly left.

In that moment, I thought, "It is apparent I am a parent."

Do you ever have moments like that?  When the reality of your situation hits you like a baby boy's truck flying through the air, and you realize with uncanny certainty that you have become the mother you always thought (or never thought) you'd be?!  Does it become blatantly apparent to you that...well, you're a parent?  Do you think to yourself, "Wow.  I am such a mom!?"

Like when you talk extensively with a friend and "fellow mommy" about stretch marks, vacuum cleaners, and curing diaper rash; or when you go to the grocery store with bedhead because you're out of milk and your kids cannot live without it, even for a minute...you feel like such a mom.  When your husband comes home from work and politely asks, "Didn't you wear that yesterday?", or when you insist that pancakes are a legitimate dinner item...you feel like such a mom.  Your four-year-old weeps and wails because she can't wear panties with "Thursday" embroidered on them when it's a Tuesday, so you promise to wash "Tuesday" while she's at preschool if she'll "please, just wear Thursday" for now and then change later...you feel like a mom then, too!

You feel like a mom when you take a bath with a dinosaur.

And that's okay!  The graham cracker in your hair, the spit-up on your shoulder, the house smelling like poopy diapers, the sippy cups, the missing toothbrushes because the baby is a "klepto," the preschool crafts, the messy kitchen, the stinky fridge, and the dinosaur in the bath tub--it is all okay.  It's the "evidence" that you are a mom--and when you get right down to the nitty-gritty core of it, being a mom is pretty awesome-saurus!

Don't you extinct?...err, I mean, don't you think?!

You can read more about the author, Aleisha McDaniel, right HERE! 

I have read on all the social media sites about people choosing a word to represent the year. Instead of resolutions, they choose the one word that will motivate them to where they desire to be personally, professionally or spiritually. Or all of the above. I have seen words such as: Finish. Begin. Change. Simplify. Hope.

I kind of like the idea. It has had me thinking about it. A lot. I keep wondering what word would I choose? I really like the word FINISH. I have many writing projects - namely two books and several articles - I would love to cross off my to do list. FINISH is definitely a good option.

So is POSITIVE. I have been thinking quite a bit about the amount of time and energy I waste worrying. Fretting about the “what if’s” in life. I would love to spend more of my energy believing POSITIVE. About myself, too. I can reach my goals. I can be a wife and mother of excellence. I can figure out this whole writing thing. I actually, positively, can lose that last 15 pounds I have been  holding onto like a it was a red Coach bag. Or a dark chocolate brownie. Or a brownie in the red bag.

FEARLESS would be another good word for me. Really, really, really good choice. One of my favorite verses is 1 Timothy 1:7 which states, “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” It is one of my favorites because I so desperately need it. FEARLESS would help POSITIVE be possible. It would wipe out those “what if’s” and uncertainties and insecurities. I wonder how much I could accomplish for God’s glory if I wasn’t stuck in one place locked in fear. I wouldcall it my comfort zone, but when there is fear, it is not comfortable.

Another word that could change 2013 for the better is FOCUS. Not being distracted on the craziness going on around me in the world, but FOCUSed on Christ, my Savior. The Author and Perfector of my faith. The One who knows what is going to happen, and has it all under His control. No matter what goes on with our government, our world, my own little world, He still sits on the throne. He still reigns. FOCUS on that would make all those other words possible. Yes, FOCUS is definitely a good option.

Or maybe, just maybe, FAMILY. Because even as I am running ragged to ball practices and swim practices and youth services and school functions and play dates, I know when I look back on my life I will not regret having done any of it. I know the time spent on my family is not time spent, but time invested. I know when I am old, nothing else will mean as much to me as what I invested in my children. When my husband and I lock our arthritic fingers at our 50 year anniversary celebration, I will not regret any time or attention I gave to him and our marriage. Bottom line, there is never anything more important than FAMILY.

I don’t know. I have not decided. I think it defeats the purpose to choose all of them. It would kind of negate FOCUS, after all. It’s an interesting idea, and I am going to ponder on it a little longer. Although, I am a bit distracted by the brownie and red purse thing.

What is your word?

Read about Kimberly HERE or on her blog, Believing Out Loud!

Jobs have been lost, finances have been drained, marriages have been challenged. Sweet, precious, beautiful, wonderful souls have left this world all too soon. The tears too real, shoulders have shaken, hard, as they’ve been shed. Trust has been shattered, friendships lost, and road blocks have seemingly piled themselves as massive obstacles in mountainous form.

If you’re reflecting on 2012 as one of the worst years ever, then I’m talking to you. (If 2012 was a banner year for you, awesome! That rocks! Go you! But I’m not talking to you in this post, and the rest of it might not make much sense. That’s ok. Love you anyway.) From this point on, in this blog post, imagine that we’re sitting in a cozy room, with warm mugs in our hands, and you’ve just told me why 2012 was awful. Painful. Heart-wrenching.

I’m not going to pretend to have been in your shoes. As tough as 2012 has been for me, the tears I have shed cannot be compared to the tears you have shed. To compare our pains would insult you. It would trivialize your experiences, and your trials, and I don’t want to do that. What I can do, not even having heard your story, is trust you: if you’re telling me it was awful, I’m so, so, so, sorry. If you need me to cry with you, I can. I am.

As we sit in that cozy room, Indian style on sofas, and sip our hot drinks, I want to tell you a couple of things.

As God’s children, He has placed us in a garden of undeserved privilege. That’s called grace. He has covered us with His love, in order to prevent the worst possible thing ever–eternal separation from him. That’s called mercy. So if we’re standing in grace, and shielded by mercy, with the faith and confidence that we’ll at least never have to be eternally separated from Him, then these trials and problems and struggles are temporary, even if they feel like they’re not.

You’ve got to find gratitude. Even though I’m not in your shoes, I can tell you that I know struggle and pain, albeit my version. And the way I look at my struggles is that I know they’re not the worst things ever, even though at times they seem personally unbearable. The worst pain ever was a father, who loved people so much, that he let the people take his baby boy and crucify him. As a parent, can you imagine? I cannot. That’s huge love. That’s the worst year ever. If you’re trying to find gratitude in the midst of pain, start there: at least be grateful that you don’t have to go through sacrificial relinquishment of your child, or brutal crucifiction.

Stop searching for happiness. Pain and struggle sometimes leave us aimless. We don’t know how to get away from it. So, we walk along, sometimes blindly, praying that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, which there WILL be–but fair warning, the light at the end of the tunnel is not happiness. The light at the end of the tunnel is relief, breathing space, restful nights. And the truth about life is that there are actually lots of tunnels and lots of lights. We’re going to keep going through them, and we have to recognize the light moments and live in them fully, because there will be another tunnel soon enough. That’s life. Happiness is in the journey, the gratitude in difficult things along the way, not the destination.

Have faith. Take heart. Choose courage. It WILL get better. Actually, I’m willing to bet you cold hard cash that it’ll get AWESOME. If you let it, the struggle can become one of the most beautiful parts of the story. Life has a funny way of making awesome, though, without giving you your way. God always knows what’s best for us. When we have the courage to have the faith that He’ll work it all out for good, in His time, the story can become magnificent. On days when it’s tough, just CHOOSE faith and courage.

Let it go. As humans, for whatever odd reason, we tend to revel in the pain. We lament the woes of our circumstances to whomever will listen. We hold grudges. We choose to remember and relive. Sometimes, we are our own worst enemy, rehashing situations that cannot be undone. My mother would tell me to quit beating a dead horse. Was it a problem? Yes. Did it stink? Sure. Is there grief? Yes, and a grieving process is allowed and encouraged, but you’ve still got to learn to let it go. If you hang onto it, it becomes bitterness. You’ve got to forgive: the person, the disease, the circumstances, the hand you’ve been dealt. Face the reality, and when the anger or hatred or negativity start to creep into your mind again, whisk the thoughts away with a simple choice: forgiveness. Say to yourself, “I’m choosing to forgive.”

Don’t be afraid to hope for better. We have a saying around our house: hope is not a good business strategy. However, the path leading away from pain and struggle is paved with hope. Most of us don’t consider the lack of hope an option; we have to have it to simply handle things. When faced with adversity, most of us realize that curling up in a ball in the corner and giving up just isn’t possible, even if we wanted it to be. In the thick of struggle, though, sometimes we find ourselves wondering if we’re wasting energy on hope. Hope isn’t a bad thing, just make sure you always pair it with action, even if that action is just praying and waiting. Simply standing around hoping things will get better isn’t going to make them so. As my mom would say, it might be time to hop to it. Pair hoping with hopping and you’ll find progress.

Romans 5:3-4 says, “We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance, and perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint.” (A compilation of versions). This brings me to my next point:

Hope does not disappoint. In fact, it seems that hope actually produces more faith, more confidence, more courage, more wisdom, more freedom. Faith produces more love. We have been watching a lot of VeggieTales around my house lately, and there is one little song where an asparagus-nun sings: I can love because God loved me.

I’m working on that one, friends. In the pain of struggle, it is hard to open your heart to loving unconditionally. As a human, I want to place conditions, expectations, on my love. I want to give without expecting anything in return, but I’m afraid of being burned. I want to love without fearing pain. That’s probably not realistic. But I can’t live without loving, so I choose to love. I have faith that all things will work for good. I pair hope with action to create progress. And I move forward. I will survive. You will, too.

You can read more about Whitney English-Kolb over here!

Last week was surprisingly tough, and momentous. We moved baby Bryson into his own crib. And even though it was definitely a good thing where sleep is concerned (and getting more of it), actually moving him out of our room, as well as immediate crying reach, suddenly seemed so unfeeling.

Added to that was our no-room-at-the-inn problem. Bursting at the seams, Bry was being moved to…our home office. And being the said caboose, I so wanted to make this a lovely place for him. But reality and timing required that instead of a coordinating nursery with cute wall hangings and throw rugs, he would share a small manly space with my hubby’s papers, computer, and work paraphernalia. I worried about the lack of warm fuzzy toys and pictures surrounding him. And that his possible waking might bother my husband’s early work hours on the computer.

Where was my baby Pottery Barn moment when I needed it?

Instead of whining and wishing, we moved forward (okay, still wishing a bit). My hubby found a sweet white old fashioned crib and light blue bedding, including a hand stitched quilt of numbered fluffy sheep. We assembled the crib ensemble in the evening, all of the kids coming and going, oohing and ahhing, while we prepared his new corner. Lastly, we added a sound device that played ocean waves for him as white noise.

As we stepped back something amazing had truly happened: the messy office we tended to avoid had, with our little one’s white crib and soft lit lamp, now been transformed into a tender, sweet space. I can’t explain it. Suddenly, we all wanted to be in there, together (did I mention we have eight of us at home?)

Bundling him up, we sang and kissed him while in the office, helping him get used to his new place. We cozied him with a few safe toys and thin blanket then let him be. To his credit, after only a few cries, he went down like a champ. I walked back into our bedroom and, this is going to sound crazy and I’m tearing up as I type it, something had changed. His bassinet was gone and his presence wasn’t there like it had been.

I had to remind myself of two things: one, that this is how it’s supposed to be, transitions and moving him forward in ways that will make him happier and more confident. And two, this is one big transition in a long, long line of them so cheer up, and buy Kleenex.

Wonderfully, the next morning my husband brought Bry to me with tears still in his eyes. He shared that upon the baby’s waking, he had just held him for about half an hour in the office chair, rocking and holding and feeling that connection with him.

So it seems there is a sweet to bittersweet moments after all.

You can read about author Connie Sokol, right HERE!

Okay, not literally slapped me in the face.  Let me explain.

At the conclusion of the checkup, and after going through the list of immunizations Cam was about to receive, Dr. Super Cool said to me (and I MUST call her that because her skirts are very bohemian, her jewelry is always funky, she sports leopard print frames, and she's reeeeaallly smart):  "You'll want to schedule Camren's two-year old checkup before you leave today.  After that, I'll only need to see him once a year."

What?

I just sat there.

"Wow," I said, "wow."  (Articulate, right?  I mean, that's all I could say.)

Dr. Super Cool smiled and pushed those awesome frames up to the bridge of her nose.  She said, "I know.  Can you believe it?  He's quickly growing up.  I no longer need to see him for well-child checkups every three months.  Your Camren isn't a baby anymore."

See?  See?  Slap in the face!

I have to admit I was a little glum for the remainder of the day.  As I looked at my lovable, chunky boy, I thought, "What happened to my baby?!  What  happened to the baby boy I would rock and rock and rock to sleep at night?  Was he ever an infant?  So small?  So fresh from heaven?"

Time does pass quickly, and babies do grow up fast.

In her book, The Happiness Project, Gretchen Rubin (mother of two) writes:  "Today I'm pushing Eleanor in a stroller; one day she'll be pushing me in a wheelchair...Each day, each phase of life seems long, but the years pass so quickly; I want to appreciate the present time, the seasons, this time of life...The days are long, but the years are short."

We do have long days as mothers; days filled with laundry, cooking, vacuuming, grocery shopping, driving children to school, mopping, sweeping, kissing boo-boos, picking up toys, arranging play dates, drying tears, chasing toddlers.  It can be monotonous.  It can be hard.  It can be exhausting.

And then, in a blink of an eye, our babies are grown-ups.

I want to make more of an effort to enjoy every ordinary day; every small and seemingly insignificant moment.  One day I won't have toys to pick up off of the stairs.  I won't have tiny socks to tuck into dresser drawers.  I won't have sticky hands to hold.

The years are short, indeed.

You can read about the author, Aleisha McDaniel, right HERE!

I’m writing this because the other day I caught myself checking my newsfeed on Facebook when I was trying to put my toddler to bed, the light of my IPhone waking him up from his almost sleep. This is crazy I thought to myself. Here I was, lying in bed with the most precious gift God has bestowed upon me, an 18 month brown eyed curly haired little angel, and I was more concerned about what my old classmates were doing this weekend.

So what has the world come to? A recent study found that more new mothers are using smart phones than pacifiers or toys to soothe their crying babies. I’ve seen little hands holding a smartphone sticking out of carriers in the shopping cart at Target, working a smart phone better than I will ever be able to. Other mothers have asked me how I managed to make a four-hour car ride to visit family without a DVD player in the backseat (if they saw my car they would understand- it was probably built before there were DVD players!)

Is all this technology, this constant connectedness, affecting our children? And what about the way our family units are functioning? Is it normal to have four people sitting at the dinner table, all together, but not really together, as their all simultaneously typing, texting, and updating away on their devices?

Right now I am typing this on a computer that currently has no Internet connection- and I have to say it feels good. I haven’t checked the news online, read and celebrity gossip, or pinned anything to Pinterest once while writing this (believe it not, that is considered a major accomplishment). You see, we recently moved, and for about two weeks we haven’t had any Internet connection, and I have to say it feels great. I feel like I am spending more time with my son. I haven’t once caught myself telling him just one more minute because mommy wants to check something. What did surprise about not having any kind of Internet connection for two weeks (not even on my IPhone) is that it has actually affected my 18-month-old son. About two days after we moved, my son kept pointing to the computer asking for “Melmo”, his adorable way of asking to watch Elmo on Sesame Street. Every once in a while I’d let him sit on the computer chair and play a video of Sesame Street for him on YouTube. It would give me a few extra minutes to allow me to prep things for dinner. The second night while we were here, you would have thought it was his father, or mother, or any other loved relative that he was longing to see. “Melmo, Melmo, MELMO!” he demanded, forcing me to explain to him that Melmo couldn’t be here right now, because we don’t have an internet connection. Was my son, at 18 months old, already addicted to the Internet?

These two events really got me thinking of the childhood of today and of yesterday. I recently saw one of those popular memes you see all over the Internet that said “When I was a child I didn’t have an IPhone, a laptop, a PlayStation, Facebook, or Twitter. I only had one toy, and it was called outside”.

I’m going to use these two events as a learning experience. How would I have felt if my mother and father were constantly glued to their electronic devices? Or picked me up from a friends house or babysitters while talking on the phone, barely even noticing I’m there. I’m going to change the way I do things, whereas I used to feel the need to distract my toddler for a moment with “Melmo”, I am instead going to use it as the opportunity to let him help mommy cook. Instead of checking my Facebook update, I’m going to use it as another opportunity to tell him I love you, and in lei of reading my Twitter feed, perhaps I should use it as a chance to tell God Thank you for the wonderful little angel he has gifted me with. There will a change to tweet about it later…

Eventually, my parents took notice of my eye problems and promptly took me to visit the optometrist, where I found out I was I need of glasses. Needless to say I quickly began devouring as many carrots as humanly possible, as I had heard that they improve vision. Sadly, the copious amounts of vitamin A and beta-carotene weren’t enough to save my eyes. In third grade, I was forced to wear eyeglasses. Being a child with glasses was not easy. They fell off my head when I wrecked my bike. They got foggy in the shower, and I couldn’t see without them when I went swimming. Eventually in my teenage years, I was allowed to wear contacts, which presented a whole new set of problems. I had to remember to take them out and clean them daily. I cant tell you how many I lost in the neighbors pool one summer. They probably had thousands of dollars worth of contacts floating at the bottom of their pool. I should have just gotten a net and scooped ‘em out to save my parents some money. My eyes were often itchy and dry because of my allergies. I always had to put eye drops in. If you have eye problems like me, I know you can relate to everything I’m saying right now.

Then, one day out of the blue, a miraculous event happened, and all of my eye woes were fixed: my son began to crawl, and suddenly I had the 20/20 vision of a red tailed hawk. I could now spot a stray thumbtack 20 feet away in the hallway. I could spot a stray rusty nail that had somehow found its way into my yard. I can spot a bumblebee headed for my baby from three miles away. Everyone piece of lint, dirt, button, pen top, or anything else small enough for my crawling rug rat to get into his mouth was now suddenly bigger and brighter than ever. If I had known that I could solve my eye problems by giving birth, I would have done so years ago.

The first few days, and sometimes weeks, of preschool can be a very scary time for some children (and moms and dads too). Starting school is something that your family has probably been thinking about all summer. Now, it’s time for your child to walk in to a new school with new grown-ups and a new classroom with all these new faces looking at them. They may look up at you and notice that maybe Mom and Dad look teary- eyed that their “baby” is growing up so fast…. no wonder some children suddenly cling to parents and cry.

*If you seem anxious and unsure about leaving your child at school they will pick up on this and start wondering if there is something to worry about. Try to act confident yourself.

* When talking with others in front of your child be positive and upbeat. Don’t let your child hear you say things like “I don’t know what I will do without them all day” or “I hope they will find a friend” or “I hope other children don’t pick on them”. When they hear you say these things they become worried also.

*Putting your child on the bus is the easiest way to send them to school. If you bring them to school it’s harder to get away from them and “sneaking out” when your child is busy and not looking, can make kids panic later, possibly making separation more difficult the next time.

* Separation problems sometimes will show up later on, just when you think you’re getting off easy. You may also find that your child is grumpy and hard to get along with, this is common because they are not used to long days and are tired. Preschool is hard work. This will get better as they get into a routine. It is also common for children to have problems when there is a major change at home. Notify your child’s teacher if there is anything happening that may be important to know.

*You may also give your child a picture that they can keep in their book-bag. When a child is missing their family it really helps for them to have the photo to look at and share with others.

*Please remember that some teachers are parents too and they really do understand how hard this can be. They know that you are entrusting them with a very precious gift, and feel honored to be your child’s first teacher. If your child is having an especially difficult time, your child’s teacher will let you know!

It’s going to be a great year! You are your child’s best teacher and I thank you for all you do.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Weaver

This whole parenting thing has been a humbling experience. Before I actually had a child, I thought I was an expert on all things related to raising a child. Sure, I didn’t have any, but I knew exactly what I was and was not going to do. I would not do that, and my child would definitely do that. Reality is really a smack in the face. Lately I’ve noticed a look on my family members faces as I do something that I always said I would never do. It’s the “I told you so” look. They are usually nice enough to not actually say it.

I used to be appalled at children crying in the grocery store. I thought they must have been spoiled children. And look at their mom! Not doing a thing about it! Like I said, reality is a smack in the face. Now it is me standing in the check out lane, with my son screaming bloody murder because I wont let him rip all of the candy off of the shelves. And guess what? Sometimes I just have to ignore it, because I have to bag up my groceries, pay, and put them back in the cart. So I have become one of them, the parent of a wild, wailing child who continues to check out while her son is crying.

Another humbling experience comes in the form of dining. I was sure Mario would be fed a complete organic diet. I was not going to poison my child with chemicals, sodium, high fructose corn syrup and fat. Yet here I find myself again, going against what I had said in the past. I will admit it: Mario munches on french fries from time to time. Sometimes we are on the go, and I find myself stopping for some. Mario looks at me with those big brown eyes and I think to myself: just one wont hurt. It’s just another incident where family members look at me and shake their head with their “I told you so” look.

Another unrealistic expectation that I had of my future child: that he would never be dirty, have unkempt hair, and his clothes would always match. All I can say is I am lucky that no one saw us at the park yesterday, where my son was sporting a stripped shirt and plaid shorts (it was laundry day). I couldn’t find his brush that morning, and he had just finished playing in a puddle. If I had walked by my future self, I don’t know what I would have said!

There are many other things I have judged parents for that I now wish I could take back, including: criticizing parents for having their kid up late, allowing a child to drink tea, and parents in their sweat pants at the grocery store. For some reason I had images of myself in cute dresses and heels pushing a stroller around. Yep, that rarely happens. I am now guilty of doing all the things I said I would never do,

Like I said reality was a smack in the face, and all of my family is telling me “I told you so.” Becoming a parent is one of the most humbling experiences in life. I have learned how hard and difficult it is to raise a little one. Most importantly I learned a lesson in not passing parenting judgment. Before I even think about judging another person again, I look back to my pre-baby days and then take a look in the mirror. You never know what your future self might do!

During my senior year of college I had to complete a major project for graduation. As a new mother I had become completely obsessed with the health benefits of breastfeeding. I decided to create a short twenty-minute documentary about breastfeeding in which I would discuss all benefits of nursing. I thought it sounded like a great idea. My advisor for the project liked the idea, but pointed out how one-sided I was. “It’s a great idea” he said, “but you have to show both sides of the story. If you don’t, it’s just propaganda. “

Well, I hadn’t thought of that. My plan had changed from interviewing only women who had breastfed, to women who didn’t, or maybe weren’t able to breastfeed their children.

One of the women I interviewed told me how she had felt judged for not nursing her son. It turns out she wanted to nurse him, but just wasn’t able to. Other mothers had made her feel guilty for not nursing her son. I felt an instant pang of guilt, as I realized I was guilty of this charge. A year after my son was born my sister confessed to me how bad I had made her feel for not nursing her daughter. How could I have done such a thing?

It was then that I realized the ‘mom club’ is pretty divided. There are hundreds of decisions to make when we become mothers for the first time, many of which we have never even thought about before. Breast or bottle? Crib or Co-sleep? Vaccinate or don’t vaccinate? Circumcise or intact? Organic food, crying it out, and attachment style parenting were all tough decisions we have to think about. These issues often pit mother against mother.

Would it be nice if we all just remembering that we are just trying our best, no matter what decisions we choose to make. All of us mothers should try to be more united and make it a point to remember we are all just mothers trying to do our best to raise happy, successful children…just another humbling lesson I have learned in this job called being a mommy.

Gina Messina-Dysert is a feminist theologian, ethicist, and activist and the Director of the Women’s Studies in Religion Oral History Program at Claremont Graduate University, Visiting Assistant Professor of Theological Ethics at Loyola Marymount University, and Co-founder and Co-director of Feminism and Religion. Gina has authored multiple articles, the forthcoming book Rape Culture and Spiritual Violence, and is a contributor to the Rock and Theology project sponsored by the Liturgical Press.

Gina has been a special contributor to panels on domestic violence sponsored by American Mothers, Inc. at the United Nations and the 2012 Mom to Mom Conference in Washington D.C.  Gina can be followed on Twitter @FemTheologian and her website can be accessed at http://ginamessinadysert.com.

And often moms have a hard time of letting someone else in to help. You may have been let down by someone who was supposed to be there to help and support you with raising your kids. And once someone has let you down, you can blame yourself. It is very difficult to trust someone again.

For a while now, I have been a divorced mom. It is hard, though I usually won’t admit it to people. I don’t complain to strangers or friends. Fortunately, I can rely on my family, which I am so very blessed to have close to me. I also have a serious boyfriend. This is a weird concept to me to have a boyfriend at 38 years old. He is great with my kids. He is fun and engaging with them and they really enjoy spending time with him. I enjoy them spending time with him too, because it can give me a much needed break that I don’t get too often. Smile.

It is difficult however, to let him discipline them. That is usually my job and one I am good at! Because I am a strict mom and don’t let them get away with too much, I have great kids. They are well-behaved and polite. But they are still kids. When they are with us and doing something they know they shouldn’t, we both will start to reprimand them at the same time. I find I am usually a little quicker to be harsh.

He explains to them how their actions are wrong or inappropriate and I try to step back and let him. He does a great job of disciplining in a nice, calm manner. Sometimes, I think he is better at that part than I am. But my anxiety is whether this will change in the future? Will I ever relax enough to allow him to discipline them when things get really tough? The teenage years are coming at a frighteningly quick pace.

I pray about this for myself and for him. I pray he will continue to have patience with my kids and with me when I interrupt him. I pray I learn to let go of some of the anxiety I have about letting go. I hope this will become easier with time, but I don’t know for certain that it will. I like structure and order and I detest surprises. I know, I am a control freak, but a recovering control freak. As a divorced mom, I have had to be a control freak.

I have heard other single moms feeling this way as well, and I have witnessed them conquering this issue, so I know there is hope for me.

What have you experienced with this matter?  What or who has helped you?

Renee Dunifon is a Life Coach and Business Consultant at Rentschler Coaching & Consulting, LLC, where she is the Owner. You can visit her Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/#!/InspireEmpowerAchieve or follow her on Twitter at @RDunifon.  

This was originally posted over at  Believing Out Loud, a blog by the 2009 National Young Mother of the Year, Kimberly Wright.

Then it dawned on me that children learn different things at different times, and I shouldn’t sweat it that my son wasn’t up to par with the little girl at the mall. I know it is important for him to learn numbers and letters and we will continue working on those things. However, there are more important things for him to learn in life. These are the most important lessons that I hope he will learn in life:

1. Be grateful for what you have. I want Mario to be thankful for the life God has given him, for a family that loves him, and being alive and healthy.

2. The ability to love and be loved. I hope Mario will know how to love and show his love to others, to be kind, and be able to accept love from others in return.

3. To find joy in the little things. Life’s greatest pleasures do not come from having a fancy car, the biggest house, or brand new clothes. In Mario’s case, happiness doesn’t come from having the newest pair of Nike’s, the newest video game, or the coolest toy. I hope he will learn to appreciate a sunny day, spring flowers, swimming in the river, and playing in the dirt. It’s the little blessings from God that really matter.

4. Respect. Because you cannot be respected without respecting others.

5. To be honest. Honesty is one of the most important qualities to have in life, and I hope he will learn this from a young age.

6. The value of hard work. Nothing in life is free. You can have talent, but without hard work, you will get nowhere.

7. Be a good listener. It is impossible to develop meaningful relationships without learning the valuable skill of listening. Everybody can talk, but not everyone knows how to listen.

8. Patience. Not everything will happen when he wants it to. I work hard to be patient with my son so that he will learn to be patient as well.

9. Live in a way that you will have no regrets. I hope that Mario will live life the fullest and do his best so that he will never have to look back and regret a single moment of it.

1. Teaching my toddler the unimportance of clothing. Being raised by a single dad was hard. There was no one in the house that could relate to the importance of fashion. He believed that a person only needed five shirts, five pants, and a pair of shoes. He has now taken it a step further. If he changes Mario’s diaper, he no longer bothers putting his pants back on. If Mario spills something on his shirt, grandpa just takes it off of him. Usually within five minutes of grandpa visiting, there is a naked toddler in the house. He also allows him to play outside like this. What is Mario going to learn from this? Clothing is totally optional in life.

2. Sugar is an actual food group, and can be consumed at all times of the day. Grandpa doesn’t seem to be able to tell time. How do I know this? Because it doesn’t matter if it is 7am or 7pm, if there is sugar within sight, it is going in my child’s mouth. Grandpa finds some kind of joy in jacking up my child and then abandoning us. This is the cruelest form of payback.

3. How to bark at dogs. Grandpa loves to take Mario on walks. It seems that in my neighborhood, everyone owns a dog. Grandpa likes to carry Mario, point at the dogs, and then show him how to bark. Finally Mario has learned the crucial life skill of barking. Now whenever we see dogs, cats, horses, or any other animal with four legs, my toddler barks. It was cute the first fifty times. Now it is just embarrassing.

4. Hitting is fun! Grandpa likes to play box with Mario, and Mario just cant seem to get enough of it! He starts laughing and giggling uncontrollably. I have to admit, it is pretty adorable. What isn’t adorable is when he goes to daycare and decides to play Mohammad Ali on the other children. He has already been “written up” for it once. If he gets kicked out of daycare because of boxing the other children, I sure hope grandpa will help watch him…

5. Coffee Coffee Coffee! Have you ever seen a toddler on coffee? I wish I could say I haven’t. Grandpa thinks its cute to be careless with where he places his coffee cup.

Fellow babies, if you have the same problem, follow this plan and you will definitely get to stay at home for at least an extra 20 to 40 minutes. Babies, it is time we reclaimed our mornings!

Step 1. The first step actually starts the night before. Be sure to wake up as often as possible in the middle of the night. This way, mommy will not get any sleep and will accidently sleep in. She will now be in a sleep deprived fog, making it very difficult for her to get ready in the morning. This should get you some extra time in the morning to play with your toys.

Step 2. When it is time for mommy to change your morning diaper, don’t give in. This one is easy, because mommy usually hasn’t had any of that coffee drink yet. Make sure you squirm and wiggle around as much as you can. I mean, why does she insist on putting that thing on me, anyway? This should buy you at least five extra minutes.

Step 3. Mommy now thinks she has won the battle because you are changed and dressed, but think again mommy. When it is time to eat, refuse to even touch your food. Mommy hates it when you don’t eat! You could also smear some blueberries onto your shirt so that she has to change you again. Then, refuse to drink your milk. Maybe she will give you apple juice, but be sure to refuse that one also. After she realizes that maybe you’d like grape juice, wiggle your way out of your high chair so that she gives up feeding you breakfast altogether.

Step 4. Now that it is mommy’s turn to get dressed, you have some time to cruise the house. At this point I usually feel a little bad because mommy seems worried about being on time. To make your mommy feel better, you can make a painting for her. My favorite thing to do is to make a grape juice painting on the carpet, and some on the walls just for a little extra detail. Don’t worry babies, mommy will love it! She always screams with delight when I do this trick!

Step 5. Well since mommy still isn’t ready, I’ll leave her another present. Last night she was watching this movie about a Notebook and she used a lot of tissues, so maybe I’ll pull some out of the box for her. Do you think 250 is enough?

Step 6. Number two. Do I need to say more?

Step 7. If your mommy finally manages to get you into the car, start bucking around like you’re riding a wild bull. So much fun!

Ok babies, now you are armed with seven tips to reclaim your mornings, so get out there and get to work!

Also, if you have a favorite blog that you would like to share, or would like to become a guest blogger for AMI, email Sandy Sponaugle at sandy@platinumpr.com.

We’ve all been there. We made the decision to go out to eat, thinking, “oh, its only four o’clock, maybe no one will be in the restaurant yet”, or “lets go to the loud restaurant, that way little junior’s shrieking and knife throwing won’t bother anyone.” Yeah right, I wish.

So one day there I was, pretending to be a queen for an hour, sipping on my red wine, while the waiter brought our appetizers. Yes, I pretend that the restaurant is my kingdom, and I, the queen. I get to prop up my feet while my servants bring me my food. The bus boys clean up after me. More wine! I demand. The manager is my personal assistant. He gets me whatever I want. Free cheese dip? This is just one of the perks of being a queen for the day. Others look at me with envy. It feels good. Maybe they have never seen the queen at the local Mexican joint. Look at cute little junior, so adorable, they say.

However, being a queen is hard. Not everyone loves the queen. There are always a few dissenters in any kingdom. I am quickly snapped back into reality when my little prince decides to throw a pickle at my face, and then I realize that I am not in my magical kingdom land, but I am in the local Mexican restaurant, scarfing down a seven dollar burrito as fast as I can before junior has a breakdown.

Remember I mentioned the dissenters? They are the ones without kids. They just don’t understand. They look at us mothers, wondering, why is there is a child in a restaurant? A child of all things! He doesn’t belong here! Is she crazy?

Well, maybe I am crazy. I have heard people compare taking a child out to eat to torturing the fellow customers. That may be true, but as queen, I could do whatever I wanted, darn it. So what if he liked to chew his food and spit out on the floor for fun, he wasn’t bothering you, was he? And so what if when I wasn’t looking, he pulled a Houdini move and stole the knife off of the table, and chucked it at a passerby like an expert knife thrower. No one ever said it was an easy job being a mom…

I’d like to think of my child shrieks as…alternative music. It is an acquired taste. It is actually more like something I just block out and pretend like it isn’t happening. I just keep pretending that maybe all those people are looking at me because they have never seen royalty in public. Who am I kidding? I was wearing sweat pants and my old sorority t-shirt from college with my hair pulled up in a scrunchie circa 1997.

Then junior starts crying. I blame it on the cold tortillas. If he wasn’t served cold tortillas, maybe he wouldn’t be crying, I say. “Ma’am, I think this tortilla is cold”. The waiter responds, “Maybe its because it has been sitting there for twenty minutes while your little terror you call a child has been harassing all of the customers with his shrieking, escaping out of the high chair and practicing his sneak attack skills on the knees of the customers.”

I think it’s time this new queen finds a new kingdom…

DISCLAIMER: I do not actually treat restaurant staff like they are my servants. I once worked in a restaurant and know it is a very hard job. The more difficult the child is that day, the more I tip. It’s the least I can do.

A little bit about Gina...  

Gina Messina-Dysert is a feminist theologian, ethicist, and activist and the Director of the Women’s Studies in Religion Oral History Program at Claremont Graduate University, Visiting Assistant Professor of Theological Ethics at Loyola Marymount University, and Co-founder and Co-director of Feminism and Religion. Gina has authored multiple articles, the forthcoming book Rape Culture and Spiritual Violence, and is a contributor to the Rock and Theology project sponsored by the Liturgical Press.  

Gina has been a special contributor to panels on domestic violence sponsored by American Mothers, Inc. at the United Nations and the 2012 Mom to Mom Conference in Washington D.C.  Gina can be followed on Twitter @FemTheologian and her website can be accessed at http://ginamessinadysert.com.

Oh, the trials and tribulations of attempting to achieve that perfect harmony of sleepy time sounds. The quiet buzz of a fan, a warm breeze flowing through the trees, and mommy, tip toeing her way through the house, quiet as a mouse, for the fear of waking her sleeping toddler has stopped her in her tracks.

Sometimes I think back to all the advice I had been giving about becoming a mother. The one I wish I would have listened to? Don’t be too quiet, or baby will only be able to sleep when it is perfectly quiet. Then you’ll be stuck tip toeing around your own house for the next ten years.

So here I am (I had to tip toe from upstairs) typing these words as quietly as I can. When did this keyboard get so loud?

Does everything get louder when you’re a mom? What happened? I had never noticed just how loud everything in this world is! Gone were the days of listening to Pandora while banging a hammer in the wall for these new paintings that I just had to have up now. “WHAT?” I could scream to my husband. I couldn’t hear him through the music playing. Those were the days…No, life is different now. I hear things in a whole new way.

I cringe at the noise of the microwave door closing as I’m heating up my three hour old dinner, fear rippling through my body that the baby heard the microwave door close. Why is that thing so loud? I need to start looking for a quiet microwave. Add that to the shopping list.

So there I go with my dinner that I couldn’t eat because Mario got too tired to stay up for us to eat. Sometimes I like to watch a little TV when he goes to sleep. After all, this whole mommy thing is exhausting. Now, to the average person, turning on the TV is a passive task. You don’t think about it. You simply do. Then you plop down and get all cozy on that couch of yours.

Well for me, its different. When I first turn on the TV, I stand there with fear, clutching the remote, my fingers strategically placed on the volume button, ready to pounce on them at any second. Praying that the last time the TV was on the volume was not up so loud, that the neighbors could hear me watching last nights episode of Teen Mom. Here it comes, Here it comes! Yes! It wasn’t blaring loud! Mario didn’t wake up. Mom-1, Mario-0. Maybe he will sleep peacefully all night long…

Midnight snack?Think again. The only thing more frightening than gaining more weight on my hips, is waking up the baby by opening a big, noisy bag of chips, causing me to gain weight on my hips. Baby sensitive to chip bag noise= Best diet ever. Midnight snack time ended real fast.

Oh and one of the worst- when the FedEx delivery man pounds on your front door like you are some kind of 95 year old woman with hearing aids who is on the opposite end of the house. I hear you! When Mario was a newborn, I fixed that problem real quick with a nice little sign that read: Dear Friends, please knock softly, Baby is Sleeping.

Have I ever mentioned how much I loved my friends and family. But sometimes they just don't understand the importance of nap time. “Hey GIIRRRRLLL!” is what I hear sometimes when Jill comes over. I prefer a small whisper for a greeting, because if that baby wakes up…its all over.

Babies used to be so cute, with their cute little whimpers when they wanted another sip of milk, or some more snuggles. Yeah right. Now that I have one, baby cries have never been so loud. Nothing will stop you in your tracks like the screeching of a 15 month old who you just took the Glade air freshener away from him again, because he decided to take it out of the socket and suck on it like a lollipop. Cries were never so loud, until I became a mother.

Yes, it is behind the scenes that you learn all these crazy things that mothers do. They are only things that you can know when you yourself enter motherhood. So enjoy the sounds while you can. When your little bundle of joy arrives, suddenly the world becomes full of dangerous sounds, threatening to wake up your little one from his precious two hour nap, aka vacation time for mommy. Fire trucks, barking dogs, and loud car stereos, once unnoticeable background noises that service as pieces of the audio soundtrack to our life that we hear every day, now dangerous sounds to be avoided at all costs.

Extra Note: The baby woke up three times in the time it took me to type this…I need a quieter keyboard.

As I was traveling home from our recent Spring Break excursion to visit my parents in Arizona, I rented a short film titled “Happy.” As the title implies, this movie explores the science behind what makes a person happy. One theory this film endorses is that an individual’s state of happiness is 50% genetic, 40% controlled by the individual and 10% environmental. Interestingly, there is scientific data that indicates that once a person is able to provide for his or her family’s basic needs, happiness is not related to income. I thought about this formula within the context of my own life. I consider myself to be a generally happy and content person. However, I am challenged in this state of happiness when one of my children is unhappy. Maybe, for me, the formula does not apply and instead, the cliché that “you are only as happy as your least happy child” rings true.

Over the past month, my two oldest children participated in tryouts for spring sports. I will confess that the tryouts are rather innocuous, however, in the lives of my children they are supremely important. My son Ben loves lacrosse, plays goalie and is moderately successful at it. Just before tryouts for his High School team, we learned that Ben was accepted to a prestigious lacrosse camp. Admission to the camp is a real accomplishment and a real high for Ben (and for me). No sooner did this occur than Ben was cut from his school’s J.V. team. To say that Ben was devastated is an understatement. As a direct result, I was not happy either.

On the heels of this disappointment, my 8th grade daughter Sarah started tryouts for her Middle School tennis team. Sarah played on the team last year and I really did not give it much thought. That is, until she came home in the midst of the week sobbing and genuinely distraught regarding her chances to make the team. Instead of having words of wisdom for her, I too became worried and upset. I played out the worst case scenario in my head. While I realized that not making the team would be a good life lesson, I did really not want her to learn this lesson and experience such disappointment. I was not happy.

These two incidents occurred within a 10-day period, a very long 10 days! Was I unhappy during that time…perhaps. Did I suddenly morph into an unhappy person…no. While I may be as happy as my least happy child, I control my own well-being. Each day I try to live a life of gratitude and appreciate all that is good in my life. Having children and experiencing their ups and downs challenges my state of happiness, but does not change it. For now I remain happy, but with three children, I know that a new challenge to my state of being is just around the corner.

Each of us as parents knows the enforcer role all too well. If you are the parent who does the lion's share of disciplining you understand the unpopularity involved. If you are the kind of parent who hands off all the disciplining to your partner, well, shame on you. Without a doubt, responsible adults need to set boundaries and expectations for children. We must pay close attention to the development, guidance and maturation of our kids as it determines the ebb and flow of allowed behaviors and privileges. Those parameters need to be, dynamic, child specific in some cases, and always based on consistent inherent principles, like empathy, respect, honesty, diligence, etc.

One technique I use regularly, and enjoy because it reminds me that my children know more about life than I give them credit for, is involving them in the creation of a list of do’s and don’ts. When I allow them to work with me to choose their consequences for stepping outside of our agreed upon ledger of offenses, it is just as fascinating.

Spending time together and identifying the main objective/s we need to cultivate go a long way in facilitating productive and healthy discussions with my children. Including them in the process of developing our set of household mores helps me encourage critical thinking, provides opportunities to enlighten certain ideals, and builds awareness of accountability. When we expose our children to the productive process of determining their actions based on desired outcomes and consequences, we will have served them well beyond their childhood years. In adulthood, it will provide them with the mechanisms necessary to communicate their expectations of others and how to fulfill their own commitments. In the business world we refer to people as “stakeholders.” We speak of the ownership of our ideas and the consequences which can result from our actions. In successful individuals, both personally and professionally, understanding outcomes and accepting accountablity are traits learned early on in life. They will give our children a better ability to understand or consider the impact of their behavior on their personal surroundings, relationships, and the well being of others.

A key component in this development is to design consequences which do not humiliate, embarass or invoke feelings of guilt or shame. A good consequence involves positive actions which reinforce the ideal that was ignored. While it is sometimes necessary to take away a privilege, it is equally important to give our children a method of regaining said lost privilege. By handing children a means of undoing poor behavior we provide them chances to reinforce good behavior. We also remove from their minds any negative feelings which may cause them to turn inward and judge themselves. This allows them to understand the power of righting a wrong and will, in turn, build confidence in their ability to rectify unpleasant or even dangerous circumstances. After all, we all will make mistakes in life. What we hope is to be judged by how well we respond and deal with the issue at hand, not by the mistake or problem we either created or incited.

Sharing the following scenario hopefully will help sum up the idea of the process and the benefits you may reap. Your daughter has just been caught secretly texting past the agreed upon curfew. You can respond by taking away the phone and the privilege for a period of time and simply return it to her at the conclusion of the punishment. This may or may not prevent the same behavior in the future, but will likely not as there is no lesson learned here. Alternatively, you can remove the texting capability from the phone for an agreed upon amount of time. Once the period of time has passed, explain it is her responsibility to show she understands and has altered her behavior to have the trust back. For instance, you could offer that she may choose to place the phone in a public area of the house at the texting curfew time. (She needs to take the initiative to do this. If you must ask her to do this, it does not constitute responsibility.) By taking the lead in putting the phone out of her own reach, she is demonstrating her understanding and respect of the rules while also showing the importance of being trusted.

Everybody wins, now and in the future. When we come to a resolution of an issue together, by including our children, and subsequent positive behaviors become character traits, we have successfully disciplined.

Mother’s Day has always been a struggle for me. While most people were celebrating by going out to dinner or having family over, I would be at home, looking at pictures of my mother. We hadn’t known each other very well throughout my childhood. My parents divorced when I was younger and I had always lived with my father. She was a six-hour car ride away, so we saw her maybe once a year.

Naturally, I yearned to be closer with my mother. Before my senior year of high school, I decided to move in with my sister, who was only a short ride away from my mother. A few days after I had moved, we got the call we had all dreaded- my mother had passed away. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it still hit us very hard.

A day that was celebrated by most became the day I began to loathe the most. I started working in a restaurant my senior year of high school after my mom passed away. If you have ever worked in a restaurant, you know that Mother’s Day is the busiest day. Each year on Mother’s Day I worked as a waitress, waiting on mothers and daughters and sons and grandchildren. Why were they so happy? Did they have to hug their mom so much in front of me? Why are they rubbing it in my face?

A little over two years ago I had shocking news. I was expecting a baby! My husband and I were not even considering having a baby, so it was a big surprise!

It was then that I realized I didn’t know what it meant to be a mother. Most of us learn by example. Young girls learn how to me mothers from their own mothers. I knew what it meant to be a single dad who handled both jobs of mother and father, because that is what I have grown up with all my life. I quickly began to devour every parenting book I could get my hands on, searching for the do’s and don’ts of being a mother. I didn’t want to look like I didn’t know what I was doing!

On February 17th, 2011 I gave birth to Mario Roberto. Holding my little munchkin in my arms, it sunk in that I was a mother. It has been quite an experience ever since! It is true what they say- nothing can prepare you.

I’ve learned that I cant learn what it means to be a mother by reading a book, by subscribing to daily parenting emails, or writing down everything Aunt Martha tells me to do.

Being a mother is different for every woman. We’ve all had different experiences, and that creates a different meaning for us all. We all do the job differently. I had to define motherhood for myself.

This Mothers Day was one of the proudest days of my life. I received my first Mother’s Day gift from Mario and his teachers at day care. They had decorated a paper plate with lace and glitter. Mario’s little handprint was in the middle, with a poem about always remembering this day when he had a little hand print, because one day he will grow up to be big, and his little handprint will now be big.

I cried as I opened it. I realized that I am now a mother, something that was previously a foreign idea to me. I didn’t understand what they did and how important they truly are. I didn’t have much experience, but I have defined motherhood for myself. It meant just being there for Mario and trying my hardest for my little one, and to let him know that he is loved unconditionally, no matter what.

There is no one that can ever replace my mother. I will always love my mother no matter what, even though she wasn’t always able to be near. That experience has only taught me the importance of mothers. That was the first time I understood what Mother’s Day is all about.

Gina Messina-Dysert, Ph.D., is The Feminist Theologian, Visiting Assistant Professor of Theological Ethics at Loyola Marymount University, and Program Coordinator for the School of Religion at Claremont Graduate University.  She is also Co-founder and Co-director of Feminism and Religion, an international project that explores the “F-word” in religion and the intersection between scholarship, activism, and community.  As The Feminist Theologian, Gina collaborates with Joke Productions to explore feminist theology, spirituality, and current issues related to women, religion, and social justice through various forms of media (including blogs, videos, and podcasts) in an effort to create awareness and foster change.  

Gina earned her doctorate degree at Claremont Graduate University with a dual focus in women studies in religion and theology, ethics, and culture and completed a Master of Arts in religious studies at John Carroll University.  Gina also earned a Master of Business Administration with a dual focus in organizational leadership and marketing at the University of Findlay and completed her undergraduate degree at Cleveland State University.

As the author of multiple articles and the forthcoming book 'Rape Culture and Spiritual Violence,' Gina has given serious attention to issues faced by women in relation to religion and social justice.  Her research interests are theologically and ethically driven, involve a feminist and interdisciplinary approach, and are influenced by her activist roots and experience working with survivors of rape and domestic violence.

Gina is originally from Cleveland, Ohio and now resides in Southern California with her husband, daughter, and two dogs.  She continues to be active in movements to end violence against women and explores opportunities for spiritual healing for those who have encountered gender-based violence.