I'm a mom on a mission to get my kids through the jungle of puberty while keeping my sanity along the journey.
Welcome
Join me in my daily walk through the joys and struggles of parenthood. Share a word of encouragement or be encouraged. Cry a little, laugh a lot, but know it is all in divine order.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Wordless Wednesday - March is Reading Month
Do you need an excuse to avoid housework and read a book? Celebrate March is Reading Month, take time to pick up a book you've always wanted to read, put your feet up and relax. Encourage a child to read for the pure pleasure.
Monday, March 6, 2017
Bubble Blizzard
This is a short story/poem created for the 50 Precious Words Writing Challenge at Vivian Kirkfield's Blog. www.viviankirkfield.com. Thanks Vivian for sponsoring this challenge.
Flubble,
bubble gas and air,
Sparkle foam
lands here and there.
Crazy
bubbles, blow through straws,
Pop a
bubble, use your claws.
Bubbles
swirl, bubbles twirl,
Streams of
bubbles begin to hurl.
Bubble
blizzard starts to land
Floating quietly
onto a hand.
Flubble
bubble gone astray,
Just until
another day.
Muffins with Mom – Leftovers
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| photo credit |
My teen son
called me on the phone at the end of my work day. “Ma, what time are you coming
home? I want tacos for dinner.”
“I should be
there by 4:30pm, I’m finishing up a few things. Go ahead and start the tacos,”
I said.
“No, I’ll
wait for you.”
He waited,
and waited and waited.
When I
arrive home an hour later, my son was stretched across his bed asleep.
He mumbled a
few muffled words to me, “what took you so long?”
“Umm, I had
to wooork.”
“Now, I
don’t have time to eat. I have practice tonight.”
I had
already started making the tacos as soon as I entered the house. It was simple
enough that my son could have prepared the meal himself, but he opted to wait
for me. So, wait he did.
Our back and
forth banter continued.
“The tacos
are almost done, you can eat a couple before practice. Then eat more after
practice,” I said.
“I don’t
want to eat them after practice, they’ll be leftovers. You know I don’t like
leftovers.”
“I won’t put
the meat in the fridge. I’ll leave it at room temperature for you. You won’t be
at practice that long.”
“It will be
cold, I’ll have to warm everything up. It will be leftovers.”
In that
debate discussion with my son, I walked away with a new definition of
“leftovers”, from a teen’s perspective.
Do you have
a finicky eater in your family?
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