A friend directed me to a blog about a couple whose daughter is two and half and terminally ill with a brain tumor. I hesitated. It's so much easier to choose against learning more, not entering the lives of these people, or allowing this precious child to enter my life. I've done this before and it always leaves me with a pain in my heart, burning behind my eyes, and a lump in my throat. I hate to read these blogs, hate being reminded that life is so fleeting. I end up thinking about them for weeks, so I try to avoid them. But, against my better judgment, I clicked on the link.
I read a few beautiful posts written by the little girl's mother. I saw her smiling face and sweet curls. I started to comment on a post, because it felt like the right thing to do. It took a few tries and each time I deleted my words and started again. And then again. And again. Finally, I had to ask myself: Do they really want comments from strangers? Would telling them that I have been moved or saddened
Blog Posts by Lisa
User Post: What do you say when a parent talks about their terminally ill child?
By Lisa | Parenting – Fri, Sep 9, 2011 6:00 AM EDT
Read More »from Cleaning: It's OK to Outsource
I grew up with a stay-at-home mom who did it all. She cooked full dinners, baked like crazy, kept the house super clean, was the queen of crafts, and volunteered constantly in our schools. One might call her Super Mom.
Somehow, this apple fell a little further away from the tree. I work a full time (often more) job, cannot stand crafts, and do not find joy in a spotless window.
My first year of being a mom was tough for the many, many reasons they tend to be for all of us. I was constantly feeling like my world was in disarray, because my house was a disaster. My husband and I would spend hours every Saturday taking turns watching our son while the other scrubbed, vacuumed, swept, and dusted. And those were only the Saturdays we didn't have other stuff going on or when people were actually coming over.
I finally brought up hiring a cleaning service. It wasn't easy and came with an incredible amount of guilt at not being able to handle it myself. Isn't 'ability to clean' a mandatoryEarly on in our marriage my husband and I discussed plans for how our children's
Read More »from Starting With Soccer
childhoods would be scheduled and structured. My husband grew up in a rural area, lived in the middle of the woods, and had limited scheduled activities. His imagination often served as his playmate and he has wonderful memories of laying in the grass, staring at the clouds, and getting lost all day in a world he created. I, on the other hand, grew up in the suburbs and was overbooked with activities. I have great memories of daily dance classes, swim team, soccer, cheerleading, piano, horseback riding, Girl Scouts, and even not-so-great memories of softball and tennis. I tried just about everything.
Of course we each see the value in the different ways we grew up in regard to activities. Our mothers made decisions based on their own childhoods and what they had available for us. My mom grew up with a strict father who didn't allow activities, so she wanted her daughters to benefit from the social aspect
