Mom’s Blog

I’m a survivor. No, I don’t have a yellow ribbon on my lapel or a group that meets every Thursday night. Instead, I have a twenty-one year old daughter. And in order for her to have achieved that number, she and I had to go through her teenage years. It’s what I affectionately call, the “Seven Years of Hell.” Not that all of it was bad, mind you, because it wasn’t. But, like a malignant fungus, it began slowly and kind of crept up on my wife and myself. I tell you how it affected me during that period. Two words: Oh, My God!

You see, now I can’t even count anymore.

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Posted on June 26th, 2006 by Dee
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The very modest beginning of mother’s day can be traced to spring celebrations of ancient Greece in honor of Rhea, the Mother of the Gods. During the 1600’s, England celebrated a day called “Mothering Sunday”. Celebrated on the 4th Sunday of Lent, “Mothering Sunday” honored the mothers of England. The tribute to celebration of the mother’s day should be given to Anna Jarvis who first decided to raise awareness of poor health conditions in her community, a cause she believed would be best advocated by mothers. She called it “Mother’s Work Day.

During this time many of the England’s poor worked as servants for the wealthy. As most jobs were located far from their homes, the servants would live at the houses of their employers. On Mothering Sunday the servants would have the day off and were encouraged to return home and spend the day with their mothers. A special cake, called the mothering cake, was often brought along to provide a festive touch.

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Posted on May 13th, 2006 by Dee
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This is for the mothers who have sat up all night with sick toddlers in their arms, wiping up puke laced with Oscar Mayer wieners and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here”

Who have sat in rocking chairs for hours on end soothing crying babies who can’t be comforted? This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their purse.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON’T.

This is for the mothers who gave birth to babies they’ll never see. And the mothers who took those babies and gave them homes.

This is for the mothers whose priceless art collections are hanging on their refrigerator doors.

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Posted on May 10th, 2006 by Dee
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Sometimes ya just have to sit and admit that you’ve had one helluva week and that you’re really thankful everyone got through it okay.

My 13-year-old son, CJ, is a stereotypical, active young man. He skateboards, plays baseball, football and generally tries anything that has the potential of landing him at the clinic or hospital.

But sometimes, even a ‘normal’ childhood injury can turn deadly. Here’s CJ’s latest ‘terror story’ (at least, it was terror for mom!).

It was last Sunday and he had baseball practice in the gym. While diving for a grounder he scraped the inside of his elbow. No big deal - it was one of those normal, every-day ‘berry’ scrapes that kids get HUNDREDS of.

The following FRIDAY (note: dang near a week later), he wakes up, comes downstairs and goes “Mom, my elbow hurts. And, my armpit hurts too.”

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Posted on April 11th, 2006 by Dee
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As I’ve said here before, I’m a mom of six - ranging in age from 13 to almost 23. I’m far from perfect and even further from knowing it all about raising kids. However, I do have some pretty firm ideas on teaching children simple respect.

I work online full-time, so, to get my expanding butt out of the house I work at a local small bar/restaurant a couple days a week. In the course of this “time out for mom job”, I come in contact with a wide variety of folks - many of them parents.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve muttered under my breath as I’ve watched parents laugh at their children when the kids start throwing French fries at each other across the table. And, these kids aren’t toddlers, they are pre-teens and sometimes teenagers.

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Posted on March 17th, 2006 by Dee
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