Toddlers

It was a normal day. We had just come back from some late morning errands. I got everyone back in the house and lunch started. Driving home, we were discussing everyone having dinosaur nuggets. Enthusiasm and cheer erupted from...

I don’t know about you, but right now I am in that stage where I feel like I will never really get a moment’s peace in my life. With a 9 year old, 2 year old and an 8...

Work to remember what they’ve told you about certain school friends, certain likes and dislikes and their ideas for the future. These important things will come up again. When we recall previous conversations, our kids know we are listening and care about them.

I love going into my kid's room after they are fast asleep. It's that cliche movie scene where the parent cracks open the door once their kids are sleeping and they check in on them. This is my favorite time...

Time with them is slipping through my fingers, like water wildly gushing from a faucet. I know I can do nothing to stop or alter the flow. But I need to do a better job of closing my fingers and creating a cup to drink from and savor before it flows over and passes me by.

But now we have come to what I call the sweet spot. The kids are between, say, 3 and 6. They believe in Santa and his magic. And they are suckers for all of the advertising on TV. They may be a little shy but parents or elves usually can coax them to at least stand next to Santa as they mumble to him about the Lego set or doll or robot they want him to bring.

Learning to listen is not an easy task. I still find it challenging at times, and I can't just blame it on my enneagram type. I'm not talking about powering through Transformers tangent #84 for the day when it's wine o'clock and the kids should be in bed. What I'm talking about is really listening to the things they're saying to you. I'm talking about not asking the question until you're ready to receive the answer.

I love Summer vacation for so many reasons. My kids get a much needed break from a long, intense and busy school year, my husband (who is a teacher and coach) gets a much needed break and I get...

I’ve come to realize that my home is a lot like my heart. There are days where I scrub it clean and prepare it for goals, dreams, and work and for those days where I’ve invited people in—to gather and play. Sometimes, I'm simply enjoying the few seconds where I’m alone and it's quiet. But truth is, on every one of these days—the walls of my heart will always reflect the same; tiny little hands that have made them theirs.

When would my life stop revolving around poo? Would it ever? I was an educated woman. I had hopes and dreams. I used to be able to speak in complete sentences. But here I was, spending each day trying desperately to reason with a toddler.