Two weeks ago my grandmother passed away. It wasn’t a surprise, we had known it was coming. But once it happened, the overwhelming sadness that came with it was inescapable. And I was actually surprised to be overcome with tears upon the news. (read the article…)
When kids disobey, it is our job to crack down on them. What they probably don’t know, however, is we really don’t want to. (read the article…)
Some experts are claiming that it is better to discourage best friendships in the childhood years. (read the article…)
It is a 6th grade right of passage to attend 6th grade camp before the end of the school year. It’s a way to celebrate the end of elementary school, and a way to make new friends from other schools before being bunched together in the big, scary halls of Jr. High.
“Four years?!?” I exclaimed when Mr. W and I first brought up talk of moving in with each other a month or two ago. We were both too scared to even mention the “M” word, but my sister’s recent visit to introduce her fiancé had me reeling and questioning my own life. While we’ve been together for 1.5 years, Mr. W and I are in agreement that neither one of us wants to give up our homes in the now. We both love being together, and spend every weekend with each other. But we also enjoy having our own place to come home to at night. We enjoy that quiet time of not having to speak if we don’t want to. Frankly, we are still enjoying our independence way too much to combine our homes and our families. Besides, one of us (most likely me) would be moving from our home town to reside in the other’s town. That would mean uprooting the kids from their schools and their friends, and having a much longer commute every day. It’s not an easy change either of us wanted to make in the present.
As the weather turns from gloomy to a cautious warmth of sun, long winter coats give way for tank tops and skirts, and the birds start building their nests and preparing for a family on the way, springtime brings forth twitterpated hopes and dreams of wedding bells on the horizon. It seems like everywhere I turn, someone is getting engaged or is already planning the party of a lifetime to celebrate their union with the one they love. One of my best friends is getting married this August and has been sharing the details of food tastings, venue shoppings, and the adventure of finding the perfect wedding gown that will make her a princess for a day. My sister met the man of her dreams 6 months ago and, because they just knew, they are now planning their own wedding slated for next summer. Even my sister’s roommate is in on the season of weddings and became engaged and then married all in one week. Wedding bells are being sounded far and near, and even the most happily single person is being affected by the siren of this marriage call.
Over the weekend, while my texting tween was hunched over her cell phone, she paused long enough to ask me if she could go over to the house of this new “friend” to hang out. I agreed, thinking that it was no different than when she went over to one of her other guy friend’s house. Her first guy friend had been friends with her since 1st grade, and for several years had even considered themselves best friends. I had gotten to know this kid well, as well as his family. And there had never been any reason to not let them hang out. But after I agreed to let my daughter hang out with this new “friend”, I immediately regretted the words. Why? My daughter was a tomboy, naturally drawn to being one of the guys at school, and chatting with her guy pals on Facebook. So what was causing me to bristle at the thought of her hanging out with one of the guys?
For one, it was the way they had been texting back and forth consistently for the past several days. Two, it was the way she lit up, eager to talk up his good points every time I asked a few innocent questions about who he was, what he liked, his intentions for my daughter, plans for the future, and what his parents did for a living. You know, innocent. Three, she was getting to the age when male-female friendships developed into something more than just hanging out, and I wasn’t sure that I had counseled her enough on matters of the heart and the art of being chaste.
Most of all, it was that I didn’t even know this kid or his parents. (more…) 
My mother called me over the weekend before the clock even hit 9 am.
“Are you at home right now?” she asked.
“I am.”
“What time are you going to take the kids over to their dad’s house?” she asked.
“Around 2,” I told her.
“Oh. That’s too late. Nevermind.”
She was being awfully cryptic, which of course got my curiosity up.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Well…..” She asked me if I remembered the Ninja Star that the Taz had been coloring at her house. Of course I remembered. He had colored it pure black and told me how all he had to do was throw it and it would whip through the air slicing anything in its way. I suggested that he not throw it in the kitchen, at least.
“I remember. Why?” I asked her.
“Well, apparently he was coloring it in my living room…” (more…) 
Single-parenting it since 2004.
About the players:
Me: 32 year old dreamer
DQ (Drama Queen): 12 year old dramatic tweenage daughter
The Taz: 9 year old tornado son
Mr. Wonderful: my patient and loving boyfriend
Ex: my ex-husband and my kids’ learning father
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