Football season is upon us. I'm sure some of you are thrilled about its arrival. I am not.
My 2-year-old daughter, Reese, adores the Disney movie, "Frozen." I admit, it's a cute flick with plenty of catchy tunes and even a few good one-liners. There's one part, however, that I'm having trouble explaining to Reese, and I fear I'll have even more difficulty with it as she gets older.
I recently enjoyed a week in my hometown of St. Louis, Missouri, with my family. Usually, when I visit the best city in the country (my own personal opinion there), I only have a few days in which to squeeze in trips to my favorite restaurants, a little rest and relaxation, outings with relatives and an evening or two with old friends. So it was wonderful to have a little more time.
A massive scavenger hunt soon will wind through the streets of Liberty County to help raise funds for and boost Alzheimer's awareness in the community while providing a day of fun for area families.
Right after my daughter's birth, I thought I never had enough time to get things done. I had a new baby, I'd just returned to work and I was adjusting to a lot of "firsts." While I enjoyed my precious, new little one and devoted as much time as I possibly could to my career, laundry stacked up, dishes went unwashed, tumbleweeds of dog hair and dust rolled lazily across the kitchen floor and a thin layer of dust coated nearly every surface in my house.
My 2-year-old is a chatterbox. I have no idea where she gets it from. (I'm being sarcastic, of course; it's obviously a trait passed down directly from me.)
I've always heard and read that it's a good idea to involve children in meal-preparation efforts, because they're more likely to eat dishes that they helped cook. That makes sense.
Toddlers have very active imaginations. My 2-year-old daughter comes up with some pretty tall tales and, while I know they aren't malicious, I'm conflicted about whether I should draw a line when it comes to "fanciful fibs." I don't want her to grow up thinking it's acceptable to lie; however, I'm also quite certain that at the age of 2, she doesn't even understand what a lie is. How and when can you teach a toddler not to do something she doesn't even realize she's doing?
I wish toddler enthusiasm was infectious. I love seeing my 2-year-old daughter happy about anything and, to an extent, her elation at simple things does wear off on me. However, it would be nice if I could get as excited about anything in life - anything at all - as Reese does about blowing bubbles. Or sitting in a wading pool in the backyard. Or getting a taste of apple juice that hasn't been cut with water to reduce the sugar content.
Happy Father's Day to all the dads out there. It seems to me that there once was a time - now, this was decades ago, mind you - when, if a father did anything out of the ordinary, he was commended and praised for going above and beyond.
There are good things and bad to be said about finally having a school-aged child. Although my husband and I still have a few more years to go before our 2-year-old daughter, Reese, starts elementary school, we often think and talk about how much easier it'll make life for our family.
For months on end in 2013, my daughter had a chronic, rough-sounding cough, severe chest congestion and back-to-back bouts with viruses and infections. To rule out serious illnesses and conditions such as pneumonia, childhood asthma and cystic fibrosis, we saw multiple doctors and specialists, one of whom - a pediatric pulmonologist - sent my then-20-month old toddler for a chest X-ray. Thankfully, it was clear.
No matter how old I get, I still need my mom - and my mother-in-law. That's especially true now that I have my own family, house, career and other obligations. This precarious juggling act necessitates a need for motherly help like never before.
Liberty County residents and visitors had a couple different options for observing Memorial Day - some drier than others.
Though National Nurses Week 2014 ended earlier this week, the jobs nurses do remain important to the health-care field all year long. They care for the sick, the recovering, the newly born and the dying. They support families in need, and they often go without recognition for the essential, behind-the-scenes roles they play.
Most mornings, I spend about five minutes pulling my freshly washed hair into a ponytail. It's easy, it's efficient, and, I like to tell myself, it's even chic. When I know I'll be meeting important people or attending special events, however (like, say, the United Way annual campaign kick-off party or a chamber of commerce breakfast), I break out the products and utensils and spend an extra 20 minutes or so coaxing my locks into what I hope is a more professional-looking style.
I realize, perhaps better than anyone, that it's not polite to ask others about their reproductive plans. I've long ranted about how much it annoyed me when friends, family members and even perfect strangers would inquire about a possible plunge into parenthood. Even now, as most of my readers know, I get aggravated when people ask whether my 2-year-old daughter, Reese, will ever be a sister.
Last week, seemingly all the national news agencies reported on the American Academy of Pediatrics' new recommendation that middle and high schools start no earlier than 8:30 a.m. to help ensure older children get more sleep.
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