Although you, my devoted readers and fans, likely are reading this on Mother's Day, it was written several days ahead of time, so I have no idea what kinds of surprises this special day will hold for me.
This column almost didn't happen. I didn't think I'd have time to write it.
By the time this column makes it into print, my daughter's first birthday party already will have gone down in history as a resounding success - I hope. The Saturday soiree (which was yesterday if you're reading this Sunday) has kept me busy for weeks, sending out invitations, making shopping lists for party food and decorations, tidying up my house, scheduling a landscaper and a carpet steam cleaner, selecting the perfect dress for Reese - even grooming our dog!
My little family is about to make a big change. For the first time in her life, my baby girl is going to go to daycare. We've already enrolled her, and she starts next week.
I'm sure glad I don't remember my teething days. Judging by what my baby is going through right now, they likely weren't pleasant.
The world of online forums, message boards, social-media networks and blogs would have you believe there are two types of mothers - silky and crunchy.
Twice in recent weeks, I've exited the interstate on my daily commute and noticed - in two different places - bags of scattered fast-food rubbish lying in the grass by the side of the road. Both times, the remnants of children's meals - milk cartons and telltale cartoon-character packaging - were among the discarded cartons and wrappers. This tells me that children likely witnessed adults irresponsibly disposing of trash. How sad.
I've recently become a serious label reader. Previously while grocery shopping, I'd glance at the data on the back of food packages to make sure the item I was about to purchase didn't contain an entire day's worth of fat, or I'd do a quick comparison to determine which brand of granola bars contained fewer calories. But since my baby girl began eating solid food, I've pretty much made a career out of studiously inspecting every scrap of nutritional information I can get my hands on.
I usually don't like Christmas. Now, before I offend anyone, let me make it perfectly clear that it's the commercialization and the added family stress that leave a bad taste in my mouth. The celebration of Jesus' birth is - and should be -the focal point of the holiday.
Those little stick-figure families plastered to the back windshields of SUVs and minivans annoy me. Who cares if you have three kids who enjoy wearing Mickey Mouse ears, two dogs and a cat? Not me. From what I gather, I'm not alone on this.
The differentiation between stay-at-home moms and working moms may not be as pronounced these days as it has been in the past, but I do believe it still is alive and well. I don't think either group works hard to keep this barrier in place; it just seems to exist due to different lifestyle habits, schedules and family routines.
I wish I could pick and choose which of my habits, traits and characteristics my daughter will inherit and pick up. Since Reese was born in April, I find myself increasingly thinking about trying to set a good example. I haven't actually implemented any changes, however. It's much easier to talk the talk than it is to walk the walk.
Now that I'm a parent, I'm much more willing to cut other moms and dads slack when their children misbehave or become upset in public. As an impatient 20-something, I used to get annoyed when a crying baby drowned out the conversation my husband and I were trying to have over dinner in a restaurant. In grocery stores, I'd roll my eyes in disbelief as a harried mom tried to coax her tantrum-throwing toddler back to a relatively calm state. In malls, I was quick to judge dads who attempted to placate exhausted, teary little ones with ...
My daughter Reese recently breezed through her first air-travel experience when she and I went to visit family in St. Louis.
Nearly 90 local residents spent a brisk Saturday morning running and walking Hinesville's streets to increase breast-cancer awareness.
Despite buzz last year that Midway residents would be able to satisfy their Big Mac cravings without having to leave city limits, McDonald's never did set up shop at the Highway 84/Interstate 95 interchange. Rumor had it that the halted restaurant plan boiled down to an expensive right-turn lane required by the Georgia Department of Transportation.
I don't believe in illness. OK, perhaps I should rephrase that - I don't believe in a minor illness' ability to keep me down. Unless I'm dragging a limb, hospitalized or totally unable to keep food down at all, I refuse to disrupt my ultra-busy daily routine to do silly things like "rest" or "recuperate."
Call me an old-timer, but moms and dads just did things differently when I was a child. The overall approach to parenting seems to have changed so much. My parents fostered independence in my siblings and me. They wanted us to learn early on that we needed to be able to speak and do things for ourselves, and the sooner we understood that, the better off we'd be.
There is nothing more important than the safety and protection of innocent children. Not constitutional rights, not animal rights, not thoughts, opinions, feelings or political beliefs. The lives of children must be given top priority.
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