Raising an obese terrorist (Mama Marlaine) 05/31/2011
Sometimes life is just plain excrutiating. On such days denial helps and -when denial is insufficient - prayer is particularly welcome. Today I am sincerely praying that I am not, despite all physical evidence to the contrary, raising an obese terrorist.
1 Comment Twins with a 1950's housewife by Mama Emma 02/28/2011
Half a century on, it strikes me there’s not much difference between the modern woman and a 50s housewife. My husband walks in from work and routinely finds me whipping something up in the kitchen (usually a blog entry, sometimes a corporate workshop, occasionally a chapter for the vampire-free young adult sci-fi romance – today, this comparative exposition about modern women being like 50s housewives).
Dinner is waiting. Waiting… waiting… Chastened by a cheerleader.. (Mama Marlaine) 01/31/2011
Ashamed though I am today confessing, I once hated cheerleaders. Actually, once is too small a word because it was truthfully decades and hate is too strong a word because I have never really hated anything except peas and brussel sprouts. As second of five girls growing up in the era of budding feminism however - I definitely was not a fan. Why, if it was so important I wondered, didn’t boys cheer for girls? The disparity caused me to view cheerleading on the whole as suspect and their forced smiles in particular as degrading to our gender. Then God, in all his wisdom, gave me daughters…
After they're gone.. (Mama Kim) 11/30/2010
As I was getting my kids ready to venture into the great northeastern November outdoors this morning, and dreading our mere 500 yard trek to the bus stop, I said the phrase no “good parent” ever says.
Why are your clothes all over the floor? Pick up your trash! What is your bike doing in the front yard? Stop picking on your brother! Get your wet butt off my couch! Don't scratch that, it'll spread! Ahh, the sounds of summer..
We're only into the second week of vacation here and it's feeling like I've lost control already. Dear Mom, (by Mama Marlaine) 12/15/2008
A woman returned home from work one evening and, as she set a bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, noticed a letter written by her 16 year old daughter Julie. The two of them had argued that morning so she figured it was some type of apology. Never in a million years did she anticipate what was written.
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