Rules for raising boys...

If you are going to be a Mommy to a little boy, it helps to have some ground rules. So here are a few of my favorites.

1."Toes DO NOT belong in sandwiches!"

2. "If you are going to sit on the couch, you MUST ALWAYS have on underwear! (preferably pants too.)

3. "Absolutely NO dinosaurs in your oatmeal!"

4. "Please stop pinching each other's butts"

5. " No sliding down the stairs on couch cushions!"

6." Yes, you can wrestle, but NO walking on heads!"

7. "Please stop shooting your underwear at each other!"

8."It is NEVER OK to eat crayons"

9. "It is NEVER OK, to have a baby powder war"
10. "You are NOT allowed to jump off of the top bunk!"
11. "it is never OK to finger paint with peanut butter and jelly!"
12. "Color on paper. ALWAYS. ONLY ON PAPER!!!!"

What are your family rules?

The story of three chairs

I am 4 years old, with short brown hair and big wondering eyes. I hold the hand of my mother as we walk toward the yard sale. I remember it was early and the sun shone down on a gorgeous southern  morning. We head to the spread out blankets, and there I spot it. A little rocking chair  just my size.  It is cheap, beige, plastic, with a rung loose .I sit down and my little heart thrills with hope. I am instantly smitten. I sit and rock my baby doll . I am totally content and begin to sing a lullaby. I lose myself in my pretend world. I don't escape notice for long, my mother and the neighbor  begin to talk to me, "what a sweet mommy you will be" said the neighbor. " Yes she will be a great mommy she rocks all her babies to sleep". I hear them and secretly thrill at their words, but I am content just to rock and imagine.

I am 9 years old  ( and not nearly as cute as when I was 4) My hair is scraggly and and my teeth are very crooked.  my brother and I are visiting my Grandmother's house for the summer. She has an old  rocking chair. It is black with gold stenciling, it is covered with comfortable cushions. Just the ticket for rocking and listening to her tell stories of her childhood. We rock and she talks and I listen. Then I chatter nonsensically, and she listens, but it is the alone time with her that I treasure. Before I go to bed she braids my hair. It was such a simple act, but it made me feel like a princess.  The chair now sits in my bedroom, and every time I see it my mind goes back to that summer when I had my Grandmother all to myself for a whole week. I will never get rid of it, it is an icon from my childhood and symbol of family that I cherish.


I am 20 years old and a new mother. My husband and I are in the process of settling into our new on base housing. One of our first purchases is a beige glider and ottoman. As soon as it is set up I rock my newborn son and slip  into a comfortable rhythm. My son doesn't seem to care for the rocker like I do,and promptly deposits his lunch on the arm. It is OK I bought in beige to hide stains. The rocker and I have been together now for 4 years. It has rocked 3 babies and is now in shambles. My mother keeps dropping not so subtle hints like " Wow you need a new rocker." "David does't Briana DESERVE a new rocker" "Gee  the cat really did destroy that pocket didn't she" "Is that another stain?!?!?" " Maybe we can recover it with new fabric?" "Lets staple the loose fabric back on." " That rocker sure is rickety." I haven't had the heart to tell her, rickety or not, the rocker is staying until it can't rock anymore.

If the rocker could talk it would tell tales of late night feedings, and teething, and sick tummies, of nightmares, and lullabies. Just last night, all three kids piled on my lap , and we rocked and read books until I was almost hoarse. I think the rocker would also tell a story about a mom who made peace with motherhood. It took quite a while for me to find that peace. I did not find it,reading mommy message boards, or listening to the latest child rearing advice. I found it when I took an honest look at my life, and realized that I am exactly where God wants me to be. I am also doing exactly what I have always wanted to do,building a family with the man I love.  It isn't glamorous,and I am not particularly good at it, but I love it.

If looks could kill...

Everyone has advice for mothers.

Can we stop it please? Really I have been getting advice about parenting for four years now. It is exhausting and annoying. I can hardly take it anymore. The iPhone mom drama pushed me over the edge. I was so enraged by that little piece of advice, that I baked a triple batch of chocolate cookies to decompress. I have received many pieces of advice and almost all of it contradictory and unhelpful.  Between the medical community taking away almost all culinary pleasures (of pregnant women), and well meaning bystanders, I sometimes feel as if my head is going to explode. "No sugar! No coffee! No gluten! No fruit! No fish! No TV!  No Video games (it makes them blind)! Keep them in a car seat until they can file a restraining order against you! Elimination communication! Leave them in a diaper until they are ready! Cloth diapers! Disposable diapers!"

It’s just. SO MUCH. I truly don't believe I am the only one who gets overwhelmed by all the advice.  Everyone seems to think they have the right to tell me how to raise my kids. Really. EVERYONE. I once got a lecture on food choices (while I was ordering) from a Papa John’s employee. I was lectured again (while in Starbucks) about the evils of drinking coffee while pregnant (I was drinking hot chocolate) what is a mama to do?  So here we go:

Advice - response

"Your car seat set up is all wrong" -- O YEA?? JUST LIKE YOUR FACE!!! (No? Too harsh?)(Why yes maturity has always been my strong point.)

"If let your kids watch TV it will stunt their development"- How about I stunt YOUR development???? (Say it while you ball your fist, and have that crazed woman on the edge look in your eye)

"Breastfeeding grosses me out" - Well, we all have to put up with things that annoy us. (More effective if you say this one with a pointed look at the offender)

"You already have 3 kids and you want more?!?!?!"-As a matter of fact, I feel like making another right now. (pinch your husband’s heiny as you walk away, they will never comment again)

"You are huge! Are you sure you don't have twins in there?"- Yes, very sure, but thank you for the confidence boost. Or - You’re just jealous of how sexy I make this belly look.

"But you are too YOUNG to have kids!"- Yea we really should have waited until we were much much much much older, like you. 

“Mommy why your butt big?" - OK fine my 4 year old said that, but if I would have had my wits about me I would have responded "because daddy likes it that way". Kidding.  Sort of.

Disclaimer I have never actually said any of these things... because I am a chicken. Also because I know that most people don't mean any harm when they say clueless things. I say dumb things sometimes too (ask the hubs). From now on I am going to attempt to kick the mom guilt out of my life, and just do the best I can and trust God with the rest. If it means that I don't measure up, so be it. I am grateful that God is a much better parent than I will ever be. 

Among this sea of clueless comments I have had a few really cool experiences, both from total strangers.

Once I was having furniture delivered, and I was making small talk with the delivery guy. He looked at my two boys, and then took in my hugely pregnant belly and said "Wow now THAT'S a happy marriage" Ha! 

 Another time the whole family was shopping at ALDI (Oh you shop at Whole Foods? I shopped there once ...and then we went bankrupt. ) and a stranger behind us in the checkout line, stopped to take the time and say "Wow now those are some well behaved little ones". She then proceeded to say what an important and good job we were doing. That little bit of encouragement meant the world to me. So thank you strangers, thank you for not giving me advice and for meeting me where I was. You may never know it but your words helped me greatly.

I have gotten some really great advice as well “parenthood will be the hardest thing you will ever do, but it will be the most worth it". That statement has become my motto. It's WORTH it, to struggle, and to discipline, and to put up with clueless comments, and abuse from your kids, and with stretch marks, and sleepless nights, and groggy days. Those little guys of mine they are just so worth it.

       I never pictured myself as a mother to little boys, in all of my dreams about motherhood, I fantasized mainly about pink dolls, and lacy socks, and ballet recitals. Instead I find myself in a world that can sometimes be incredibly hard to relate too.  Especially because almost all my friends and cousins have adorable well behaved girls who would never think of putting their brother in a headlock or wiping their boogers on the kitchen towel. If you are a momma to little boys this is the place for you, I can’t promise wise advice, from a seasoned veteran mom, but I can offer a shoulder to lean on, and perhaps a laugh or two.

       You will not find euphoric ideas about motherhood on this blog. I know I can’t be the only one who has had a slightly different perspective on motherhood. My life is very rarely Pinterest worthy. In fact my idea of a vacation would be to be left alone to do whatever I please for a solid 5 hours, and then sleep through the entire night, ahhhh bliss. Another great vacation idea would be a day with no wiping. I am fairly certain that I spend at least 50% of my time wiping butts. Bonus points if I don’t have to chase the poopy butt down the hallway. You haven’t arrived in parenting, until you have chased a poopy savage around the house screeching “DON’T YOU DARE SIT DOWN! COME BACK HERE AND LET ME WIPE YOU!!!!!”.  Ah raising boys, tis an adventure.  Does it seem like I talk about poop a lot? I know I do.  Forgive me dear (5) readers, I need an outlet.

       Despite the differences between me and the Savage crew, I have learned to adapt to their strange ways. We watch MMA together (I scream louder than anybody when my favorite fighter wins). I now know more about weapons than I ever thought possible and even weirder, I really enjoy learning about them. I just received my first firearm for my upcoming birthday, and get this, it was my idea and I am thrilled! Slowly but surely this pack of hooligans have been rubbing off on me, toughening me, and stretching me.  I am starting to enjoy their rough and tumble ways (if not the grossness).  Allow me to say that I am NOT a tomboy; I am as girly as they come.  However I am really looking forward to t-ball, and if it exists anywhere pee wee wrestling.  Stop laughing. My kids would be great at that.  Maybe they can’t color and create like the girls do, but they sure are good at take downs.  So are you in?  Do you want to see a southern sweetie wrangle her three little savages? Good, stay tuned.