I think it’s time for Dora to upgrade to GPS.
Dear Hormones… There’s a major disconnect between you, my brain and my body. I’m talking about a Chernobyl meltdown caliber of dysfunction. Can we talk about the number seven? Seven is an interesting number. It’s a pretty small quantity if we’re talking about how many spoons might reside in a kitchen, but it’s an overwhelmingly large number when applied to children in a family. Seven is huge. We only have five at home now, but the nest is by no (...Read More)
We were driving home from the beach when 4 year old Luke lost it. By “lost it,” I mean, overtired-middle-child-syndrome-broken-record-insane-chanting lost it. We were listening to children’s music in the car, and I guess Luke wanted it to be a little louder. From the back of the car I heard, “Mama, I can’t hear.” But, when I directly addressed his complaint by turning up the music to a volume level a few notches lower than Will Definitely Deafen You, he (...Read More)
Now, y’all without sin go ahead and throw that first stone… I come from a small town. (Cue John Mellencamp music.) It’s a great place to live, if you like majestic mountains, winning sports teams, and knowing your neighbors. If, however, you’re an outsider—and act like one—you’re liable to find yourself on the wrong side of an angry mob, and that’s just what happened to my local newspaper editor. Mr. Editor has a habit of evoking strong emotions from the (...Read More)
From my stump speech: “Ask not what your parents can do for you. Ask what you can do for yourself!”