Category: parenting

Well the third annual Road-trip is officially on the books and I can honestly say it’s been the best one so far. Which is saying a lot, because we spent more time in the car than any other year.

32 accumulative hours, to be exact.

Not that I’m counting or anything.

As I told you guys last week, Amber and I decided to go big this year and brave the 12 hour drive to Disneyland. Which was really more like a 16 hour drive because CHILDREN. We spent 4 eight-hour days in the car (round-trip) and I’m happy to report that the kids handled it amazingly well. There was no melting down. There was no fighting. There weren’t even any complaints of hogging air-vents, or “she won’t stop looking at me!” like we’ve experienced in years past

And bonus: we listened to the entire Hamilton musical on the way, because what the heck else are you supposed to do in a car for 8 hours? Now, I should pause here to admit that I have been extremely resistant to all of the hype surrounding Hamilton. I had no intention of getting sucked in. I had no intention of caring at all. I certainly had no intention of becoming one of those people who are always blithering on about a musical and insisting other people listen to it.

But you guys.

It’s so good.

It really is incredible.

I had chills more than once listening to it.

It was kind of like that one time I thought I’d casually watch just the first episode of Scandal, and the next thing I knew it was 3am and I was in too deep to ever turn back. I’m afraid that Hamilton, much like Scandal, is a polarizing trend. You’re either in, or you’re out. There is no gray area. Read More…

Well I don’t want to jinx anything by saying it out loud, but I do believe things are finally quieting down around here. Our schedules have been so busy for the last two months that I’ve landed in July and I’m not even sure how I got here.

I’m entirely disoriented but I only have 5 days to get my bearings, because the most important week of summer (as far as the kids are concerned) is almost upon us.

It’s here, you guys.

It’s time for The Annual Ambers Road-trip. Read More…

My life is full of imaginary brick walls. Some thick and looming, some crumbled and deteriorating, and still others that are bright red and sturdy, shielding me from outside winds.

But the walls are everywhere. 

I told you recently about the wall I’d been building between my husband and I. I confessed how I had picked up each brick one by one, felt it’s weight, and then foolishly set it down between us. Never looking up, I worked tirelessly at my wall. It wasn’t until I stopped to see it for what it was- a lie, that I had the sense to stop. The wall was a lie because I always thought it kept me safe, but it turns out that it really only kept me separate. You see, some walls need to be brought down.

Other walls are brought down by accident, by sudden impact, or even by neglect.

There’s a wall that I haven’t told you about. I don’t think I’m ready to name it just yet. Maybe it’s not even mine to name, but it shares my landscape. This wall has begun to crumble. At first I was all action- running in every direction trying to catch the bricks as they fell away, trying desperately to stack them back into place. But now…

Now I’m just paralyzed in the moment.

I feel myself standing there at the bottom, frozen in a dust cloud of smoke and rubble, watching it fall. I want this wall to be strong again, but I am helpless because it is not mine to labor over. Some walls represent shared spaces, and at the end of the day that is all they are. Shared spaces. I can help clean up the wreckage but I cannot build the wall. It doesn’t belong to me.

Which got me thinking…

I’ve spent too much time toiling over the wrong walls. There are other, more important walls, after all. My marriage, for instance, is a load-bearing wall. It shelters me, protects me, and holds me up. It not only deserves, but requires my constant care. I must abandon my habit of building walls between us and instead build the wall of us.

Because if a wall is truly strong, it cannot be easily brought down. Read More…

I make a lot of confessions here, but for a long time I’ve wanted to share confessions from the male perspective. Seeing as how that’s impossible to do myself, I’ve been waiting for the perfect chance to outsource. That perfect chance presented itself when out of the blue, my good friend offered to write a piece for me. He knew exactly what he wanted to write about and it was perfect for the blog.

It was a bit of a trick, actually, because after we worked out the details and shook on it he informed me this meant I would obviously have to do a bit of public speaking for him in return. Ah. So that’s what just happened.

Regardless of what I may have gotten myself into, I’m so excited to be sharing my space today with Brant Boersma. Brant is the kind of person who’s charismatic personality, passion for life, and positivity naturally draws people in and encourages them. His words below are an important reminder that part of being a human is overcoming fear.

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My wife and I have three daughters, all significantly different, and all incredible. Teya Rose, Presley Shae, and Violet Wiley. My babies. I could carry on about how proud I am to be their dad, but if you have kids of your own then you already know what I mean. Parenting changes everything. You get that.

As a father to three girls, I keep hearing how I should be afraid of the coming teenage years. There’s stress over meaningless things, an unrivaled sassiness, a constant dissatisfaction and lack of gratefulness, and to top it all off: PUBERTY. Hormones kick in, periods happen, and things get awkward. And let’s not forget those effing teenage boys…

It’s true- all things considered, the teenage years do sound scary, but all in, life is just scary. Doubts, disappointments, uncertainty, failing, not being “enough”- these are all things that don’t depend on age or gender.

I’m talking about human things, I guess.  Read More…

I told myself I was going to take a week off- from writing, from cleaning, from constant “productivity”, from all of it.

“You’ve earned it!”, I told myself with real gusto. “Read! Watch TV! Lie around in your stretchy pants! Drink an extra cup of coffee and peruse the internet with zero guilt! Relish your freedom! Roll around in it like Demi Moore on the bed with all that money in Indecent Proposal!” (I like to talk to myself in all exclamation points, by the way. As a generally suspicious and sarcastic person, it makes me feel more positive about things and I like that.)

But here’s the thing: I can’t relax. I forgot how. It seems that the last 8 years of motherhood along with that burst of productivity in October really messed with my head. Read More…

Today I’m excited to share my space with one of my new blogging freinds, Ludavia. She writes over at Nifty Betty and she is all about embracing the beautiful mess of motherhood. I knew I’d found a kindred spirit when she wrote a whole piece about shaving her legs…or rather, not shaving.

Let’s just say she had me at “Let’s get real.” She is funny and sweet and I know you’ll love her just as much as I do.

~Here is her story.~

Yesterday I was rushing to get some milk at the grocery store before nap time hit. I threw on some clothes, packed up the kids, and ran out the door.

I made it to the store (safe and sound- if you were wondering), unpacked the kids, looked down, and noticed that I’m wearing capri pants have the hairiest legs! I mean, Chewbacca-hairy! I thought I shaved my legs. Did I?

~Flashback~

In the shower, it was like I was racing the second-hand of a clock. Washed the hair? Check. Soaped up? Check. Rinsed off? Check. Wait. Did I wash my hair? Oh geez! How long have I been in here? 5 minutes? 10? Read More…

How many times have you fellow mothers found yourself in a situation where you’re having pleasant small talk with another mom-acquaintance, which usually leads to talk about your kids (story swapping, anectode sharing, general inadvertent gushing) and said mom keeps slipping in comments about how she “really just can’t believe what a wonderful personality little Billy has,” or “how truly, truly lucky she feels, and so honored” to be little Suzy’s mother?

You feel yourself smile and graciously agree, saying something along the lines of, “Yes, they really are so charming,” and , “Yes, you really are so lucky”, when inwardly you are stifling a hearty eye-roll. I mean, come on. Let’s all be real here. Don’t all moms everywhere feel this way?

Don’t we all, deep in our hearts, feel that our children are somehow spectacular? Read More…

Humiliation can come in many forms for a third grader, but apparently I was in rare form yesterday because all it took to humiliate my third grader was to walk her into her classroom in my slashy workout pants.

It is the second time this school year that I have worn these pants. I know this because the first time I wore them to drop her off, some boy teased her all day about it. “What was your mom wearing? What’s up with those pants? Why are they all slashy? That’s so weird.” Etc. etc. etc.

Kids are jerks, man. Read More…

Today was the first day since my littlest started kindergarten that I found myself running errands alone. Did you hear that? ALONE.

You guys. I have waited for this day!

I shopped leisurely. I peacefully made my way through Costco without navigating my cart to every single sample station. I strolled through Trader Joe’s at my own pace without anyone accidentally pushing their kid-cart into my heels. I tried on clothes at Target and even perused the home goods aisle, because it turns out you can accomplish a lot more shopping when no one is constantly whining that they’re thirsty, no one has to use every single public restroom they see, and no one is asking you for the 17th time if you will buy them that package of twisty straws.

Like I said, I’ve waited a long time for this day. Read More…

Have you ever backed yourself into a corner as a parent? Thrown out an ultimatum you never wanted to follow through with? Promised a reward you didn’t think you’d actually have to produce? Claimed in a moment of frustration something along the lines of “If you ______ one more time I swear I will ______”? Have you ever regretted it later? 

If so, then I feel you. Let’s just start there.

I myself may, hypothetically, be currently residing in a very tight corner that I may or may not have backed myself into. Hypothetically.

Generally speaking, Husband and I are fairly level-headed with our parenting. I feel I can say that honestly. We try to teach, train, and even discipline our children in love. We try to avoid taking things personally or getting emotionally charged when they challenge us. We try to always bring it back to Jesus and what the Bible says about whatever behavior or attitude that’s become a problem. This helps. This takes the pressure off of us, in a sense. It is a common ground for us parents and kids to meet on. It is a foundation and a filter for how we raise our kids.

And that’s all fine and good.

But every once in a while our kids bust out with a real whopper. Every once in a while we are totally, completely baffled. And a maybe even a little angry. And by “every once in a while” I mean roughly every five minutes. 

Read More…