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Five Parenting Mistakes I'm Doomed to Repeat

April 17, 2014

I consider myself to be a fairly quick learner. I’ve memorized the names and faces of every engine from Thomas and Friends, all the cars in Disney’s Cars and Cars 2, about 40 species of dinosaur, and more space facts than I could list here. Keeping up with my three year old is better than Sudoku for keeping the mind sharp. It helps to counteract the brain cell death from chronic sleep deprivation, excessive whining, and Mickey Mouse Club House.

However, for some reason there are lessons that just never seem to stick with me no matter how many times I learn them the hard way.

Five parenting mistakes I’m doomed to repeat:

1. Bathing with the kids – When my first son was born it seemed like the perfect way to ease him into his first bath, score some extra bonding time, and save my back and knees from bending over the tub trying to hold a squirming infant. Genius, right? Wrong. My oldest son used to poop EVERY time we put him in the bath until he was about 6 months old. It was sort of like the timer letting us know that bath time was over. Damn, he pooped. I guess it’s time to get out.

It was like the mustard yellow cloud of doom and it was only a matter of time each night before I’d get bombed. Yet, for reasons I can’t even begin to defend, I still bathe with both kids. Luckily the baby doesn’t have his brother’s affinity for pooping in the tub, but we still have the occasional blow out. Would it kill me to lean over the tub and bathe them from the outside? No, of course not. Would bathing them from outside the tub drastically reduce the number of times I get pooped on? Yes, of course it would. Do I stop bathing with the kids? No. Apparently I’m a glutton for punishment.

2. Running a quick errand without the diaper bag – I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought, Well, I’ll just be out for half an hour, I don’t need to lug the diaper bag. It’s like the parenting version of saying It’ll be a piece of cake or What’s the worst that can happen? It’s the kiss of death for anyone with young children. No matter how quick your errands are, there is always time for a massive poop explosion or severe wardrobe malfunction. Often times, the two go hand in hand.

I once took my baby to an insurance meeting. I knew the meeting was only going to last a few minutes so I left the diaper bag at home. Of course, we ended up waiting for half an hour in the lobby and the moment we sat down in the agent’s office my son turned that tell-tale shade of purple. The benefit to having an extremely foul smelling child with you at an insurance meeting is he didn’t try to sell me anything and I was out of there in three minutes flat. Unfortunately, I had to change my baby’s diaper in the trunk of my car, wipe him with an old towel I found under the front seat, strap him into his car seat naked from the waist down, and just hope for an uneventful drive home. I still haven’t learned to keep a spare diaper in the car. Old french fries: yes. Anything useful: nope.

3. Planning to do ANYTHING productive during nap time – Almost every day I make plans to fill my “free time” when I put the baby down for his nap. I intend to take on a ton of housework, the yoga I swore I’d do last night at 2:00am while I couldn’t sleep, the blog reading I need to catch up on, the blog writing I definitely need to catch up on, and the relaxing I really want to do. There’s also the little detail of the three year old I should be spending quality time with. It’s a completely reasonable, not at all ambitious, itinerary for the hour and half that the baby usually naps.

Except the moment I make plans, the moment I choose to play with the kids while in the morning instead of doing my chores thinking I’ll have time later, the moment I get cocky about how well my baby sleeps, that is the day he decides he no longer needs to nap. So then instead of accomplishing even one of those tasks I end up listening to the baby scream on the monitor for half an hour before eventually giving up and rescuing him from his crib. Then I have a cranky baby, a messy house, an attention starved three year old, and a flabby tummy. Epic failure.

Of course, this lesson goes both ways. If I ever make plans to go somewhere because I figure the baby won’t need or want to take a nap that afternoon, then he’ll sleep for 3 hours. Every time. And instead of taking advantage of the unexpected free time, I sit and stare at the monitor certain that he’ll be awake any minute. I really am a slow learner.

4. Letting the kids eat their weight in fruit – Fruit is healthy, right? So if your kid wants to sit and eat an entire box of blueberries as a snack, you should thank you lucky stars it’s not Cheetos and tell him to go nuts? Well, as it turns out there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, even fruit. When a 20 pound baby eats 2 pounds of blueberries bad things happen.

Remember that horrible black tar-poop that babies do for the first couple days after they’re born? Well, imagine that only three times bigger, smellier, and riddled with entire blueberries that I guess the baby just couldn’t be bothered to chew before swallowing. You’ll never see blueberry cobbler the same way again. However, the next day when the three year old asks for strawberries I’ll once again set him down with the entire bowl, knowing I’m going to regret it later when he has to poop all night long.

5. Traveling with children – Once you have children, the very high risk that your flight will be delayed, or that you’ll have to sit on the runway for an hour upon arrival, or that someone will vomit on you during the flight becomes more consequential. No one likes sitting around with nothing to do in a crowded airport, but a toddler and an infant go completely nuts. Fueled only by twizzlers and potato chips from the vendors at the airport, the children refuse to nap, quiet down, stop vibrating, or listen to a single word you say. It’s Hell with an audience of crabby wannabe travelers ready to glare daggers in your direction until you change seats.

Then once you arrive at your destination, assuming you’ve all survived the initial traveling, your children will once again refuse to sleep. They’re either jet lagged, over tired, under tired, whacked out on sugar and adrenaline, or just plain stubborn. Either way, they’re not sleeping. So you know all that sightseeing or visiting with friends you were planning on doing? Well, now you’re going to have to sleep in the bed with your restless toddler all night long while he kicks you repeatedly in his sleep. You could do that at home.

The next morning it will take everyone until 11am to wake up, eat breakfast, get dressed, get undressed again after the baby inevitably smears avocado all over everything and everyone in the room, and convince the sleep deprived toddler that there are better things to do than watch traffic out the hotel window. Once you’ve accomplished every one of those tasks and are finally ready to go enjoy the vacation you’ve worked so hard to take, the baby will yawn and it will be time to put him down for his nap. It’s just not worth it for the hour a day you manage to spend doing something other than sit in the hotel room.

I’m sure there are many other parenting lessons that seem to just go in one ear and out the other, but these are the ones that I seem doomed to repeat for all time like some sort of gypsy curse. What are your parenting lessons you’ve learned (or not learned!) the hard way?

Mary Widdicks is a 30-year-old mother of two boys, two male dogs, and an ever­ changing number of gender-­indeteriminate fish. Her husband calls her ‘Honey’, the three-year-old calls her ‘Mommy’, the baby calls her ‘Milk’, the dogs call her their Indentured Servant, and she’s pretty sure the fish have no idea who she is at all. She is also the writer of the humorous parenting blog www.outmannedmommy.com. You can also find her on Twitter.

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You Have the Luxury to Not Vaccinate Your Child Because I Vaccinate Mine

April 16, 2014

The recent outbreaks of measles in the United States hurts my scientific heart. And I say “heart” not because the way I regard vaccines is based on a feeling or what a Playboy Bunny said or a real estate mogul tweeted, but because there are children who are seriously ill who could have been protected.

My scientific brain that was put through the rigors of earning a Microbiology B.S. and an M.D. from the University of Maryland is not happy either. I’m not practicing medicine at this time, but I know vaccines are safe because I have read and evaluated the scientific research. It is not swayed by the hype that drives ratings sweeps and cranks up website pageviews. If the MMR (measles/mumps/rubella) vaccine was a cartoon, many would draw it with a pitchfork and horns.

I understand that as an individual, it may seem like no big deal for YOU to skip immunizations for your kids or to alter the administration schedule. “It’s MY right. I’m just being safe.” Unfortunately, you are part of a community or as it is put in immunological terms, a “herd.”

It all comes down to herd immunity. When many people are immunized, it doesn’t leave a place for the diseases to “breed and live.” When the community at large is vaccinated and protected, this means that people who are not eligible to be vaccinated such as infants, pregnant women, and immunocompromised people also get some measure of protection from the disease because the collective “community immunity” doesn’t give it room to spread. This also means that even if a vaccine is not 100% effective, people are unlikely to get sick because the disease is just not around.

So if YOU decide not to vaccinate your kids in a community with high immunization rates, your children will probably be fine. They’re getting the benefits from your community’s responsible actions.

You Have the Luxury of Not Vaccinating Your Child Because I Vaccinate Mine

The problem comes when you “herd” yourself with other anti-vaccinators. You create a lovely pool for the disease to infect and spread as can be seen in New York City. We live in a global society and measles is still out there because of fear mongering and because OTHER COUNTRIES CAN’T AFFORD THE VACCINE.

And guess what? You’ve not only put your children at risk, but you’ve put those who can’t be vaccinated, as mentioned before, at risk also.

Oh, and one more thing, YOU may be at risk too. Up to five percent of children vaccinated fail to develop immunity and sometimes immunity can wane, but this is usually overcome by giving a second dose of MMR before entering school. However, the second dose policy was not implemented until 1989. Did you get that second dose?

The decision not to vaccinate seems to sprout like a fungus from the false beliefs that 1) vaccines cause autism and 2) that childhood illnesses are no big deal.

1. False Premise: Vaccines cause autism.
A few things first. I understand that scientific papers are hard to slug through. And not all research is created equal. Studies that are observational, do just that, observe what has already happened. These rely heavily on patient reporting.

This is a weaker study than the gold standard, randomized controlled trials, in which the subjects are randomly distributed into groups which are either subjected to the experimental procedure or which do not receive it and serve as controls. In this kind of study, there is less bias and it is easier to weed out coincidences.

Also, published research is not a proclamation of fact. It is a sharing of what has been discovered to advance science. It doesn’t mean it is flawless. “Discoveries” do not come from one paper. Multiple scientists must replicate and advance a finding before a real “Eureka!” moment is reached.

It’s easy to forget this when the press latches onto a concept like “MMR causes autism,” and pukes it from the rooftops to stir panic and fear because that keeps you coming back for more.

All of the MMR vaccine misinformation can be traced back to one paper. The link between this vaccine and autism was proposed by a British physician, Andrew Wakefield, in the Februrary 1998 issue of The Lancet. This finding has never been replicated by any other researchers. More importantly, it was discovered to be manufactured from fraudulent data and has been RETRACTED.

There were only twelve children in the observational study – this means that even if the findings were true, they really only provided a starting point for other research, not for conclusions. However, that hardly matters since the entire causal effect was based on what the parents reported as the length of time from the administration of the vaccine to onset of autism spectrum symptoms AND THAT DATA WAS FALSIFIED. The timelines of the children’s symptoms were misrepresented.

Even more damning was Wakefield’s conflict of interest. How could an article with such a small sample size and the title, Ileal-lymphoid-nodular hyperplasia, non-specific colitis, and pervasive developmental disorder in children, cause such a fervor? Wakefield had an agenda to advance because he was a paid consultant to attorneys representing parents with anti-vaccine lawsuits. The General Medical Council in the U.K. revoked Wakefield’s medical license because of his fraudulent report and unethical behavior.

What is atrocious is that it took until 2010 for that paper to be retracted and for Wakefield to lose his license. For over a decade the fires of misinformation have been fanned and stirred into a bonfire so raging that four years after it should be extinguished it is still smoldering.

And the target of controversy has also shifted. The original autism scapegoat was the MMR vaccine, but the blame game has subtly shifted to focus on the ethylmercury vaccine perservative, thimerosal. This shift was spurred more by activist and political groups than science. Regardless, thimerosal has been removed from vaccines, mostly since 2001.

My heart breaks for the parents who are just looking for answers for their children on the autism spectrum, but I seethe with anger over all of the money that has been diverted from worthwhile autism research to prove over and over again that vaccines are not linked to it. With the combined studies to date, millions of children have been studied and no link has been found.

2. False Premise: Childhood illnesses are no big deal.
In the United States, today’s parents mistakenly think that not vaccinating is the safer choice because they do not remember nor have ever seen the diseases. But these “childhood diseases” aren’t just spotty rashes or coughs. They can cause lasting disabilities and, at times, death. At the very least, they cause weeks of suffering and prolonged time off from work for caregivers. Because these are viral diseases, there is generally no specific treatment once they are contracted.

Here is a crash course on a few, but not all, preventable diseases.

Measles: Worldwide, it remains one of the leading causes of death among young children globally, despite the availability of a safe and effective vaccine. Approximately 122,000 people died from measles in 2012 – mostly children under the age of five. Some of the more serious side effects are blindness and encephalitis.

Mumps: The infections are usually mild but cause painful swelling of the salivary glands. Sometimes there is swelling of the pancreas and testicles (rarely, this can lead to infertility).

Rubella: It’s generally a mild disease in children; but the infection of pregnant women is dangerous because it can cause congenital rubella syndrome (a variety of birth defects) in developing babies.

Pertussis: Also known as whooping cough, it is most severe for young babies. About half of babies younger than 1 year of age who get it end up in the hospital, and a few even die from the disease. It can be pretty serious in adults too. The coughing can be so forceful, it can crack ribs. Pertussis is seeing a resurgence so check with your doctor to see if you need the Tdap vaccine as a booster. You may be due.

Chicken Pox: While the disease is usually mild, it can lead to pneumonia and swelling of the brain. Also, the chicken pox virus “embeds” in your nerve endings. You may get painful shingles infections later in life when the dormant virus re-emerges.

Polio: There was a time that every parent lived in fear of this disease. While it most often produced flu-like symptoms, it could also cause paralysis and death.

(This is not a childhood disease, but it deserves an honorable mention.)

Human Papilloma Virus: This virus causes cervical cancer. The vaccine reduces the risk of CANCER. That is amazing.

My oldest child was born in 1998 and was due for her first MMR vaccination in 1999, right when the hysteria was gaining momentum. My husband and I had her vaccinated. I had read Wakefield’s paper for myself and realized the flaws. Also a well performed study by Brent Miller was already published. He studied 498 children and could not find a link between the MMR vaccine and autism.

Since that time, millions of kids have been studied and no links have been found. Please consider the weight of the evidence produced versus the fraud that was popularized when making decisions for your kids. You’re not just affecting yourself, but the health of the whole community.

Ellen Williams and Erin Dymowski are the dynamic creative duo behind Sisterhood of the Sensible Moms they prove that funny and sensible are not mutually exclusive. Ellen firmly believes in the power of duct tape, kisses, and Google searches to fix most things. She also believes that if you follow Sensible Moms on Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter, you won’t be sorry.

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Stop with the Color-Coded Easter Egg Hunts

April 15, 2014

Slowly but surely my various different social media news feeds are being cluttered with the latest Easter ideas; crafts, baked goods, clothes, etc. I like a good Easter craft or new idea as much as the next person, but today, I saw something I didn’t like. No sir, I didn’t like it one little bit – the color coordinated Easter egg hunt.

The idea is to give each child participating in the hunt one specific color egg to find. Why? So that every child gets the same number of eggs and one kid doesn’t have an overflowing bucket.

My first reaction was that this wasn’t a bad idea. No one likes their kid to be the one with the least eggs, amiright? However, the more I thought about it, the more I didn’t like it. In my opinion it is like soccer leagues who don’t keep score because they don’t want the losing team to be upset. Or dance companies who give all the girls trophies at the end of the year just for participating, regardless of whether or not they suck.

Life is full of disappointments. I don’t want my kids to be disappointed, in fact I go out of my way to try to make sure that I don’t disappoint them by not promising to take them places and do things with them if I know I can’t follow through. I am, however, realistic and know that they will eventually get their feelings hurt and feel let down. Why are we so intent on leveling the playing field for everyone? Why do we feel the need to wrap them up in cotton and shelter them from anything and everything that isn’t sunshine, butterflies and freaking unicorns?

I am not saying that we should all go out and intentionally set our kids up to fail. If your daughter has two left feet, maybe gymnastics isn’t the best thing to enroll her in. If your son has terrible hand-eye coordination, ping pong may not be for him. That said, if they are hell-bent on trying out for the team, let them! Let them figure it out for themselves. You may think you’re protecting them, but you are laying the groundwork for resentment towards you by always telling them no and never letting them try.

I mentioned the coordinated Easter egg hunt to a couple of my kids, who are 9, at dinner tonight. They looked at me like I had two heads.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“The whole fun of it is the excitement of trying to get the most eggs!”

“What about the golden egg? Isn’t there one? Does every kid get one? If that’s the case, there may as well not be one at all because it isn’t special anymore.”

Even the kids think it is ridiculous. They did agree, however, that egg hunts should be separated by age. It isn’t much fun to see a bunch of 10-year-old kids trample a group of 3-year-old toddlers.

Doesn’t healthy competition encourage kids to strive to be better? To practice and put forth effort? If everyone is allowed to win, what’s the point in trying? Why do we bother telling our kids to try their hardest if the ones who don’t try win as well?

*We are raising a generation of self-important children who feel the world owes them something. Take the girl who recently tried to sue her parents. She didn’t want to follow the family rules and moved out, yet still expected her parents to support her financially. Thank god that judge had enough sense about him to realize it would be setting a terrible precedence if he awarded her the child support she was going after.

What about the 300+ kids who illegally entered former NFL player Brian Holloway’s home and destroyed it, documenting the whole thing on Twitter. Over 170 tweets were posted during the course of the night. When Holloway managed to gather roughly 200 of those names and some of the pictures, he started a website identifying the teens. All of a sudden he was being labeled as the bad guy and parents were threatening to sue him. Seriously? If I had been involved in something like that as a teen (I never would, but hypothetically speaking) my parents would have whooped my butt and grounded me for life. I would have been made to go to the house and help clean up and apologize to Mr. Holloway.

Why is it that the last couple of generations have not had to be held accountable for their actions? Don’t like your parent’s rules? Move out and sue them! Don’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night? Go trash some home and then have your parents threaten to sue the owner for calling you out on it! Suck at t-ball? That’s OK, you’re gonna get a trophy anyway!

We need to do our offspring a favor and, while promising not to be outright dicks to them by shooting down everything they want to try, also promise that we will allow them to figure some things out for themselves. Let them fall and pick themselves back up. Allow them to try out for teams, fail, shake it off and either try again or try something new. Hold them accountable for their actions. Teach them that if they do wrong, there will be consequences.

Let’s promise to be there, on the sidelines of life, cheering them on and encouraging them without mollycoddling them and setting them up for false expectations of adulthood and real life.

And for goodness sake, let them collect as many Easter eggs as they can get their grubby little paws on!

I am a mother of 5; 3 by birth, 2 by marriage. I adore them all and they all drive me crazy! Parenthood is no joke. Sometimes I find myself with the same terrifying feeling in the pit of my stomach that I imagine I would have if I was being made to rub lotion on my skin while being held captive in a well. There are good days and bad days but I wouldn’t trade what I have for anything. Except maybe a week alone on a tropical island. I blog at Silence of the Mom.

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When Did I Become a Wooly Mammoth?

April 14, 2014

I walked in my bathroom this morning and a strange man was lurking there. I said, “Sir, who are you and how the hell did you get in my house?”

I was looking at myself in the mirror. I have a mustache.

I can’t exactly pinpoint when I started morphing into a bear, but, it’s happening and I’m worried that I’m now on some sort of grooming hell fast track. Is all of the postpartum hair I lost going to reappear spontaneously and with interest and… not on my head?

I got as close to the mirror as possible to survey my upper lip thinking that Tom Selleck would have been jealous. What I lack in sex appeal, I make up for in impressive lip hair volume. Size does matter ladies, especially when it looks like a family of wooly bear caterpillars colonized on your face.

I was panicked. I stood there, forehead pressed against the mirror going over every inane bit of hair removal advice I had ever heard. I pulled deep into my soul and remembered the hushed whispers of female relatives after dinner and their third Wild Turkey on the rocks.

1. I must NEVER shave it or it will grow back thicker and darker.

2. I must never wax it or I will damage the delicate skin above the lip. I would end up with scars or wrinkles or scurvy.

I can’t remember all the details. I was eight and hiding under a coffee table, ok?

I suddenly realized that my drunk relatives had this all wrong because I have a mustache. ON MY FACE. I think we can all agree that, removal method preferences aside, something must be done. And quickly before I surrender and buy sculpting wax and start auditioning for civil war battle reenactments.

While I played the world’s most frightening game of “What if…” in my mind, I decided to shower. I took off my clothes and… WHAT THE EVER LOVING FOLLICLE was that?

I have hair. On my nipples.

You have got to be kidding me.

How long was I playing the role of Chewbacca in the bedroom and why didn’t my husband ever tell me? I suddenly questioned our entire marriage. If he wasn’t telling me that I looked like Planet of the Apes in a bra, how could I trust him with anything?

Sinking into a pit of desphair (see what I did there?), I knew what had to be done.
Walmart. With my 6 year old.

We stood in the shaving and hair removal aisle while he shouted, “Why do you need to look at so many things in this aisle? You already have razors. What is this thing? What does W-A-X spell? Why does that lady have something on her face? Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?”

I had to get out of there so I bought one of everything. I will probably have to use them all to make a dent.

Sinking even deeper still into my pit of desphair, I knew what had to be done.

The liquor store. With my 6 year old.

Now armed with vodka and enough hair removal products to effectively war against a livid nation of Wildebeest, I am finally ready to tame the mane.

Of the stages of grief, I think I’ve made it to acceptance. Make yourself useful and hand me that weed whacker.

Until next time, this is Bad Parenting Moments hoping you don’t mistake yourself for a male intruder in your own home.

Bethany Thies is a writer and the proud mother to four, young Vikings. She is the author of the blog, Bad Parenting Moments and the chronically unread poetry blog, Room for Cream. She can often be found searching for socks, keys, discount non-perishables and a bathroom lock her children can not pick. Bethany’s work has been published on several parenting sites and, when they’ll have her, in old fashioned black and white in her local, independent newspaper. Her children are unimpressed. You can throw tomatoes at Bethany on Facebook. You can chit-chat with her on Twitter, and, re-pin her barely edible recipes on Pinterest.

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I'm the Problem in My House, Not My Kids

April 13, 2014

I never understood what was the big deal about Sunday mornings. My family goes to church most Sunday mornings, but we don’t kid ourselves into trying to get to the early service at 8:30. Usually, we try to get there for Sunday school which starts at 9:30, and then we stay for worship afterwards. On weekdays, the kids are up by 6:30 and we are out the door by 7:15. It is, admittedly, a mad dash, but we do it. So why is getting to church by 9:30 so hard?

Well, I think we are still in “weekend mode” on Sunday mornings, so we wait until the last possible second to get out of bed. Then, there is much contemplation over what to wear, a great deal of angst surrounding appropriate undergarments and pantyhose/tights, and, lastly, a lot of consideration given to shoes that will coordinate but not be terribly uncomfortable.

Then, I have to go get the children out of bed and dressed.

Eventually, we are rushing out the door and, often, trying to squeeze in a run through some drive through for a very unhealthy breakfast because we didn’t take time to eat breakfast at home. By the time we finally arrive at church, we are stressed out, extremely frazzled, and far from a peaceful, worshipful state of mind.

At least that’s how is used to be . . .

In February, I took on a temporary, part-time job at my church as the Interim Associate for Children’s Ministry. As part of this position, I have to be at church extra early – usually between 8:00-8:30. When I was considering whether to take the job, I hesitated because I knew this would mean leaving my husband to single handedly get our three girls up, dressed, fed, and out the door each Sunday morning. Now, my husband is a great dad, and perfectly capable of this task, but knowing the chaos that typically happened, I felt a little guilty leaving him to deal with it alone. He was confident he could handle it and very supportive of me, so I took the job and here we are.

And, you know what?? Sunday mornings aren’t so bad anymore.

Normally, when I leave on Sunday, my kids are all still sleeping. However, according to my husband and my daughters, their preparation time on Sunday mornings is now MUCH calmer. Apparently, they rise to the occasion – literally – getting out of bed without much protest for him. There is no arguing about clothes because I help them choose their outfits (and mine) on Saturday evenings. Since there is no arguing about clothes, there are more smiles and laughter which always lightens the mood. Their hair is not always perfect (because I am not there to nit pick over it being perfectly coiffed), but they do manage to run a comb through it and then, they are out the door and headed to grab some breakfast (a “tradition” my hubby has instituted).

Last weekend, my hubby had to leave on Saturday for a business trip, which meant the table would be turned on Sunday morning and I would be left to my own devices AND I had to be at church extra early because we had a special schedule. So, my hubby decided we should all have a chat about it. He praised the girls for their cooperation on recent Sunday mornings and pointed out how much more relaxed everything had been. Then he asked, “Why has it been so much better? What are we doing differently?” The girls pondered it, but had no answer. For me, however, the answer was clear as day. The difference is… I ’m not there on Sunday mornings now!

I’m not there frustrated by my own “issues” and, therefore, I’m not spewing that attitude out onto everyone else. I’m not arguing with my girls to make their outfits and their hair just perfect. I’m not there and things are much less chaotic.

I never understood what the big deal was about Sunday mornings, but now I do and I have realized…

It’s not them. It’s me.

Lisa Witherspoon is a SAHM and the Director Of Household Operations in the ‘Spoon’ household. Fueled by coffee and chocolate, Lisa writes about the joys, frustrations, surprises, and chaos of motherhood on her blog, The Golden Spoons. She is also a contributing author to The Mother of All Meltdowns anthology. You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.

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