I am a mom of three kids. Back when I dreamed of being a mom of three kids- well, technically I dreamed about being a mom of twelve kids, but then I had one, went for two, and decided three was a good place to stop... but anyway, back when I dreamed of being a mom, I dreamed of a busy, busy world full of chocolate chip cookies and ice cold milk. My kids would love me and hug me and wish me a daily farewell with a kiss on the cheek. They would seek me out for advice and listen intently to my stories and write about me in school essays. In short, I would be the center of their world.
You can stop laughing now.
You know, for a while, that's not too far off from how it was. With the exception of the My Mom Is My Hero essay, I do believe that for quite some time I was nothing short of Supermom to my kids. I knew the dream was coming to an end, however, when one particular day the standard kiss-on-the-cheek goodbye was masterfully avoided by one of my little sweet ones. Since that time, it's been nothing but downhill and just the way it should be. I'm no longer the primary cookie baker and I can't keep enough milk in the house to offer it ice cold. While I'm pretty confident I am loved and hugs really aren't that rare, I don't know if my advice is really adhered to or merely endured. And my stories? Well, I think somewhere along the way they stopped listening.
Hence, the birth of this blog.
Twelve kids? I also wanted to marry my high school sweetheart and live in the Northwest.
I've never really been good with setting goals and following through.
For my husband of might-as-well-say twenty years,
My three teenagers who do not to shrink from my hugs,
And my newly adopted southern home,
Some of the best-laid plans really aren't the best plans at all.
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