Tag Archives: mommy

Make Life Hard



I stumbled across this kernel of wisdom while reading one of my daily devotionals from David Jeremiah.  Sometimes it’s the scripture verse he references or the message he offers that speaks to me. But sometimes, it’s the quote at the bottom of the page that leaves the biggest impact.

This one made me think. About my own kids and what kind of life I offer them. About other kids I know and the life they live. It’s all about perspective.

I started this blog as a way to support other Mommies who find it hard to, well. . . .be a mommy! I’m not a natural. I find it easier to nurture my cats. I love my kids. But my kids aren’t my life. There is so much more to me as a person than “mommy”.

I know there are other moms out there who feel the same way. And you probably struggle with the same sense of guilt that I do. (If not. . . .well, aren’t you special?)  There are plenty of times I know I could’ve been kinder, gentler, softer, more patient, more understanding, etc. I have plenty of regrets. I’ve told them I’m sorry and asked for forgiveness. Thankfully, my kids still wake up every morning loving me.

However, reading this statement eased some of that guilt. I’m hard on my kids. I have big expectations for them. I know what they’re capable of, especially when they fall short. I don’t let them off the hook easily or give in to tears. I’ve told them to “Suck it up!” or “Cowboy up!” or “Deal with it!” so many times I should be paid for it.

Why am I hard on my kids?

Because the real world is hard!

I refuse to raise kids who will go out into the world expecting it to bend to their wishes and whims, to give in when they whine, or give them a pass when they’re too tired. IT WON’T HAPPEN!

I want them prepared to face the truth that it’s going to be hard.
That they will get their feelings hurt.
That they will have to put their time and energy into things they may not want to do.
That they will not get rewarded for effort, but results.
That they will have to budget to pay rent and grocery bills before anything fun.
That no one will be motivating them but themselves.

So, when my eight-year-old tells me she’s too tired to get a shower before bed, I tell her, “Tough. Do it anyway.”
Or when she doesn’t want to brush her teeth, I tell her, “You can pay for your own dentures.”
Or when she “borrows” money from grandma to buy something, I make sure she pays it back.
Those nights when she complains about the “horrible” food that I cook – (I can cook, by the way. I just don’t like to.) – I remind her of the two little girls we sponsor in Africa who would be happy to eat my horrible meal. And then I offer to send her there and bring them here.

On the days when they fight, when they whine constantly, when they’re too bored because they don’t have anything to do, when they complain that there’s nothing good to eat – I’m honest with them. I tell them I don’t like their attitudes and I don’t want to be around them. I’ve told them I need a vacation from them and threatened to leave them home alone with Daddy. (The horror!)

I will not pander to their every whim, I will not reward them for trying, I will not give them a pass when they break a rule or give their word.

I will make life hard for my kids now because it will continue to be hard for them.

My hope in being hard is that:

  • It teaches them right from wrong.
  • It teaches them how to think for themselves.
  • It teaches them responsibility.
  • It teaches them integrity.
  • It teaches them how to persevere.
  • It teaches them to be thankful and content with what they have.

Don’t misunderstand me – I don’t condone any kind of abuse. That’s TOTALLY different. And I also don’t want to raise children who are cold-hearted scrooges.

I want to produce two adult women who know how to take care of themselves and expect nothing from anyone. I want two women who can be relied upon for their upstanding character and hard work. Most of all, I want two women who understand how hard life is – and are willing to find ways to make it easier for others.

That’s why we sponsor two little girls from Africa – to show my kids what a “hard life” truly is. They learn compassion by making that hard life easier. They also learn to be thankful for how rich we are – even if we aren’t “rich”.

That’s why they are aware of and (to a small extent) helped in the creation of a local program, Panther Packs. It sends food home on the weekend with at-risk elementary school children who may not otherwise have a meal. My kids learn that hunger exists in their own community – with their classmates. And they learn that Mommy’s food isn’t so horrible after all.

I make life hard for my kids now so when it truly gets hard, they aren’t too soft to handle it.





How to be the Non-Perfect Mommy


It’s one thing for me to tell you all that I’m crazy.

It’s another thing entirely to have people witness it in real time.

There’s an unwritten rule where I work that goes something like this – never put your words into writing, then they can’t come back to bite you.  Once you write it down, there is proof that you said it.  Otherwise, it’s simply your word against someone else’s.

While that may be true, watching my craziness in action will take that to a whole different level.  It’s more like a spectator sport – so much more exciting to watch in person than to read about online or in the paper.  You can see the play-by-play as it happens!

I want to offer congratulations to my extended family for getting to witness my craziness first-hand this past weekend.  Or maybe I should give my apologies instead. . . .

My father belongs to a hunting cabin in the remote Pennsylvania mountain town of Renovo.  For as long as I can remember we made a weekend trip every year during the summer with my Dad’s cousin and his kids.  Up until I graduated high school, we were like one big family.  Those kids were like my siblings, their parents like my second set.

Once we “kids” became adults, those trips fell by the wayside and for many years, I barely spoke to any of them.  However, since the birth of our own children, the families have begun seeing more of each other and spending more time together.  We’ve managed to spend a weekend at the cabin together for the past three summers.

While it’s been fun to see them again, it’s a whole new ball game when I’ve got two small children to run after.  This year we traveled with a 5 year old, a 4 year old and a 20 month old.  The four and five year old play well together and are mostly self sufficient.  Despite the constant running and shrieking and occasional arguments over the proper way to play with a tractor  :-p , having them along is a great way to remember the good times I had as a kid.

However, my “baby” is the kink in this idyllic little tale.  She’s smart as a whip and wants to do everything her big sister does.  She’s pretty good at keeping up, for the most part.  It’s the times when you need to tell her no that the stuff hits the fan.

She throws world-class temper-tantrums, can yell loud enough to make you wince, and isn’t afraid to ignore or defy your instructions.  My family got to see all this in 3-D this weekend.  They had a good laugh when she started climbing the stairs to the second floor and I told her I would count to three before I spanked her butt.  I got to two and she promptly turned to look at me, saying, “Three. . . four. . .” and then kept on climbing.  All with a smile.


I have to admit, I laughed too, but she still got her rear end spanked.

It wasn’t this one little incident that sent me over the edge.  It was two days filled with these kinds of incidents and the feeling that I need to constantly be hovering over or following her to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself or do something gross, like lick the toilets! While I love my kids, I also love to sit down every now and then.

The “Monster Mommy” persona took over as we were getting ready to leave Sunday.  I managed to keep my cool (for the most part) all weekend, even through the repacking of our bags and the car.  My family so graciously kept an eye on the children while my husband and I made countless trips out to the car (in the rain!) to pack up our stuff.  It was that moment when we were done and I had the silly thought to sit down for a minute that I heard this:  “Okay, kids, let’s go out.  No playing in the bathroom.”

My ears instantly perked up and I scanned the room, watching my cousin emerge from the bathroom with my five-year-old in tow. My youngest was nowhere to be found and I knew immediately that she was still in the bathroom, most likely licking the toilets.

One would think that after spending the weekend with her, my family would have realized you can’t just tell Ella something and expect her to do it.  No, you have to watch her, repeat yourself, and then drag her away kicking and screaming.

So, I marched over to the bathroom, praying I wouldn’t see what I knew I would.  Sure enough, there she stood, reaching into the toilet bowl.

I lost it.  Who exactly I was mad at, I’m not sure.  Ella, for one, because she’s got to get into EVERYTHING!  My cousin, for walking away and leaving her unattended in the bathroom.  Myself, for being a bad mom and not keeping better track of my kids.

Doesn’t matter.  I yelled at Ella, snatched her up and made a beeline for some soap to wash all the icky potty germs from her hands before she stuck them in her mouth.  Because you know she would!

This was accompanied by some grumblings to anyone who could hear me that it is NOT acceptable to leave Ella unattended, especially in a bathroom!

I got some funny looks, mostly of the kind that said, “Why are you acting like a nut job?”


Because my kids drive me nuts!  Because I’ve spent the last five and a half years doing nothing but cleaning up messes and doling out instructions only to be ignored by my children.

I don’t enjoy cleaning.  I don’t enjoy repeating myself endlessly.  I don’t enjoy being ignored.


Of course, by the time I got home, I felt like the bad guy because I had lost my temper.  I feel like they all looked at me like I was a terrible mother and they were thankful we were going home because they didn’t want to put up with me any longer.

I get that feeling a lot, like I’m a failure at being a Mom.

You know what?  Screw that!

The bottom line is, I am who I am.  I bring certain strengths and weaknesses to the table and they are going to be different than everyone else’s.   I reach the end of my limits much sooner than some people do and I expect more of my extremely intelligent children than other’s do.

I used to be that person who judged other Moms – thinking how they just needed to do things this way or that, that they just needed to have more patience or give more hugs.

Then I had kids.

I challenge anyone to spend twenty-four hours with my kids.  Then, if you want to tell me how to be a mother, go right ahead.

My point for all you other Moms out there who struggle with the image of being a “good mommy” – God made you to be exactly who you are and he doesn’t want you to be anyone else.

He knows our weaknesses, because he gave them to us.  It’s when we embrace them and ask Him to use us anyway that we’re set free.

One of my biggest weaknesses is impatience.  Ask anyone who’s ever met me.

Another is my temper.  I have a short fuse and my kids are pros at lighting it.

That’s why when I rock my baby to sleep at night, my prayers usually go something like this – “Lord, please don’t let me screw my kids up.  Help them to understand that I’m trying and that I love them.”

No one is perfect, so don’t think you need to be.  Know you’re weaknesses, but don’t be defeated by them.  Own up to them, but don’t be judged by them.

You’ve got plenty of strengths too.  God can and will use them both.

To my family – I’m sorry you had to witness Monster Mommy.  I’m not sorry for who I am.  Hopefully you’ll love me anyway.

Happy Day-After Mother’s Day


I’m a little late to say a genuine Happy Mother’s Day.  Forgive me . . .I was in the car for 11 hours over the weekend, coming home from a blissful vacation in the Outer Banks.

We decided to break the trip into two days since the idea of a nine hour trip in one day didn’t sound appealing.  We did that on the way down, none of us had the desire to do it on the way back.  My husband and I thought it would be easier, make the trip home a bit more enjoyable.

WHOA BOY!  Let me tell you about the first half of the trip:

5 hours turned into 7 hours.

We hit rain in Norfolk while we sat in a 6.5 mile backup outside the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel – and I’m not talking a Spring shower.  I’m talking black skies, lightning, and rain so heavy the windshield wipers couldn’t keep up.

Once we cleared the tunnel we ended up sitting in traffic AGAIN to clear an accident scene – which my husband and I both cringed over when we passed it.  I sent prayers to Heaven because it was one of those that made you sure someone had died.

When traffic started to back up again we decided to take a break and stop for dinner.  We gassed up our bellies and our car, then hit the road.  I mistakenly thought it would be smooth sailing until we hit yet MORE TRAFFIC due to ANOTHER ACCIDENT!

By now my 18 month-old has decided to start screaming in the back seat – so much so and for so long that she vomits on herself.  YAY!  Finally, my husband whips out the Veggie Tales DVDs and this seems to appease her for a while.

When we passed a digital road sign warning us of yet ANOTHER accident 9 miles ahead I thought for sure God had it in for me.  This was the Praxis of all tests of patience and I was quickly losing the desire to pass!  Thankfully, we made a detour off 95 to a smaller road and made it to our hotel seconds before my daughter decided to have another melt down.

With a mediocre night’s sleep and breakfast in our bellies we hit the road again the next morning – and thankfully Sunday’s trip was sunny and peaceful.

I didn’t get any Mother’s Day presents – other than a hug and kiss from my 5-year-old.   It didn’t really faze me as I’d been on the road for so long that the only present I wanted was to be out of the car!  Honestly, for most of the day, I forgot it was even Mother’s Day.  That was until my daughter decided to poop her pants mere minutes after we pulled onto the highway from a stop at Sheetz.

Really?  You couldn’t have done this five minutes ago?

So, once we were sure she was finished, we pulled into a McDonald’s parking lot and did a quick change-a-roo in the front seat.  It was as I attempted to put a clean diaper on the baby’s behind that the man who had parked next to us emerged from the restaurant.  He took one look at what was happening, gave me a grin, and quickly offered a “Happy Mother’s Day!”

The moment caught me so off-guard that I had to laugh as I said thank-you.  The longer I thought about it though, the more I felt like it was the first genuine Mother’s Day greeting I’ve ever gotten.

Sure, the cards and flowers and presents are nice.  But that’s not what Mother’s Day is about.  Being a Mom is about the nitty-gritty, dirty, INSANE work of raising children.  It’s about changing diapers in McDonald’s parking lots and listening to your child scream for an hour straight while you drive through a rain storm.  It’s about buying them toys instead of getting yourself a new wine glass, feeding them first while your food gets cold, waking up at the crack of dawn EVERY MORNING on vacation. . . . and all that other stuff that equals sacrifice and putting yourself last.

It’s hard, thankless, and – a lot of times – unappreciated work.  It’s enough to drive anyone nuts.  Especially me.

But at the end of the day, it’s about giving of yourself to another human being – one that you created.  It’s about all the kisses and squeezes and smiles and laughs that take the edge off the urge to go crazy.

So, to you sir, whoever you were, thank you for the genuine reminder of what Mother’s Day is really about and for taking the time to say it while I stood in the middle of the dirty work.  I really appreciated it!