Today has been one of those days from the start. After a couple of snoozes on my bedside alarm clock, I got up to turn off my phone alarm over on the dresser (does anyone else have to put their alarm across the room?). Standing at the foot of the bed, I considered my options. My hair was too dirty to go one more day without washing; that would have been another 30 minutes of sleep. I could skip my morning workout, but I had skipped yesterday. I literally prayed for God to help me just stay out of bed. And so it went…
“My kids are at the age now where every good thing that happens for them is bittersweet,” I lamented to a friend recently. With three young adult/older teenage children, exciting opportunities abound: college acceptances, semesters abroad, internships in another city…you get the idea. Am I excited about the wonderful opportunities my children have? Of course! Am I a proud mama? You bet! I’m certainly not wishing they were unable or unwilling to do anything but sit on the couch with the remote. As parents, we work hard to help our children grow and mature. We strive to teach them what they need to know, be, and do to be independent; children leaving the nest (hopefully a little at a time) is the end game. Yet every flight away from the nest brings them farther from their Mom, and I don’t mean just geographically.
During our lifetimes, we make a lot of important decisions: Where should I live? Which job offer should I accept? Is he “the one”? Which school should we choose for our child? What is the best way to help my aging parents? I’m so thankful God is patient with me as I process and ponder. I just need to make sure I’m allowing him to guide my exploration, so he can lead me to the choice he has in mind…it may be something I haven’t even considered.
By definition, our pajama day is a day to stay home (usually in our pajamas, of course), relax, and spend time together. The kids are required to stay home, but friends/family are welcome.
Warm apple pie with vanilla ice cream is my favorite. For me, it is traditional and a little nostalgic. When I was growing up in the youth group at my church, our apple pie fundraiser was an annual tradition.
That’s Gonna Leave a Mark
I bent down to his eye level holding his little sister on my hip and asked, “What’s the matter, honey?” He motioned to his face and said, “Do I have lipstick on me?” He didn’t want to go into his preschool world with the mark of one kissed by mom (what with preschooler independence and all)….