And so it begins

When I was pregnant with my first child, the church hosted a baby shower. They passed around a notebook for people to leave wise advise. The one that I remember best said, “Be sure to write down every cute little thing, because you may think you will remember it, but you won’t. Motherhood ZAPS YOUR BRAIN CELLS!”

As my daughter grew, I’d jot down the funny moments. Every once in a while, I’d look back and realize my friend was right. I had forgotten quite a few of the best moments.

Shortly after #3 arrived, I discovered Facebook. It was much more fun to share the funny stories with friends. And so much easier to type them than write them in a tiny notebook! Eventually, people started encouraging me to start a blog. And now, here we are.

Parenting is hard work. Sometimes you feel like you are down in the trenches, or maybe being held under water without a chance to come up for air. It’s a bit easier if you can find the humor hidden in each moment.

We were once talking to our kids about why it is important, if at all possible, for there to be two parents in the household. I said, “You really need someone to help share the burden.” My husband looked shocked and my daughter looked offended. It took me a minute to realize that I had just called her a burden!

I am reminded of a survey whose results indicated that people without kids are happier than those with kids. I couldn’t help but think that the survey takers must have asked the parents how happy they were right after their daughter wrote on the walls with a Sharpie. Or maybe right after their toddler son admitted to throwing away their iPad because “it was old”. Or maybe soon after their girl cut her hair… the day before the big family portrait.

It surely couldn’t have been right after that toddler crawled into bed, snuggled up to his mother, and said, “Mommy, I love you SOOOOoooo much.” It couldn’t have been right after they heard their daughter’s name read off at an award ceremony. Or after their son scored his first goal in soccer. Or when their daughter returned from camp and ran so hard to give them a hug that she nearly knocked them over.

Those are the bright spots – the moments that make all the trench work worthwhile. Actually, some of those infuriating moments are bright spots too, if you can just look at them right. A friend of mine calls that “channeling your inner Erma Bombeck”. That’s what I plan to write about: the bright spots in my brief role as the person shepherding these crazy beings to adulthood. I hope you enjoy the stories.