paying for compliments {how-to instructions}

"Mom, I like you because you are creative, funny and beautiful."

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I will admit that many times I come up with parenting ideas that sound life-changing, but I am only able to implement them for two days before I get lazy and give up.

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"Mom, I like you because you play games with me, and you are nice."

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But this one idea has stuck. And let me tell you, it brightens my morning on a regular basis.

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"Mom, I like you because you are smart."

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I created chore charts for my kids. One of their chores is to give each member of the family a compliment. They also have to hug their mom and dad.

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"Mom, I like you because... because... I love you mom."

**

They each get paid 5 cents per chore. And it's worth every penny.

Here's how I made the chore charts for my kids.
You'll need:


12x12 cardstock

cute printer paper (I bought mine at Jo-Ann's Fabrics)


Self-seal laminating sheets


Print out the words and grid for your chore chart on the decorative paper. Cut the cardstock to the size of the laminating sheets. Center the decorative paper on the cardstock and glue to hold in place.

Use the self-laminating sheets to hold it all together. Put magnet strips on the back if you want to place the chore chart on your refrigerator.

Our charts have the child's name at the top: "Emily's Chores" with clip art of a stick figure to represent that child.

Currently, our chores are:
Clean room
Make bed
Laundry in basket
Set table
(Clear) Dishes from table
Pick up outside
Pick up towels
Hug Mom and Dad
Give compliments
Plus one empty space for an extra chore that rotates each week. These include: Bathroom cleaner, Laundry helper and Kitchen helper.

I have used other chore charts in the past, but I like making my own because I can create new ones if I want to update the chores to fit our family.


Kids can use a dry erase marker to mark off the chores they have completed. I pay them 5 cents per chore at the end of the week. I think the most they could earn is $3 if they did every chore every day.

I started asking my kids to do their chores when they were about 3, but they were really able to do them on their own when they were 4. Would you believe that my kids actually race to do their chores each morning? They even compete to set the table first so they can mark off that chore.

I also have used the same template to make similar charts for homework or other projects.

Do you have a tip that gets your week off to a great start, brings peace to the household or is just an awesome idea? Please share! I would love to hear your ideas to make your home a happier place.

**

This idea works for me! For more great ideas, check out Works for Me Wednesday over at We are THAT Family.

pioneer-less woman

While I was off learning how to be a home school mom this weekend, my husband decided to take the kids to visit his relatives in southern Illinois.

Being the extremely supportive bloggy husband that he is, he had the excellent idea that maybe if he took a bunch of photos of cows while visiting his grandparent's farm, that it would significantly increase my blog traffic.

He's no blogging dummy. He reads Pioneer Woman. And he knows what a few hundred cow photos will do for readership.



So, we thought that if I just interjected some "photos from the ranch" (or at least the small family farm) into my regular writing, it might help.

I'm thinking that my traffic will probably jump at least a thousand fold when you see these photos. (Or, if not, that hopefully none of my current readers will unsubscribe, like someone did a few weeks ago, sending me into a depression for several days.)



So, here is the story of our life.

My name is Em. Welcome to my frontier.


You see, I grew up in a small town in southern Illinois where we spent our weekends dragging Main and hanging out at McDonald's, the only fast food restaurant in town. It was a perfect life, but as I grew older, I went away to college with the hopes of never living there again.

Years later, I started dating a boy from high school. We fell in love. Got married. And moved to the suburbs of Chicago to live our dream. (Actually, we promised to stay there for one year, just until my husband could get a little experience at his job, and then we would run for our lives toward a state with mountains or forests or at least a couple of big hills.) Eleven years later, we are still here.


We now live on a quaint .25 acre plot of land that is identical in size and shape to thousands of neighbors to the north, south, east and west.


We have never had any pets, of any make, shape or model. This is a wonderful tradition that I hope to pass down to future generations.

We do, however, spend a lot of time chasing rabbits away from our flowers and running for cover when we hear the sound of birds. The trees in our subdivision recently grew large enough to attract a squirrel. The kids reacted by saying, "What's that, Mommy?"


We drive a mini-van, which was manufactured by an American car company that is now bankrupt. This probably means we have no chance of getting it serviced in the future when it has one of its tantrums during which the electrical system goes haywire for no apparent reason.


My husband commutes 40 miles to work each day. It's a lovely drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic, which typically takes three hours round trip.


We live in a three-bedroom home, into which we are trying to determine how we will squeeze a family of six and space for home schooling.


My husband is working on a remarkable addition to our swing set, which involved a lot of power tools and many boards and screws. But that's OK. Because we can walk less than .5 miles to two different community parks in either direction.


And yes. My daughter does try to take that pink blankie with her everywhere she goes. I see from the photos that she was quite successful on this trip. Just try to get away with that if you lived on a farm full-time.

(All of these photos were taken on a Canon point-and-shoot camera and not edited in PhotoShop. I do, however, have a copy of PhotoShop and use it on occasion, if that helps in any way.)

Let me just apologize, in advance, to my regular readers if it took a little longer for this page to load due to the dramatic surge in traffic that I'm sure this post will create. A few cows can go a long way.

another piece of the puzzle

Don't you just love it when you have been searching and searching for information and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the thing you need pops up in the most unexpected place?

You probably know by now that I'm not a big believer in luck or coincidence. I mean it when I say that I believe God will put us in the right place at the right time. Or cause someone to bring up something in a casual conversation. Or plop an expert right in front of your face, right when you needed it.

So, you already know that our family has been in a serious struggle the past couple of years to figure out WHY things are so difficult for one of our children. WHY do his brother and sister seem to learn so easily? But concepts that seem simple can be so difficult for HIM?

At the same time, we have wondered WHY is he the only one in the family with severe allergies. Why do his brother and sister love eating fruits and veggies, but he can barely tolerate corn and carrots?

And then a couple of weeks ago, while I was working a Discovery Toys booth at an autism conference, of all places, I stumbled upon a book, which for the first time made a connection in my mind between these two issues.

I had already been on a mission for several years to figure out how to help my child learn. Now, I was on a mission to figure out how his allergies and diet might be a piece of the puzzle.

Little did I know that when my friends convinced me to attend a homeschooling conference I would find more clues in my search.

I really didn't want to go. I still don't really see myself as a homeschool mom. And I was worried about being surrounded by homeschooling cheerleaders all dressed in matching denim jumpers.

But my group of friends are all nice, normal women, who I really like to be around, so I figured worst-case scenario it would give me a chance to wear cute clothes and eat food someone else had cooked. And those two possibilities will get me to go almost anywhere.

I certainly didn't expect that I would be immersed in six hours of in-depth seminars on how to identify my child's learning struggle, how to help him without spending $15,000 on therapy (our current best option) and how allergies, diet and nutrition could be at the root of the whole issue. And yet, that is exactly where I have been for the past two days.

I was searching for someone who would just tell me WHAT. TO. DO. And that is exactly what this woman did over the weekend.

I don't now if she's right. I don't know if her plan will work. And I know many of y'all probably aren't real interested in this topic.

But I just feel like I want to document this journey here on my blog. Because if the things we are going to try DO work, I would love to make some other mom's journey easier and shorter than mine has been. So, in a nutshell (not really, since my son is allergic to nuts), here's what I learned this weekend.

1. Kids who have a learning glitch, or a blocked learning gate, or a dysfunction, dyslexia or dsygraphia... whatever you want to call it, often have an overgrowth of yeast in their system. This comes from taking too many antibiotics when they were little. The yeast is constantly fed and grows through a diet of sugar and bread.

Um, did I mention my child pretty much lives on starchy food? And that he is the only one in the family who gets severe stomach aches when he takes an antibiotic? Yeast overgrowth also exhibits itself in anxiety and eczema. Both of these have always been a struggle for one child only.

2. Next, I learned that the brain is 60 percent fat, and the fat it needs is found in Essential Fatty Acids. Because so many of our fats now are broken down and hydrogenated, the only place to get Essential Fatty Acids is through mother's milk and fish oil. Well, unfortunately, this mom hates seafood. So, I don't ever serve my family fish. Ever.

When she said these kids crave butter, have dry skin and eczema, plus sensory issues, I was suspicious. Then, she mentioned that their hair is so dry that it sticks up in back. How many times have we teased our son because his hair sticks straight up after he washes it?

This speaker said that giving Omega-3 supplements to increase Essential Fatty Acids will give the brain more of the fat it needs to focus and learn, plus it creates serotonin, which helps with moodiness and depression.

3. Finally, the allergies. If a kid's system is full of histamines, it blocks his ability to learn. I know how bad I feel in the spring when my outdoor allergies kick in. But my child exhibits these symptoms almost every day of his life. So, we need to make some diet changes to eliminate more offending agents than just nuts and peanuts.

I hope to fill you in as we proceed on this journey. I'm just excited to have some new avenues to try, and I don't have to spend thousands more in doctor bills and therapy to get started.

If you have any experience with any of the things I have mentioned, I would love to hear your stories!



If you liked this post, you might also want to read:

the power of hope
autism and vaccines
allergies, asthma, adhd and autism

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jayda

A few years ago, I was sitting around thinking about our non-existent fourth child as I have done many times during the past few years.

I was trying to decide what the child's name would be if he or she ever came to be part of our family. I had always liked the name Jade, but our last name is a four-letter, one syllable name, too, so that didn't seem to flow.

"Jayda!" I thought.

It's unique. It's cool. And my daughter's name has an AY in the middle, so the names would kind of go together.

I shared the news with my husband.

"If we ever have a fourth child and it's a girl, her name will be Jayda."

He thought it sounded good. And since he didn't think there was any chance that we really would ever have a fourth child, it worked perfectly well for him. Case closed.

Many times over the past few years, we have talked about Jayda. Sometimes, it has been in a joking manner. Other times, my husband had the job of consoling me over the fact that she didn't actually exist. He also was quick to remind me that IF we ever had another child, by some totally unforeseen series of events, that the child just MIGHT be a boy.

And I was fine with that. It wasn't that I knew the child WOULD be a girl, but Jayda was just the code word we used to talk about our non-existent family member.

We have mentioned this name so many times, that when I say it now, I sometimes question if it's even really a name.

It sort of falls in line with Janna, Kalixa, Julia and Jacob. Those are my daughter's imaginary family members who are a part of our daily conversations, as well.

"Janna told me..." she is always quick to interject if she disagrees with whatever point someone is trying to make. "When I was at Julia's house, that's not what SHE did."

A few weeks ago, when we were at my son's karate testing, the sensai was calling off the names of each of the children who were about to compete. "Jayda!" he said, pointing to a tiny girl on the front row with a long black pony tail.

My husband and I both looked at each other. "Did he say, 'Jayda'?!" We had never heard of anyone in real life with that name, other than the actress Jada Pinkett Smith. The sensai repeated the name, and we both stared at each other with wide eyes. "It's Jayda! There she is!"

When it was time for the kids to start their kata, Jayda didn't move.

As the sensai called out the numbers of the kata, the kids were supposed to do the corresponding moves. However, in class, they were told that they would have to perform the kata without hearing the numbers.

Because these kids were so young, they were only required to perform nine of the 21 moves. And I guess the sensai decided to make it really easy by shouting the numbers.

"Oh no! Jayda forgot her kata!" we said, watching her stand there lifelessly. "Come on... you can do it!"

The other kids were on about number four, when Jayda started to move. She flawlessly executed all 21 moves without stopping or making a mistake. It was as if no one else was even in the room. She did her whole kata perfectly.

"She did it!" we both shouted. "Way to go, Jayda!"

I was so proud of that little girl that tears were welling up in my eyes. Sweet Jayda.

I don't know if we will really name our baby Jayda (if it's a girl), but when I stumble upon one of those baby name finder sites, I always check for the popularity of Jayda, Jada, Jade, and the boy versions, Jadon, Jayden, Jaydan, etc. And then I look up the meaning.

They are all a variation of Jade, meaning a green stone.

But this week, one of those sites also gave the Hebrew meaning, which I thought was so cool: "He knew".

Oh, yes. He did.

advanced maternal age

If you are visiting for the first time or haven't been here for a while, you might want to click here to get caught up.

For the first few weeks after I found out I was pregnant, I spent a little too much time obsessing about my "advanced maternal age". You know how the Internet can be. It's a wealth of information, but sometimes it's full of so many warnings and horror stories that it can start messing with your mind.

I remember reading one of the more reassuring articles that I had found online, which explained that many women are now starting families at the age of 40. A woman's 40s are the new 20s, the story said.

But then I got to the last line of that article. It said something like this: "Having a baby in your 40s is safer than once thought; but it's not recommended."

Not recommended? It's not like I'm trying to decide whether to bounce on a trampoline with my shoes on our ride a bike without a helmet. The deal is sealed, whether it's recommended or not.

Thanks, anyway.

Those first few weeks, my mind was constantly trying to think of examples of people I knew in real life who had given birth in their 40s.

Wasn't So-And-So's sister-in-law 45 when she had her first child? And then there's Kathy. I'm pretty sure she was 40. My friend from high school is pregnant and she's almost 40. Oh, and then there's that guy my husband knows. They are trying to get pregnant for the first time, and they are probably getting close to 40.

In the evenings, I would shout out to my husband between bowls of ice cream and plates of scrambled eggs: "Honey! Remember your Aunt So-And-So?!? How old do you think she was when she had cousin Sally?!"

He would get out his family history book and we would use birth dates to determine the maternal age of all of the nice, respectable, attractive family members who had been born to a mother in her 40s.

Then he would remind me: "You were 39 when you got pregnant. So, you were in your 30s!"

Several times, I went back and read this post by Antique Mommy. I had remembered reading it a few months earlier. It seemed really sweet at the time. But it was like a comfy blanket to me now. I could wrap those words around my mind and warm myself in their assuring tone.

About a month later, I finally told the women in my Bible study that I was pregnant. This was only the second time I had said the words out loud (other than telling my husband). I was so full of emotion, that a floodgate burst open, and I started crying hysterically.

Those poor sweet women. It's one thing to see someone with tears in her eyes. But when someone breaks down into a full-blown blubbering cry, it's a little unsettling, I'm sure.

After my wailing grew quiet enough that anyone could hear herself speak, two of the women reassured me that they were 40 when they had their youngest. One of the women has five beautiful children, and the other woman's daughter was also in our study. Her incredible daughter is 40 now herself.

Another friend told me her mother had her eighth child when she was 40. I was on Facebook later that week and saw a picture of my friend's sister, the one her mother had when she was 40.

"She's soooo beautiful," I thought, as yet again, I cried. "What if she had not been born?"

Thank you, God, for your kindness to me. Thank you for surrounding me that day with these women who knew what I was going through. And for sending reassurance that it would be OK.

After that, I stopped reading articles on the Internet about advanced maternal age. But if you know of any great stories of people born to a 40-year-old mom, they always make me smile!

steel-her heart

I thought that after that bombshell I dropped on y'all yesterday, that maybe today would be a good day to write about nail polish.

But if you did miss yesterday's post, it might be a good idea to go get caught up. Otherwise, you're going to be a little confused when I bring up weird stuff like why I'm eating a chicken pot pie at 9:30 p.m. Which I am. And it is so good.

Nail polish.

OK, it's sad to say, but until about five years ago, I had never even stepped foot inside a spa. Never had a massage. Or a pedicure. Definitely no manicures for me. I grew up in a small town where we went to the beauty parlor to get our hair cut and permed. And that was it.

About five years ago, my sales director with Discovery Toys invited me to hang out at a spa for a day with her and a bunch of other leaders as a Christmas gift. I was a little apprehensive at first, but after a few hours, I was hooked. Eating snacks all day. Chatting with friends. And getting spa treatments.

Hello, dear Day Spa? Where have you been all my life?

A few years later, I promoted to Sales Director, too, and started hosting spa days for the ladies I worked with. I even earned the amazing reward a few years ago of flying on a private jet to an exclusive spa in California to be pampered for three days.


I went from never-had-a-pedicure to Little Miss addicted to mud wraps, hot stone massages, chocolate scrubs and paraffin wax treatments.

But still, I see going to the spa as purely a social experience. I don't ever go by myself. I love hanging out and getting pedicures with friends.

I love a pedicure, but for the most part, I paint my nails myself. Which finally brings me to the point of this post... nail COLOR!

I love seeing how different people choose completely different colors of nail polish. What does your color choice say about you?


My friend with the sweet, quiet spirit chose the lightest color of pink on the shelf. The girl with the great tan and fun-loving attitude picked out a bright shade of coral.

In that photo, my toes were about as bright as they get in that shade of purple at the very bottom. I tend to go toward the darker hues.

What does that say about me? I like to think it means I'm creative and want to push the envelope a bit. But darker colors also seem to go better with my skin tone and match my wardrobe, which is made up entirely of black, brown, green and purple, with a little blue here and there.


I am loving my new nail polish color that I picked up for $4.99 at Target. It's called Steel-her heart by Revlon. It's a swirly metalic shade of steely grey. Depending on the light, it can look silver, grey or purple. So, it pretty much goes with all of my clothes.

It looks awesome with dressy sandals and just as good with black flip-flops. A girl should not love a nail polish color this much. It's just weird.



I think it might even replace My Private Jet by OPI as my favorite nail color. This one looks really dark in the bottle. But when you get in the sunlight, it has flecks in the polish that make it look purple or grey.

Don't worry, My Private Jet. I still love you even though the salon said you are discontinued. If I could find a case, I would buy you to keep on hand for future generations.

So, what about you? Are you a spa addict or never had a pedicure? Do you feel naked without your toes painted? And what does your color say about you?

I really DO want to know!

if you read nothing else, you might want to read this one

Have you ever had a time in your life during which everything seemed to be falling apart?

Nothing was working out as you thought it would? And then you realized later that things weren't falling apart at all, but actually falling into place?

That has sort of been the story of my life this year. It's been a few months of the unexpected. And I have debated how much of it to share here on the blog. But it's gotten to the point now that it's hard to write about day-to-day stuff without filling you in on the bigger picture.

For those of you who are around me in real life, you know many of the facts of this story. I hope you will read it anyway.

It's always a little scary to get too personal here since you really don't know WHO might be reading at any time. And once you put something out there, it's OUT THERE.

But I have some things that I really need to tell you. I have a million funny stories I've had to hold back, so I'm ready to just lay it all out.

So, hold on.

I apologize in advance that it's the longest post in the history of the universe. I have edited this post a hundred times over the last six weeks, but I just can't tell you this story without telling the whole story. I promise, you will want to read to the end.

It might be a little more serious than usual. I hope you'll stick with it anyway.

Here we go!

**

This year has felt really odd to me right from the start.

When January rolled around, instead of plotting out all of my goals for the year, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do.

I just sat. And prayed. And asked God, "Isn't there more than this? What should I be doing with my time this year?"

I was really excited about a Bible study that I would be starting in a few weeks with a group of women from my church.

We were doing a study called, "Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman."

I was excited about starting this study because the theme of this book of the Bible seemed to hit me right where I was at in life.

For such a time as this.

If you don't know much about it, Esther was the quintessential example of being in the right place at the right time. Actually, she was right where God needed her to be at exactly His perfect time.

Adopted by her uncle, Esther won a beauty contest to become the queen of Persia. Thrown into this place of power, she was able to save her people, the Jews, from annihilation. She was right where she needed to be for such a time as this.

Well, my life certainly wasn't at such an extreme turning point as Esther's. But I felt that I was reaching a crossroads. And I was asking God why he had placed me here, now, and which direction I should go. I was praying that during the study, the path would become clear.

**

During the past eight years of being a mom, I felt like I had become an expert at juggling.

With three kids each born less than two years apart, I have balanced and organized and created systems to make things work. I have run a successful business out of my home during naps and room time and Barney and puzzles.

But finally, the path in front of me was starting to look wide and clear.

Both boys would be in school all day in the fall. And my daughter, who has been hanging out with Mom this year, would be starting three-day preschool. I could only imagine those hours of 9 to 11:30 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

That would give me 7.5 hours a week for me. Me. Me. Me.

Imagine, 7.5 hours that were all mine. MINE!

But what exactly should I be doing with that time?

Move ahead with my business? Focus more time on ministry at church? Pursue some other dreams, like publishing my everydayMOM planner? Or try something new?

With my 40th birthday approaching, it almost seemed symbolic. A new decade. New opportunities. New goals.

For such a time as this.

But little did I know that wasn't all that was happening in my life...

**

Many of you were here with me when I started the countdown to my 40th birthday. Oh, that beautiful 40 days of 40.

I realize that numbers aren't that big of a deal to a lot of people. But for me, my milestone birthday seemed symbolic in so many ways. A fresh start. A chance to try something new.

And I was staring at those 7.5 hours of free time with great anticipation.

Then, in early March things started to change. You might have gathered from some of my previous posts that one of my children has some struggles in school.

We have been to all sorts of specialists looking for direction. To say it's been a confusing journey with lots of conflicting information would be an understatement.

What I had assumed to be a given for the next school year was suddenly in doubt. My modus operandi at this point would typically be to start spinning in a mad fury to find another solution. But this time, I felt an immense sense of peace.

Wait. Just wait.

God had a plan for my son. And even though the path looked cloudy and full of obstacles, we would find a way. And that way would. be. good.

To make a very long story short, we are considering the idea of homeschooling. This, in and of itself, is a minor miracle. I'm not sure who was more repulsed by the idea in the past. Me or my kids? I have never wanted to be a teacher. I don't like to teach. I would rather do anything than try to be a teacher. And I would like my kids to have a teacher who isn't ME!

But as we have delved further into the issues we face, it seemed to become more and more clear that perhaps the best person for this job is actually the last person I would expect. Me.

**

Umm. But maybe you forgot about my 7.5 hours? My time to pursue my dreams? My. My. My. Me?

A homeschool mom? Ugh. Not exactly what I had planned for my glorious 7.5 hours of weekly freedom!

But I was starting to warm up to the idea. Not that I could envision wonderful lesson plans and creative learning strategies. But I could imagine a child who wasn't frustrated with trying to keep up with his class. A kid who had time in his day to focus on the areas that were holding him back. And an 8-year-old who had time to play. Who wasn't stressed. Or crying.

And that was starting to motivate me.

Oh, but there's more...

**

Let me go back and tell you about something else that was happening during this time.

As much as I try not to mention this in every conversation, many people know that for the past two or three years I have been a little obsessed with the idea that someone is missing from our family.

Yes, missing.

It's like there's a hole in my heart. The hole of a fourth child.

I want to cry every time my daughter brings a new imaginary sibling into the family. I was afraid to let my husband give away the crib and the strollers. I often think that we have deprived someone of life. And I think about it ... a lot.

So, as I approached my 40th birthday, the pain of this obsession increased. My husband and I had already ruled out the possibility of me giving birth to another child, and once I passed that 40th threshold, it just seemed that the door would be slammed shut.

I started talking to my husband about adoption. But the expense and time involved seemed overwhelming.

I did my best to stop obsessing about this longing, but it was getting worse.

I knew I had to give it to God. It seemed to me that if my heart was wanting something so badly, that perhaps He put that desire there to begin with. And if He did, then He could show us how it would come to be. Or he could take it away.

I decided it was up to Him. I had no answer. My husband had no answer for me.

But just as I was starting to celebrate my 40 days of 40, God was giving us an answer. We just didn't know it yet...

**

It was April 6. I needed to make a doctor's appointment.

I knew that the doctor would ask me if there was any way that I could be pregnant. I knew the answer was no. But I really couldn't explain some mysterious symptoms I was having.

Fine. I'm just going to prove this to myself. I don't know WHAT is happening, but it can't be THAT!

I waited for the biggest waste of $10 on the planet to reveal the information I already knew perfectly well. There was no way.

But something wasn't quite right. Why was that dim pink line starting to form? That will go away in a minute.

Wait. I better re-read the directions. I thought it said the second line was the control. Not the first.

Maybe it's upside down.

Hang on. The second line is pink now, too.

For. such. a. time. as. THIS?!?

**

I started to cry. I was overwhelmed by panic. Then fear. Then shock.

And then a calm washed over me. I had a moment of complete clarity: For some reason, God in heaven stopped what he was doing and reached down and gave me a gift. I prayed. He listened. He answered.

Trust Him.

There are so many worries that try to pop in my mind. I have grown to hate the three words, "advanced maternal age" and all they represent.

But I am blessed. God has given me a gift. He has given our family a gift. And he knows exactly what gift we need most.

One of the biggest lessons we learned during our Esther study was about THE HOW? We aren't responsible for THE HOW. God will take care of THE HOW.

When I'm looking at a situation thinking HOW will I ever get through this one, there's one simple answer. He is there with me. He will get me through it.

**

I have been waking up every morning for the last few months wondering if this is a dream.

Then, the nausea and fatigue set in and I come back to life. It's real. It's crazy. It's not what I expected. It's a gift.

I was at a crossroads five months ago when I started asking God which direction I should turn. A detour popped up along the path. It wasn't the wide, open road that looked so sunny and easy to travel. But, as a friend mentioned during our study, sometimes you realize that the detour IS the path.

It could be a crazy ride.

Homeschooling three kids.

A newborn in the family.

I definitely won't be worrying about what to do with my 7.5 hours of freedom.

It's not the gift I expected for my 40th birthday.

But I couldn't be more thankful.




Related posts you might like:
the midwife
jayda
advanced maternal age