every parent should hear……

1. You are a hero for your kids. You are. You’re a go-the-distance, fight-the-dragon, face-the-challenges hero for your kids. Taking a beating makes that more true. Not less.

2. We all struggle. Every parent. Everywhere. We all second-guess ourselves. And we all want to quit sometimes. Hold the good times close, and when things are tough, remember, “this, too, shall pass.”

3. Finding the funny may not save your soul, but it will save your sanity. Or maybe it’s the other way around. Either way, look for the humor and embrace the crazy. Laughter is a lifeline.

4. Every day, you will feel like you have mishandled something. Like you’ve been impatient. Like you’ve misjudged. Like you’ve been too harsh. Like you’ve been too lenient. You may be right. Apologize if you need to and then, whatever. Seriously. Just whatever. Let it go.

5. The crazy, the crying, the cuddles. The screaming, the sacred, the scared. The minutes, the magic, the mess. It’s all part of it. And it’s all worth it.

6. Family is the best. Even when it’s not perfect. And it’s never perfect. Ever.

7. At the end of organization, at the end of patience, at the end of perfection, we die to ourselves. And then love rises from the ashes. It sucks. And then it gets better. And then it sucks again. Still, love rises.

8. You will never regret parenting. Except for the teeny, tiny tons of times when you secretly wonder if you maybe regret it just a little. But, overall, never. And overall is what counts in the end.

9. Parenting is like climbing the big mountain. Look for the base camp. That’s where you rest, meet other climbers, take in oxygen and acclimatize. Base camp is what makes summiting possible.

10. You are not alone in this strange, vast, parenting ocean. Even in the dark of night. You are not alone. You’re not.

11. Kids know the way to magical and they’ll give you a free pass to come along. Breathe in the magic as long as you can, because that same kid is going to poop his pants in just a minute.

12. There’s a very fine line between enjoying the chaos and barely surviving. Actually, there’s no line at all. It’s all mixed up together. That “fine line” thing is a lie.

13. If you pay attention, kids will teach you how to laugh loudly, how to love deeply and how to live fully. They will also ruin all your stuff.

14. Any number of kids is a lot of kids.

15. Look for joy. You’ll find it in the middle of the busy. Or under the ridiculous. Or hanging from the overwhelmed in its underpants. Joy’s like that. It’s in the middle of everything. It’s completely unpredictable. And it will surprise you when you’re not expecting it. Like vomit and diarrhea, except good.

16. You will fall apart and do it all wrong. Forgive yourself. Ask your kids to forgive you. Set an example of resilient fallibility. Set an example of practicing the art of love — both loving yourself and loving others. No one does this parenting gig right the first time. Or the last time. Or the times in between. Showing your kids how to keep going after getting it wrong is a wonderful gift to give them.

17. Kids are difficult, gross, confusing and awesome. So are you.

18. Parenting will bring you face-to-face with yourself. It may be terrifying. It may break you. But it will also rebuild you, and you will be stronger than you ever thought possible.

19. Balance is a myth. Parenting isn’t a tight-rope walk; it’s a dance. Strive for rhythm instead of balance, and trust yourself to move to the ever-changing beat.

20. Yes, you will have days where you wonder where the hell the capable and organized you went. Yes, you will sit on the floor of the main aisle at Target by the check-out area with a child who is thrashing, screaming and calling you names. Yes, you will have to tell your child that the dog is not a napkin and to put down the urinal cake. If you do not do all those things literally, then you will do them figuratively. And yes, you will also hold that child and rock back and forth and tell him you love him and tell him he’s safe and tell him you’re not leaving even though he will someday leave you. This is parenting. It is tragic and triumphant. Messy and magical. Sacred and spectacular. And it is, always, fiercely worthwhile. {huffingtonpost.com}

Conversation in the Burse House…

Mom: What is THIS? (points to sign on bedroom door)

Katie: We have passworded (her word) our bedroom, Mom!

….said with eyes above glasses…looking at the way my mother looks at me when she is telling me something i should do, or should have done, or shouldn’t have done at all.

Mom: New rule: until you know how to spell the word “please” and the word “password” maybe we can live without the “keep out” signs….

Katie: Mikayla translated in her sign.

Mom: Fabulous.

Katie: Did you check the mailbox? You have a Passport.

Mom: I do? Wait, the one outside?

….put boots on, go outside, open mail box, return to house….with Passport…

Katie: See.

….as if i should have known. she smiles proudly.

Mom: I’m frustrated.

….hand Katie Passport.

Katie: Let me take that for you.

Mom: I don’t know the password.

Katie: Cupcake. Duh….

the house as been invaded. by the flu. i frequently brag about never getting any ailment other than pregnancy (or the occasional annoying cold), but this time, i was not overlooked. we all went down like dominoes, leaving the abode only to get the basic items for the house or to restock cough drops and Motrin. Christmas, although still a treasure, was spent with Kleenex, steam showers, and scary temp spikes.

tears and sleepless nights, trips to the doctors office, followed up with threats that as soon as i have an ounce of energy, i am going to Lysol and bleach every inch of our house.

i have not touched my computer…barely picked up my phone, and this is the first picture i have taken in 10 days because i felt like my camera was a boulder too big to attempt lifting. work has waited and piled up, and honestly, i just need to let that happen right now while i get my family back on the road to health and sleep and happiness. i am hoping to return to full speed by the end of the week.

i am delieriously excited about the dawn of the new year…excited about the growth of my family (we add baby number 4 in the spring), my business, new projects, and new goals. the new website launches JANUARY 21 (Eeek!), and with it a few special deals for new customers and even better savings for returning customers.

i wish you all love, happiness, success, and enduring joy in the new year, and always. amanda.

this is how my week has gone…low grade fevers, lots of crying, NOT lots of sleeping, trips to doctors

(one included his shots…more fun),

no answers….

finally late last night, the culprit showed itself. a tooth. a sneaky tooth budding through.

all that, for ONE tooth.

3 teeth down, 17 more to go.

my life has gone exactly as she said it would…..so far.

“Oh my….you will live the longest of lives,” she said as she looked deeply, past my skin almost, into my palm.

job requirement for a palm reader i guess.

i laughed and felt silly because it was a silly day kind of day. my best friend Amy and I had escaped small town monotony after earlier than early field hockey practice, called into work, and then we traveled all the way down to Old Orchard beach in her mom’s gray station wagon…a car that took us on all kinds of misadventures. i think there were boys there but i hardly remember them because they didn’t matter. i was in between loving and hating boys after a bad breakup the spring before.

i still love/hate boys. i have a husband, but i also have daughters. if you have daughters….you get it.

“I see two marriages. One short. One long,” she paused. “This guy ain’t it for either of ‘em,” she said as she nodded her frizzy, curled head towards that guy i can barely remember, but i think he was tall…because the guy that had broken my heart was really short and i was boycotting (pun intended) short boys and boys that broke my heart and boys. the bells on her neck jingled in agreement.

Amy and i snorted a half laugh.

“You will have 4 healthy children, but you give your heart away too much,” she looks again towards the boy who must have been tall. “Not to him though….you won’t give it to him”.

awkward….

“And you will be very healthy and sometimes sad because of your heart….but happy a lot too….” her voice trails off in my memory, and if anything else was said, i am sure the tall boy had nothing to do with it.

a few days ago, i was curled up next to Will, laying him down for his nap, and i remembered all that.

and i had just had to write it down.

before i forgot it again.