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squirrel

The End of the End: Attack of the Four Foot Squirrels

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squirrel6
Bro 1
squirrel5
Bro2
squirrel3
Bro 3

–WARNING:– *Actual* Footage of the bros this last week of school

The squirrel is so real up in here this week. This is what they’ve been like in the afternoon/evening and I can only imagine what those poor teachers are going through. Teachers… I see you. I yelled at those bros last night. And you’d better yell at them at school, if for nothing else to make me feel better about yelling.

I mean, I full on opened the door and screamed at them (for the 3rd time) to come in for all the neighborhood to hear. Neighbors… you know the situation over here. Just go on chewing your steak and say a prayer for the crazy lady and her end-of-school year rodent demolition crew.

On a personal note, I’m finishing up a steroid regimen for my auto-immune disease. So you throw in end-of-school plus a steroids taper and mommy the rager is dragging her knuckles around the house ready to pounce on all the squirrels and eat them for dinner.

Overheard yesterday while breathing fire through my nose:

“Boys, play with your sister. Make her happy. If not, there won’t be any dinner.”

And at least 2/3 of the boys are motivated by their stomachs. Surprisingly enough, my third boy, though easily the thickest and strongest is much less food motivated. But he also has the strongest will. Bless him. What a little unicorn.

And God bless this year. And I do really mean that. Because He is with us in the hard times. And “good” and “hard” are not mutually exclusive.

I want to document the beginning of this year because I never EVER want to forget the pain and tied directly to that, how much God brought me though and our family through.

Those of us with school-aged kids were all spinning in our heads thinking about what the beginning of school was going to look like: computer work for tiny children. All day. Stuck at home. The school emails were assuring us it would be more organized than it was when everything shut down the year before.

That’s a nice sentiment and it was true. And I know those teachers and administrators worked so hard to get there.

But as a user interface designer, the process was rudimentary at best, even confusing for adults. I also understand that what was offered was the very best possible. We are not talking dumping millions of dollars to fund a software sprint for public schools to go fully online with slick apps and three years of QA. The already taxed taxpayers would laugh it off the ballot.

So the burden of proof fell on the shoulders of parents. I had a 3-month-old nursing infant who was still in the pre-nap stage of babyhood; A preschooler one-man circus and a kindergartner and first-grader who still lacked the fundamental coordination to be able to control a mouse.

Yikes.

And double yikes for my people who are the 2 working-full-time parents who have young kids the same age. They found themselves both now at home trying to juggle their work life and manage their kids’ school.

And triple yikes for the TEACHERS who may have had small kids at their house. How in the world did they do it? How did they teach their classrooms then try to manage teaching their own kids???

And it took a LOT of parent involvement. As a student of my kids’ moods and behaviors I noticed this: even though teachers recorded themselves teaching, I watched the boys zone out. It’s because of the lack of accountability. Accountability at any age is important, but young kids have very little self-motivation because that is the sort of thing that is built with time and maturity. With a glance of his/her eyes in the classroom, a teacher can pull a student back in.

So it was up to the parents to re-teach what was taught. We had to step in and become the engager. You can probably imagine that I rather enjoy teaching. But you can also imagine that there are a few VERY strong personalities going on in this house. My kids don’t take things at face value. And that’s our fault. We make a habit of teaching them how to lead a self-examined life. That and they are OUR children. Genes are powerful like permanent markers on your favorite pair of high heels.

So, I have a bunch of kids who need help clicking to the right locations and then needed to be motivated to do their work. And a breastfeeding baby who I typically breastfed while running back and forth to each computer trying to listen to what they teacher was saying when they were live. And the baby wasn’t napping. Or sleeping much at night. And I wasn’t doing either.

And TJ started going to preschool after the first few weeks. So we would load everyone up in the car precisely at 7:55. Sam would start his zoom call on the way to preschool. Then, I’d have to log him off and log Josh on when we got to preschool and Josh would start at 8:30. His would continue when we got home so I would transport him and the computer inside, disconnecting from my phone hotspot and connecting again to the home wifi.

And Sam would need to start the next one. So I’d throw him in the office. And on and on it went all day. Managing the work. Listening to the teachers. THANK GOODNESS it only lasted about 6 weeks for CCUSD. Dave would come in every night and I would collapse right after I fed everyone dinner. Getting up through the night to breastfeed, of course… and would do it again the next day. Supernatural strength. God was there. He saw my pain. He lifted my head after the shame of a bad day.

Fast forward 9 months and we reached the end of the school year. We all lived. They baby grew. She is now over a year old and so independent. The sharp pain of those early few months are fading, but I NEVER want to forget. Her early infancy was forged with a mom who was neck deep in the war room with two three other little generals- plotting a new chart each day to attack and make it to the next bunker. Leveling-up on the reg. Just like breast milk passes on the antibodies, I hope I passed along the warrior spirit to my little girl. In whatever she becomes in the this life, it will serve her well and God will use it to bring Glory to himself.

The boys and I worked through things together. We had arguments, I adjusted. They adjusted. We talked through how to better understand each other and when they needed mom to back down.

In terms of global crises… not a good year. In terms of relationship building in the Lin house…. a very good year.

It probably aged me 10 years in appearance, but that is so secondary it’s almost laughable.

I needed this perspective today. As the boys raced around and shrieked with laughter in the evenings (and grated on my burning nerves) I needed to remember how far we’ve come. And my beautiful boys have become more creative, more resilient. They’ve become more graceful toward me and the most loving big brothers toward their sister.

It has been a good year.

#schoolsout2021 #momsnot #momwinslife #squirrel #squirrelsofinstagram #amwriting #creativewritings #creativewritingsociety #squirrelsofig #squirrelmom #squirrel🐿  #schoolsout #schoolsoutforsummer #schoolsoutforsummer😎  #summercampherewecome #authorsofinstagram #authorsofig

baby_birds

Disposable Diapers for Birds: The Scoop on Poop

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Roses are red.

Violets are blue.
Husband’s on call,
I tend to the crew.
 
We’ll celebrate later,
Anniversary too.
Next week will be good!

Today can eat poo.

 
Like I said, today (Mother’s Day)

was kind of an “Eat poo” day. Little did I know how significant that would be toward the end.

Dave arrived home and glory be. His presence makes everything better. The screaming is a little less grating, the boy noises more easy to bear… mostly because he whisks them off outside and lets me have a few minutes’ peace to sling dinner. Which was exquisite tonight. A smoked Tri-Tip with grilled hearts of romaine salad and baked potatoes. In my very VERY humble opinion, I am really good at it. Meat was a perfect 130 degrees internal. And if you say that’s not enough… you’d be wrong.

I know, I know. I cooked our dinner. For Mothers’ Day. Special dispensation, you see… the man was at the hospital earning the $$. Next week is our anniversary and we are stepping out, my friends. And we’re going to party till Ten O’clock like the mid-40’s parents we are.

But until Dave came home, it was poo. Lots of boy arguments, lots of baby meltdowns because I’m weaning her and no one wants to learn to feed themselves when it’s just HANDED to you. Level up girl. Put on your big girl panties.

So when dinner was ready, we kept the boys inside and Miss Fussypants went outside, because that tends to make her happy. The two adults sat outside with our plates and tried to keep her somewhat content.

While eating, we heard the crazy-crazy chirping of all of the adolescent birds sitting in our cactus in the side yard. So Dave picked up Rachel to show her the commotion.

I, of course, continued to sit and milk the sanity for a few minutes. So this next part of the story is told through the eyes of daddy when he returned with Rachel in his arms:

“You aren’t going to believe what happened!

So, I was watching this little scene unfold: The babies were chirping like crazy for food. The mama bird flies in and starts feeding one of the chicks.

Then the chick turns around at the entrance of the nest. I got worried because I thought this was the instance that the poor little bird was going to be thrust out of the nest into the cold cruel world and I’d have to be an unwilling participant in its little social experiment.

But no. It hangs its little booty out of the entrance of the nest and proceeds to push out a fairly large poop for such a small bird. It was astounding. BUT:

The turd just hangs there. Quivering indefinitely like it is stuck in a time warp of fecal proportions.

And THEN… that mama bird swoops over and grabs that poop and hauls that poop right out of the nest to some proverbial diaper pail in the sky.”

I looked at him and blinked.

“Forget the *poo* hitting the fan… that mama bird didn’t even let it hit the ground!”

I feel like I was one-upped today by even the animal world.

I was intrigued by what just happened so we asked the googles about this phenomenon of “birdy poo snatching.” Here’s what it told us:

“Baby robins remain in their nest for about 13 days. Just about every time the nestlings gulp down some food, they poop. Let’s see—that’s 13 days x 4 babies x 356 insects and worms on average each day. That’s a LOT of poop! How on earth do robins keep their nest clean?

Baby robins can’t wear diapers of any kind, but they do put their poop in a strong “bag” so the parents can carry it away. This bag is made of thick, strong mucus that a parent robin can pick up in its sharp beak and carry without puncturing, and is called a fecal sac. Fecal sacs are just like disposable diapers for birds!

Within seconds of feeding, baby robins back up and poop. This ensures that whichever parent brought the food will still be there to carry away the fecal sac.”

How many times a day are those parent birds picking up fecal sacs?

I guarantee you, by the end of each day, that mama bird also wanted to kick that little baby right off the edge of that nest. Her poor wings. I see you mama bird…. I see you.

After we finished reading the Google expose, Dave looked up from his phone and said, “If that doesn’t say Mother’s Day, I don’t know what does.”

“I have an answer for that: Haagendaaz and Breyers on sale at Albertsons. Get to steppin.”

Dave, being a husband of excellent training threw the baby in the car and took off for the promised land.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the poo-slinging moms.

There will come a day when “Mom’s Not” doing it anymore,

But today is not that day.

#momsnot #momsnotwipinyourbum #authorsofinstagram #latenightwriting #creativewriting #creativewritings #creativewritingsociety #mothersday2021 #mothersday2021❤️ #mothersday2021🌷🌷 #momsaresuperheros #writersofinstagram #momwinslife

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If You’ve Got Spirit, Let Me Hear It!

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Spirit Week.

The scourge of every semester for moms everywhere.

I mean, I suppose there are some who get excited about it. And God bless you if you are. You keep doing you.

I’m going to keep doing me.

And “me” is simply dreading the extra work associated with the various dress-up days.

I mean, I barely get myself dressed in the mornings. If I’m wearing the appropriate underwear and I’m out of my robe for the morning drop-off I’ve done really well. I might as well just close out that day as a “Win.” I may be a little smelly… my hair may not be washed in a few days, but I’m wearing clothes and I won’t get hauled into the local precinct for indecent exposure.

I’m convinced there are two types of kids in this world: Ones who think that school spirit week is “neat” and ones that think it is “not neat.” We didn’t have “school spirit” days when I was growing up. But then again, we had to walk uphill to school both ways in the blinding snow. It goes without saying.

My two eldest each fall into one camp. Sam thinks it’s definitely “neat” and Josh gives me the head shake every time. I will let you guess who is my favorite son in this scenario.

But at least Sammy is a self-starter. He decided he wanted to dress up for “Disney Day.”

This is a conundrum in this house. We’ve watched many a Disney movie, but other than that, we don’t have much to do with the Mouse ears. I’m not sure why. We haven’t hit Disney Princesses with #4. When we do, you’ll certainly hear about it.

At breakfast, Dave and I brainstormed and we got a brilliant idea.

“Sammy- you have a Mandalorian shirt! Mandalorian is most definitely Disney!”

He got excited. “Cool mom! That would be grea….”

He stopped short.

“Wait. That shirt is actually a ‘night shirt.'”

Me: “Yes. I mean, it’s a ‘t-shirt.’ You wear it with pajama bottoms BUT… you can ALSO wear it as a regular shirt.”

*I’m selling this hard*

Sam: “Mom, it’s a night shirt.”

Me: “You can wear it, Sam, it’s ok. No one will actually know.”

Sam: “MOM!!!! IT’S A PJ SHIRT!!!! THIS IS NOT GOING TO WORK!!!!!”

Dave and I just stood off to the side and looked at each other like, “This conversation cannot be real.”

Sam the scientist just could not make the existential shift in his head from PJ to T-shirt. It was too much. I feared his brain would explode.

“Sam, if you don’t want to dress up, you don’t have to.”

Josh “hi-fived” him and they loaded up their stuff and got in the car.

I want you all to know that I tried. I made the effort. I even argued a case.

And when it was unceremoniously shot down, I’m here to tell you…

I’m not sad about it.

Until next year Spirit Week, with your cray-cray hair days, your dress up parties and your silly props. This mom’s peacin’ out and coasting on “normal” for the entire summer.

#schoolspirit #schoolspiritweek #latenightwriting #momwinslife #authorsofinstagram #authorsofig #writinginspiration #writinglife #writingofinstagram #amwriting #writingstuff #momsnot

sedonuts

Another Bite Out of the Se-Donut

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Well, we’re up there a lot.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the area, there’s no other way to describe it other than this: Two giant brothers went head to head in a wrestling match and they piled up giant slabs of rocks as they went. And they bled all over the place and stained everything red. Then the rains came and kind of turned it into a watercolor mess. Then their mom came out and yelled at them for making such a mess and bleeding on their front lawn. And then the mom teared up because the mess was so beautiful. Then that giant mom decided just to let them fight it out next time because it produced such beautiful results.

And that, in a nutshell, is Sedona. It’s wild, it’s jagged, it’s breathtaking.

And TJ calls it Se-Donut. And we do not correct him.

Partially, this is because there is an ACTUAL donut shop in Sedona called SeDonut. Which makes me angsty that I don’t own the marketing rights to that. I would have a field day.

This donut shop is good, but that’s beside the point. TJ just picked up the name and happily proclaims he loves “SeDonut” but means “Sedona.” And we pat his head and tell him he’s cute.

Especially since the viral shutdown, we just take a Saturday and go up there and play. Because it’s always at least 10-15 degrees cooler than the Phoenix Valley. Sometimes we’ll just go to a fun splash pad park and sometimes Dave and I are feeling adventurous and take all four hiking. Of course we get the complaints. The “I’m tired” and “I’m hungry” etc. Zip it kids. We’re busy building character. For the parents, of course.

But today, we just went up to relax. We took a picnic to the park. We brought all the kids and the dogs. And it actually was *fairly* relaxing as far as hauling kids go.

I should explain the one complication. When Rachel woke up that morning, she had a slight fever (with no other visible symptoms). Eh, like around 100 deg. And Dave and I went back and forth about whether we should go. Like all good parents, we decided to nix the day and just stay home.

Nope. Of course not. Are you kidding? Stay home on a beautiful day with FOUR kids slowly stealing our sanity? No way. So, I just grabbed the Tylenol, made the picnic lunch and had the boys throw all their things in a bag; shoes, swimsuits and extra change of clothes.

Rachel was fussy on the way up and of course, tons of traffic for a Saturday. But there’s something about hitting those red rock views that makes even the fussiest baby fade into the background. We made it into West Sedona and set up camp at the park. It was busy but not overwhelming with all sorts of parent and littles playing on the equipment and splash pad. The hippie parents were out and I love those guys. They’re all so nurturing and attentive and they always remind me to relax and enjoy the moment.

The kids lasted about 2.5 hours and then fussy pants happened for both Rachel and TJ. Into the car they went. And then we loaded up the other two. After a McDonald’s ice cream pit stop, we looked at each other and said, “What next?”

To be fair, the “What’s next?” discussion happens A LOT. It usually goes like this:

Dave: “OK, what do we do next?”

Me: “Umm, haven’t gotten that far.”

Me: *silence*

Me: “What about XYZ?”

Him: “Sounds good, let’s go.”

The “Next” was a short drive to Uptown Sedona. TJ had fallen asleep. We had the two dogs, a woken and crying Rachel and the other two boys. When we found a parking spot, Josh looked at us with panicked eyes and said, “I FORGOT MY SHOES.”

So, to be fair, we didn’t really notice until this point because 1) lots of kids and 2) parks don’t require shoes. But running around Uptown Sedona most certainly does.

I’m going to tell you something you already know, but we’re in the learning phase with the littles right now:

Natural consequences really, really stink.

Especially for Josh who doubles down on the critique of himself every minute of every day. Did Dave and I get a little frustrated? Of course. Because that means one of us has to stay in the car while the other parent takes Sam, Rachel and the dogs on a walk around Uptown Sedona. And let me remind you, it was BEAUTIFUL that day.

But we didn’t say a whole lot other than make a plan as to who was going to stay. Josh started having a minor meltdown because the full weight of his forgetfulness settled in on preventing him from having fun. And Josh is about two things: Playing outside and having fun.

I’m guessing the next time mom says “Go put your shoes in the bag,” he won’t forget.

Maybe.

Let’s skip the rest until the drive home. This is where things get fun.

Remember that line in “Dumb and Dumber” where Lloyd says to Harry, “You want to hear the most annoying noise in the world?” Then proceeds to sound like a human air horn?

That was the ride home with little Ray Ray. She didn’t have a fever anymore, appeared ok. Had been fed, no dirty diaper. You know, the usual checklist that parents go through eleventy million times a day. I was the driver home because I insisted I was awake and ok to drive.

I popped in those AirPods and put on the Noise Cancellation feature. Life saving. I drove that bus home and she screamed practically the whole way. I’m sure Dave’s nerves were shot, but the boys seem to be able to ignore the screaming and just watch their movie even though they couldn’t hear the sound above the screaming.

We thankfully exited the car at home and it was late so we hurried everyone to get themselves ready for bed. As I unfolded Rachel’s diaper, I discovered a 2 mm red rock tucked neatly right in-between her tiny little butt cheeks, buried where the sun can’t shine.

Imagine having a pebble stuck in between your cheeks and not being able to do anything about it. I just shook my head and thought, “Sorry little girl. We missed another one.”

Then it was time to put the boys to bed and little Sammy has been struggling hard with allergies for a few weeks. He seems to have gotten ALL the allergies, poor boy. So even on Claritin he was miserable and complaining that his nose felt like there was something “tickling” it. I thought, “Oh, that’s just the effect of allergies.” What else do you say about that?

But he was almost having a full meltdown and getting loud about his nose. I just hugged him and all of a sudden he pulled away after a violent sneeze. He looked at me with wide eyes then looked in his hands.

“Mom!!! It’s OUT!”

Me: “What…WHAT!!! What’s ‘OUT?'”

I looked in his hands and there was a small wad of toilet paper that had been in there for who knows how long. Likely a couple of days because I remember back to how long the “tickling” comment had been going on.

I once again felt sad, like I missed his misery.

“Sam, did you suspect you had anything stuck up your nose? You should tell mommy… you wouldn’t get in trouble, I just would want to help you get it out.”

Sam: “I really didn’t think anything was up there.”

Guess who then got a lesson in how to figure out nose blowing? I doubt he’ll be smashing TP up his nose again.

Maybe.

Whatever.

Who am I kidding?

The kids and their drama now firmly asleep, I crawled downstairs to put away the rest of the stuff in the fridge and the leftovers from dinner. I started this story to sort out my day and worked on house admin until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. And I finished it the next day when I had had an appropriate amount of sleep.

Appropriate amount of sleep? Who am I kidding?

Certainly not you.

#sedona #sedonaarizona #sedonaaz #sedonaescape #visitsedona #redrockviews #sedonuts #latenightwriting #childrensbookauthor #roadtripwithkids #levelupkids #momwinslife #picnicinthepark #appleairpodspro #everydaystories #writingforlife

looking_at_map

5 Tips to Get Kids to Do Things For Themselves

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Alright, Lin, GIVE IT TO ME! Tell me EXACTLY what I should tell those stubborn little beasts to do to get their bums in gear and wipe themselves, clean their rooms, feed themselves, drag their bags, pick their noses, cook their food AND DO ALL THE THINGS!!!!!

Well…. I hate to tell you, but easy fixes just don’t exist in this world unless we’re talking about duct tape. Because we all know that fixes darn near everything. And believe me, I’ve wanted to duct tape some mouths closed on a daily basis.

We’re talking about PEOPLE. Little people, but people, nonetheless. And with people come moods, internal motivations, external motivations, hungry bellies and whatever else life throws at these little souls minute-by-minute.

And let’s all just stop for a second and remember a very important point: We, the parents are the bus drivers. We’re driving the family bus and we’re leading the family pack. And a lion’s share of the family momentum is shaped and fueled by us, whether good or bad. And it’s the subtleties in how we present things, how we say things, and most imporantly, how we DO things upon which our children will absorb and react.

Some of the things in this list I’m about to tackle with you vary wildly from day to day and kid to kid. Every child might have to have things repeated more or less, but all kids need a patient leader who is willing to go the distance with them; like a good coach who hangs in there through the wins and losses and keeps cheering them forward until they reach their goal.

  1. Assume that your child is at ground zero regarding whatever new task you’re about tackle.

    • Even though you wash your hands every day, YOU don’t have to pull up a stool to hit the sink. Once I saw my boys launching themselves at the kitchen sink to wash their hands, I made step one: “Guys, first go get the stool.”
    • Walk them through each step in the process: “Get the stool. Use one hand to pump the soap and the other to hold the dispenser. Then wash them like this until all the bubbles are gone.”
    • Then have them repeat the process back to you.
    • Every once in awhile, randomly, I’ll just call out for fun “Hey Sam! What’s the ‘hand washing’ routing? And he’ll laugh and rattle it off and run about his business, kind of like I just challenged him to a secret handshake.

  2. Decide in your own mind that YOU are ready to tackle the issue

    • As you assess whether or not your child is “ready” to start learning, you then have to decide if YOU are ready. It goes something like this: “OK, my little person is ready. And I’m ready to teach them the steps. And I’m getting mentally prepped for the pushback.”
    • Set up some possible “pushback” scenarios in your mind and have solutions or pivots handy. Of course, so much of parenting is course-correcting, but intentional parenting has a loose plan in place to aid in the course correcting so the train doesn’t completely derail.
    • Sometimes, you have to pivot mid-stream. “Hmmm… it looks like we both may be getting frustrated. Let’s take a breather and read a book.”

  3. Your timing and attitude going into it has a lot to do with the success or failure of “the mission.”

    • It’s important to keep things age appropriate. It wouldn’t be age-appropriate to teach most one-year-olds how to wash their hands. It would just lead to frustration for both parent and child.
    • Likewise, trying to teach your 2-3 year old how to wash their hands when they’re hungry and/or tired is poor timing- which also ties into the next point.
    • Check the temps, both yours and your child’s. Are you running hot? i.e. stressed, tired, squeezed for time? Then skip the “teaching.” Wait until you can focus on the task and keep your wits about you and deliver your message in a measured, even process.
    • Really think about how each child learns. Some kids can pick it up right away and do it from square one, but this isn’t the norm. Most people need things repeated often. And each child might need it taught multiple times in different ways. They don’t call parenting the “hardest job in the world” for nothing…
    • Lay that grace on thick like buttah. When they mess up or don’t get it right, be quick with a smile and an encouragement to “try it again” or “you’ll get it next time!”
    • Don’t be afraid to scrap all of it and start over from the beginning if the process isn’t working for either of you. Do a “parent pivot” and figure out a better approach.

  4. Use a “touch-and-go” approach.

    • Tackle a little bit here and a little bit there depending on that temperature you just took.
    • Maybe you only do two steps of the process… or one step. Then the next day you build on it.
    • Random times, talk about what it is you’re working on or just say, “I see you and I’m proud of how hard you’re working on ____!”
    • If I start getting a ton of pushback, maybe it’s time to back off and try again later. But sometimes, just sometimes, I can sense the pushback is because they’re not wanting to push through the difficulty. And that’s where I step in and help guide them through to completion. Because “Good” and “Hard” are not mutually exclusive.
    • Make it fun! Make it light! Throw some music in there. Dance like a crazy person. Make silly faces at them. Whatever it will take for them to disassociate the task with fear or drudgery.

  5. Tap your village for all it’s worth

    • You’ve heard me talk before about the importance of “the village” and I will never stop. The village can actually teach your child to level-up where you cannot.
    • That’s right. You heard me. Someone else can do it. And that’s ok. There are just some things where your child will dig their heels in and not want to hear it from you. My boy does NOT want me to help him with baseball, even though I played softball for many years. But he will definitely let the coach do it. Coach… he’s all yours.
    • There is no shame at all in outsourcing that which will salvage the relationship and stick better through another teacher. I might call on the grandparents to teach shoe tying. Or the uncles to start the boys folding clothes. And after the skill is introduced, they’ll let me help them perfect it.
    • You are actually helping your kids to learn how to take instruction from many different teaching styles other than your own which will be immeasurably valuable in their adult lives.

And there’s the list. Sorry guys. That title was misleading. This article was mostly about me. And you. And how our approach can LEAD our kids to become independent little thinkers and independent little doers.

Just like we always keep our goal for the kids in mind (Aiming our kids at true greatness), we also keep our personal goal in mind of working ourselves out of a job as a parents. And that means constantly helping our kids move to the next step when necessary and appropriate.

I probably have a few more things to say, but between four kids, I have to go turn on the engine and drive that bus… drive it straight into Crazyville to catch the next train to the Funny Farm. I’ll be working and planting and pulling up weeds all day long. If you need me, you’ll know where to find me.

#levelup⬆️ #levelupyourlife #levelupkids #independentkids #parentleaders #parentleadership #truegreatness #parentcoach #ittakesavillage #latenightwriting #childrensbookauthor #momlifewins #successfulkids #futureleadersofamerica #futureworldleaders #intentionalparenting #parentingonpurpose #leadingbyexample #parenttraining #authorsofinstagram📚

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