A piece about finding life and hope in an object that might be deemed trash.
As I think about the house where my babies have grown into big kids, tweens and teens I realize they're not the only ones that have been growing.
About ten solid seconds of sheer bliss transpire before I hear the hinge squeak. It briefly crosses my mind that it could be a serial killer. But I’m too relaxed to give a crap. “Hi Mama.”
So many misconceptions swirl around Stay-at-Home Dads. As the workplace is becoming a more even playing field for women, many couples are finding themselves in situations where having the dad stay home with the kids makes more sense.
They all need me. Is there enough of me?
If we take a step back and really consider the life that goes with that kind of perfect, sterile environment, it loses its appeal.
I can volunteer with the best of them and I devoted every last shred of my time and energy, because it was for the kids.
It’s been the kind of day that we’ll forget eventually, as time fades the bad and highlights the good.
I didn't need to be reminded that while the days drag, the years fly. I didn't need to be told that one day I will long for the tasks that once seemed so difficult and exhausting.
I sincerely apologize to any and every woman I’ve ever said anything negative about, or joked about in regards to being a stay at home mom. It’s not easy. In fact it’s the hardest job I’ve ever had.