Reflected Chronicles

Sometimes there are times that a person has to reflect back on the chronicles of life that made them who they are so that they can continue to grow as a person. Every individual a person comes into contact with in their life has an impact whether the person realizes it or not. No one has impacted my life more than my own children. I have learned more from being a parent than I ever would have, had I not had children. These are the chronicles that taught me the most crucial of life's lessons...

Patience is NOT a virtue, it's a necessity.

Nothing will test your patience more than a three year old having a meltdown in the store over something so trivial as a box of band-aids. Who cares if it doesn't have pink princess ponies on them as long as it fixes a boo boo, right? Tell that to the three year old that is now sobbing while simultaneously wailing at the top of their lungs about how they hate you over a $4.00 box of band-aids. Don't try to touch them! They immediately start screaming ,"Let me go!" Your frustration has reached a climax and you find yourself looking nervously around at the people staring at you  as if your actually trying to kidnap this unruly child. Your next thought is, "I'm about to go to jail for child abuse." A first time parent will be in tears all the way out the front door. A seasoned parent like myself however, will literally lie down in the floor on aisle 6 with the kid and kick and scream with them. They don't care who looks. They immediately throw the kid in the buggy and finish the rest of the shopping with a pouty faced kid that's wondering if mommy has gone bonkers.

Then there are the ones that are STILL teaching me patience. When my son Garriant was diagnosed earlier this year with ADHD and ODD, I realized there would be some adjustments. We're not talking about temper tantrums, we're talking full sized meltdowns that have a tendency to be violent. I decided to take him and my grand-daughter Paisley to pre-school story time at the local library. I went over the rules a million times before we got there. He even pinkie promised he would mind me. Somewhere in the back of my seasoned parenting brain, I knew better. We barely made it through page three of the first book when he started going up and down on the stairs in the little amphitheater. I grabbed him and tried to quietly correct him. That's when all hell broke loose.

I had to chase him down as he screamed for me to let him go, with every parent in the place looking at me. I was holding Paisley in one arm and Garriant was kicking me and screaming. I decided since there was already a scene to just be done with it. I literally dragged him out of the library. He lay on the floor as I pulled him through the entire building. An elderly woman came to my rescue just as I reached the door and offered to walk Paisley to the car with me. I gladly handed the grandbaby off and scooped up Garriant off of the floor. He thrashed all the way to the car. There was no consoling him. No time out. When I got them both buckled in, I thanked her and she let me know that she was glad to help. She was patient when I wasn't. I cried on the way home. I didn't know if I could handle this ODD thing after all. Then something happened...

When we got home, Garriant lay his head in my lap and cried. He told me he was sorry over and over. My heart broke for him as I realized he wanted to do right, but his little mind just wouldn't let him. I knew then that patience is a necessity and instead of putting him in situations that might cause a meltdown, I needed to learn what might set him off and be patient with him until he figured it out. That leads me to number two...

Trust your parenting instinct.

If I had just listened to the voice inside of my brain telling me that it wasn't my best idea to take both of them to the library by myself that day, it would have saved a lot of embarrassment on both of our parts.  I knew there was about a 90% chance he was going to be overstimulated. If I hadn't had Paisley, I could have put him in my lap from the beginning. I should have just waited until another day. Sometimes us parents have to push down our egos that we have it handled, when deep down we know we don't.

If a person can use the same instinct that lets them know when their kid is sick or faking to know how to avoid a situation before it starts, we would all eliminate a lot of our day to day stress. With that, here is number three...

Labels are society's way of making the unexplained, explainable.

ADHD, ADD, ODD, OCD, Bi-polar... When it comes down to it, the diagnosis factor is real. People want explanations for why their kid doesn't act like everyone else. Why do we as parents get embarrassed over things? Why do we care what people think? Because  society teaches us that if a person doesn't act like anyone else, something is wrong with them. They are immediately slapped with a label and ostracized. I'm not saying the disorders aren't real. They are very real. They are different from everyone else. Their brains think differently. I know this as I am ADD and have been my entire life. I don't think like other people. It effected my self-esteem as a child as I thought I was broken. Back then there was no diagnosis, just lots of paddlings and teacher conferences.

Having two children with ADHD has made me realize once the label is on, society treats them differently. So I implemented letting my kids know that they are different and it's a good thing. If everyone thought the same way, the world would always stay the same and that being outside of the box is a wonderful place to be. It's ok to learn differently, to think differently, and to implement change.

It is difficult at times. Both of them had to be medicated for school and I hated doing it. I eventually switched my twelve year old to CBD oil and it has been a miracle. She has not been on pharmaceutical meds in months. It helps her concentrate, but not be moody.

My son on the other hand has been withdrawn from public school pre-k and we are now homeschooling him. We are looking into it for my twelve year old for next year and the one year old eventually. That leads me to number four...

Education means education and there are many forms...

My oldest daughter is now twenty-one. She was in the gifted program in school and I pushed and pushed for her education. I could see Yale and Harvard in her future. She went to the local college for one year and then dropped. She just wanted to be a stay at home mom and wife. It's what makes her happy. My nineteen year old went through most of twelfth grade, then took the Hi-Set test. She is currently in college. My sixteen year old is happy with school the way it is, but my fourteen year old has a modified schedule because she has so many hours of gymnastics. She literally has to go to school year round so that she can graduate on time. She goes to public school half the day and starting next semester will be taking part of her classes online. That leads me to the twelve year old .

With her dyslexia and ADD, I kept her in school where she could get the help she needed. She is caught up and doing well. I am thankful for the help they gave her, but she has had some bullying trouble and she's no longer happy at school. I realized after looking at curriculums for her grade level that she could benefit from being homeschooled, so after this year, we are making the leap.

I've realized that people learn differently and because of that, there are different forms of education. Education has to be individualized for the best impact. I know plenty of kids that have a 4.0 GPA in college and still can't balance a checkbook. Education is what a person learns in all aspects of life, not just in a textbook.

I am still learning as a parent and growing as an individual. My kids have taught me so much about what I thought I knew. The older I get, the clearer I see how the world really is and it 100% because of my children. As a parent, a person wants what is best for their children. When they realize the best for one child may not be best for the other, they change parenting tactics. It's the only way to give them what they need to thrive. I want my children to be happy. That is my end goal. I want them to have whatever it is in their lives that brings true happiness to them. My job is to teach them what they need to become an adult and their job is to teach me what it's like to be a child.

The Mom Chronicles

With every chronicle of life there is a lesson learned to get us through the next one. It's no different for us moms.

I have a huge confession that will probably appall my fan base. It's something that is going to cause gasps and whispers. I'm pretty sure at the next booster club meeting I might be shunned, but here it is.

I don't really like Starbucks coffee.

I know it goes against everything I'm stereotyped as. I have the messy bun, the SUV that carpools kids across two counties, and I do enjoy a pumpkin spice latte on a cool morning. Just not Starbucks.

I am that mom that savors that moment right after all the kids are dropped off at school, when the sun is beating down on my Ford Explorer as I sit contently in my driveway for thirty minutes doing nothing but sipping my coffee and enjoying the solitude of nothing. It is a happy place for me before the chaos of chronicles hit again.

I think of coffee like wine or beer. There are people who are connoisseurs that really know what good coffee is. I consider myself a coffee connoisseur and possible a French fry connoisseur. However, that's a blog for another day.

Good coffee shops have artists instead of baristas. Their sole purpose in life is to make sure your coffee is good enough to keep you sane throughout the entire day with one grande cup. Most of those franchise coffee places just can't cut it. Starbucks is the worst. I have been to many and when I say they very seldom get my order correct, I mean that in earnest. If I am paying almost six dollars for a cup of coffee, it better be correct.

I've heard the term "White Girl Coffee", thrown around and it may be offensive to some, but it's relatively true. If you don't believe me, drive by any Starbucks shop at 8AM the first day that they bring back the Pumpkin Spice for the fall. You will see what I mean.

I prefer the local shops. I had one that I loved when I lived in New Albany, MS called The Coffee Addict. I actually wrote most of my first novel sitting behind it's cozy doors. A few years ago it closed and I moved away.

In my new town of Hattiesburg, MS. Java Moe's is what's up in the coffee world. This morning I got my XL Pumpkin Spice for $1 off because it's flavor of the week and paid less than $6 including the tip. I'm still sipping it as I write this.

My second favorite here is actually a chain. I know I'm already contradicting myself, but it's Joe Muggs inside Books A Million. The baristas that work there is what makes it great. They go out of their way to make the coffee perfect for you. I think maybe the smell of books makes the coffee better. It's a happy place for me as well.

If you are used to just driving through to get your white mocha vanilla soy latte with extra cream, sacrifice a little of your time you will have when your sitting in your driveway in solitude to go in a local shop and place your to go order. I promise your moment of solitude will be worth every second to stand in line.

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Netflix and Chill

The other night I was lying in bed snuggling with my four year old, my one year old, and my husband while watching a movie in my bed. The following conversation transpired.

Me: I love this. I'm laying here with all three of my boys.
Dubba: Yea, the ones that love you and the ones that don't.

Of course my husband and I fell into a fit of laughter because he's four and it was funny. Sometimes however that's not the case. Sometimes that's exactly what parenting is like.

As parents, we all know that there are times that we are not friends with our children. There are more times than not that we are downright seen as the horrible Bandersnatch's that control every move. We know that we try to do right by our children and even if they scream that they hate us at the top of their lungs we tell them it's ok, because we will love them enough for the both of us.

You might be that parent that raised perfect little angels, that never backtalk or misbehave. If you are one of those people, hats off to you. You have been blessed with luck that is incomprehensible. I suggest you play the lottery every chance you get.

You might also be the parent that THINKS your that parent, only to be the laugh of the town as everyone except you knows that your kid was out drinking two counties over with the rough crowd that you would never approve of.

I personally fall into category number three. The realistic parent that is so open minded, sometimes I assume the worst of my kids because I was a horrible child myself and I just assume they are doing what I would have done.

So far, I'm actually quite impressed with how my older children have turned out. It shocks me quite often. Granted, I have yet to have a doctor or lawyer in the family. Although, those are admirable career choices, I didn't give my children names like Toni, Merlyn, Serenity, Liberty, Arwen, Garriant, and Ranger, just so that they could conform and become sheeples.

 I wanted them to break the stereotype roles. I wanted them to be themselves and make their own path. I didn't want them to do what the rest of the world does, because let's face it, the rest of the world isn't trying very often these days to make the world a better place. If I could teach my children the difference between what is right and what is wrong and be able to feel it in their heart the difference instead of relying on what so and so says is right or wrong, then I have conquered two thirds of my parenting goal.

Teaching children how others should be treated is a prime example of such. Teach them to love themselves as well as love people and places and respect it all.

Don't get me wrong there will be times that you are tested as a parent and you want to throw your arms up and yell at the top of your lungs for them to just do whatever they want. The other times you are going to firmly stand your ground and defy their defiance. They may slam doors, hate you, become silent, and storm off. That's ok too. They will eventually get over it and when those few years are over they will love you for it.

In the meantime, snuggle up in bed with a good movie and fight over the covers. There are worse things to raising children than who gets the biggest pillow.


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Yes, He's That Kid!

Years ago when I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I saw visions of football and baseball games in my head. I could see this sweet little boy in my head in his overalls and a puppy nipping at his heels. I then found out it was a girl and little Joseph Steele AKA Josie became Toni Alexis. With the second child we opted not to find out, but it was always in my mind that little Destin Jeffrey was in there. It turned out I was wrong again and we held onto that boy name for four more pregnancies. My ex-husband decided then to have a vasectomy and my vision of my sweet little boy vanished.

Skip ahead seven years and I was now thirty three. During those several years my marriage ended and we all moved on. In February of 2012, I started dating my now husband. We talked about having kids and we started down the path of trying for baby. It didn't take long. I couldn't believe it. We went in for our eighteen week appointment with a name in hand, Avianna Gabrielle. When the ultrasound tech moved the control over the sex, I saw it immediately. He was 100% ALL BOY. I cried. My husband was so happy, but he already had three boys, so he was actually rooting for a girl. I immediately fell into puppies, overalls, John Deer hats, and cowboy boot mode. I could just see him playing baseball and hitting those home runs. It was perfect. And then....

When Garriant (We call him Dubba.) was two and a half, we had another baby. Another boy. I could see Garriant changing, but I assumed it was jealousy because of the new baby. It got worse and the tantrums became fits and the running started. He would run away outside every time the door was unlocked. We have had to chase him throughout the neighborhood more times than I can count. He has jumped in the ditch full of water with his school clothes on first thing in the morning. I have had to drive the car around the neighborhood looking for him in the rain because he slipped out before anyone saw him. One night he chased my car after I left the house to pick up take out and my husband had to run after him all the way up to the main road with cars having to stop to keep from hitting him as he chased after my long gone car. After that, I had my husband install slide locks at the top of every door. It has been insane trying to keep him from just running away.

This past spring my dream of watching my little boy in his baseball uniform came true. He was so excited when we went to get his cleats and gloves that I chased him through Academy Sports down three aisles. The first practice came and he was so excited I had to make him stop climbing the fence most of practice. He was so excited he ran around not listening to the coach, or my husband, or me, and I could see the parents staring with glares as he was like a feral jungle child all over the place. Finally, he was able to throw the ball and he threw it so hard he actually hit an old man that was there helping out. I apologized and so did Dubba, but it was too late. He tried to throw the ball to another kid, but missed and almost hit another boy. That was the moment the parents that were with that boy, literally walked off the field over to the other team that was practicing and had the coaches switch their son to that team. I found myself scolding him all the way home. He apologized over and over, but I was hurt. I had this dream and now he was labeled. He was "That Kid".

You know which kid I'm talking about. The one we have all seen at the playground throwing rocks or pushing someone down and inside we think to ourselves, "If I was his Mama, I'd beat the mess out of him." Well folks, I'm his mama and it doesn't work. We've tried it all. We've done time out, we've  taken away toys, we've spanked and none of it works. I told my husband we were never spanking again because it just seemed to make matters worse. The games were no better. He threw the sand and he shoved kids and we forced our way through every game. I felt those stares on me and I found something had changed in me. I became the primal mom who wanted to protect my cub. I could see it wasn't his fault, why couldn't they. He is a sweet boy. He hugs everybody. It doesn't matter who it is, but they didn't care if he hugged, all they cared about was his wild child mentality.

We had a scare a few weeks later when he ran away from his older sister at the beach while I was helping my daughter's friend set up for her wedding. Twenty long minutes went by on a crowded beach with us frantically running up and down looking for him. He was found with his other sister down by the water. She told me he told her I said he could go to the water with her. I was livid at her for not checking with me first.

 A couple more weeks went by and I was getting him ready for school. He was dressed and sitting in front of the TV while I was changing his little brother's diaper. I came back into the living room and the front door was wide open. He wasn't gone probably two minutes, but it was long enough. I started yelling for the other kids to help me look. We went around the block twice. It had rained all night and the creek that runs behind the neighbor's house was rising and moving very fast. I panicked. After ten minutes of all of us looking, I called 911. I broke down on the phone and had to gather myself to get the information to her. Within minutes the Sherriff cars came and fire and rescue. They all started the search. Forty five minutes went by and they hadn't found him. It was the longest forty five minutes of my entire life. Finally, my daughter Merlyn walked around the block one last time and saw his shoes at the bottom of the neighbor's steps. She ran and knocked on the door and the neighbor came to the door yawning. She told Merlyn she had just gotten up but would check and see if one of her little boys had seen him. Sure enough the six year old had let him in, unbeknownst to his mom and they were playing Beyblades in his bedroom. My husband had come home from work and the news station miraculously showed up just as we were all reunited. So now the whole area knows he's "That Kid".

He has been in pre-school since he was one and they say they have never had a problem with him. I thought it must be me. I've done something wrong as a parent, but two weeks ago he started pre-k at what he calls the Big Boy School. The first week I thought we had it made. I got no notes and no phone calls. I should have known it was too good to be true. Tuesday came the first call. Wednesday the second. He was running off during recess, running down the halls, and jumping onto the table in the cafeteria. So now he's "That Kid" at the elementary school. Thursday I tried something different.

 I started selling Kannaway back in May because his sister that has ADD and Dyslexia was on medication and I hated the way it made her. She had no appetite, she was moody, and she couldn't concentrate after it wore off. I had heard good things about the Kannaway which is a CBD oil derived from cannabis. It is 100% legal in all fifty states of the USA. I gave her the Kannaway and it was like someone flipped a switch. I started her out on the capsules, but have since switched to the 1000mg oil and I only give her a 25mg dose. It works great for her attention issues so I thought to myself it might work for him. Thursday I gave him a 25mg dose. The teacher said he was about the same. Friday I gave him 35mg. Once again he was still running away at recess. This morning I bumped him to a 50 mg dose and low and behold he didn't run. He listened to the teacher and all afternoon its like he is the little boy I saw in those visions so may years ago. I had a meeting with the school at lunch and the teacher informed me that he actually sat during story time. I will try again tomorrow and see how it goes. As far as him being "That Kid", I'm ok with him being the child everyone will always remember and know his name, because one day they will look back and think what an amazing little boy he was. He always had a hug and a smile and gosh was he fast.

The next time you see "That Kid" at the park or ball field, stop and offer to give his mom or dad a hand. Trust me when I say sometimes "Those Kids" just have more energy than mom and dad have combined.

The Silence

Silently Insane.....That's what my mother said to me once when the kids were running through the house screaming and I sat there like it didn't even phase me. I suspect pharmaceutical companies are just like kids at the end of the school year; jumping up and down yelling,"Whoo Hoo! School is out! Sales are going up!" There is not a doubt in my mind that anxiety medication use probably quadruples by August of every year. I just go to my happy place and ignore the chaos for two months then clean up the aftermath when it's over. This week I have had nine children in my home. Only two were under the age of 11. That means I have dealt with enough teenage drama to last a lifetime. In one week I have been through a break-up, a get together (or two), two girlfriends falling out and making up, two sisters fighting a brutal battle over a pair of shorts, catching two teenagers making out, a sprained knee, two girls on their periods at the same time, a yellow jacket attack (two stings), an escaped rabbit, a misplaced phone, a baby boy dressed in pink, One neighborhood kid who has a Pica problem and likes to eat my laundry detergent, a 2nd degree sunburn, 2 UTI's (One was mine on top of everything.), 7 am, "Mama, I'm hungry", a diaper rash, the loss of the only tube of toothpaste, 2 kids that don't like tomatoes, when I had a 5 gallon bucket of tomatoes that needed to be eaten before they spoiled,  24 rolls of toilet paper, the disappearance of 7 Mike's Hard Lemonades out of my fridge (No question in who took them.), pen marks on my BRAND NEW sofa, a broken Scentsy warmer, not to mention the constant nailing and sawing on the sheet rock that is getting fixed due to a flood that occurred back in February....Whew! Yes, I might be a little silent at times. During those moments I am in a Adirondack chair, lounging on the beach, and sipping a margarita. It is my protest to the pharmaceutical companies. Na Na Na Boo Boo, I win! You aren't getting my money, because it has to be spent on the five sets of uniforms before school starts back next month along with six sets of school supplies. Yes, even Dubbs, the one year old contributes to the silence.  So while I write this, Ariana Grande blares through the house as kids are actually cleaning up their mess from last night. (One has a boyfriend coming over.) It's LOUD in here, but I'm quietly writing in my peaceful bliss of silent insanity.

The Nerd Herd

I admit it. I am a nerd to the very core of my soul as well as my husband and a couple of my kids. I love to read and we all are serious about Doctor Who, The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, and Supernatural. My fifteen year old falls into the black sheep category. In your household I would be willing to bet your idea of that is  different from mine.

Before Christmas this year, I went shopping for the kids at the mall. I walked into Hot Topic and immediately found a complete wardrobe for my seventeen year old. Within five minutes I had picked out t-shirts for all of my step sons and my twelve year old daughter. Then I realized my fifteen year old daughter Merlyn had been left out of the teenage mix. I looked frantically everywhere in the store for something. Nothing fit her taste. The sales associate came up to me and this was the conversation that followed:

Associate:  Can I help you find something?
Me: Well, you see I have a black sheep in the family. I don't really know what to get her in here.
Associate: Well you came to the right place.
Me: Actually I'm thinking I better go over to Hollister.

You could have knocked her over with a feather.

Me: You see, in my family she is the black sheep because she's kinda preppy.

The girl laughed and took me over to a section that had Disney t-shirts. I smiled and picked out Merlyn a cute Aerial t-shirt that will go great with her designer leggings. I paid for my items and left the store.

On Christmas as everyone opened up their Hot Topic goodies, I could see the horrification building as Merlyn saw the tags. When she opened her box, she let out a deep breath and smiled.

Merlyn: You had me worried for a minute.
Me: What? You didn't want a Fourth Doctor scarf like I got Toni?
Merlyn: Not funny.

Later that day as we were all relaxing I walked into the living room and the girls were arguing over the TV.

Liberty: I want to watch McKenna.
Merlyn: You have watched it twice today already! I am NOT watching that again.
Me: What are you trying to watch?
Merlyn: Star Wars!

Oh what a chronicle. It appears that even though some kids have a protective shell to the outside world that makes them appear like they are one thing. Some of them are truly closet nerds. I laughed at the situation as I popped in Star Wars: Episode 3 and enjoyed watching the demise of Anakin Skywalker with my nerd herd.

These Are The Days

           There is nothing like waking up in the morning listening to the waves roll up on the shore with the smell of the salty air surrounding you. As you slowly open your eyes, a cool breeze blows through your open windows and the subtle call of gulls are heard   as they scramble after the sand crabs that scurry along the shore.  One more deep breath and you begin to slowly move your body from your bed and then it happens……..the alarm clock goes off, scares the baby lying next to you who immediately begins to wale. It seems to be the catalyst for how the rest of your morning goes. One child screams that you’re brushing their hair too hard as two teenage girls fight over the shower. Finally the bus arrives and the baby girl is still scrambling for her shoes when you shove her out the door with one shoe on and one in her hand as she runs toward the bus griping about how she’s tired of oranges for her snack. You barely have time to breath when you turn around and your eldest daughter hands you your grandson so that she can go pump a bottle for him. Meanwhile, your baby is cutting teeth as loudly as he can on the cold washcloth you gave him to chew on, since he despises pacifiers and teething rings.        

                Alas, the joys of parenting and grand-parenting.  Days like that are when you’re wishing for Calgon to take you away. Those are the chronicles you want to sweep under the rug. There is really only one thing you can do on days like that. You just keep breathing. Soon the babies will take a nap and you can clean up the mess that blew through town before the other kids left for school or you can sit down and watch the mess not clean itself. I know this because I have done it time and time again. Sometimes I have quoted the songs of Meatloaf. “Life is a Lemon and I Want My Money Back”   other times it is simply the most joyful moments that make it all worthwhile and that is when I’m reminded that the Calgon days are all worth it. Yesterday was one of those days. My husband and I went to check the blackberry patches in the woods behind our neighborhood. Unfortunately they are still green.  Liberty had been out of school sick with a sore throat. We met her as we came up the path. After my husband Sjhon gave her a good scolding for being out of the house and we walked halfway home, she coughed and grabbed her throat.

                Me: See I told you being outside when you’re sick makes it worse.

                Liberty: My throat hurts.

                Me: Maybe you need some soup.

                Liberty: Feel my throat. I think my anal glands are swollen.

                Me:  Liberty, you don’t have anal gland’s you’re not a dog. Do you mean your lymph nodes?

                Liberty: Whatever.

               

                Today on the other hand was one of those Calgon moments and all day I have found myself thinking about Libby’s non- existent anal glands and I smile. That is the key to it right there. When people comment on how they would go nuts with six kids, I just smile and say it can be crazy sometimes. All I know is if Liberty comes home today complaining about her throat, I will call the vet and make her an appointment.

Where To Begin.......

I have to say that it is nearly impossible to go through life raising perfect children. Scratch that. It IS impossible. When our children are born, as parents we picture them saying yes sir, no sir, yes ma'am, no ma'am, please, thank you, and you're welcome. We picture them helping the teacher out in class and knowing all of the answers. We see them in our minds as perfect little babies that grow up with manners to become successful individuals that travel the world and do the things that we as parents never got the chance to do. We picture those cute little babies laughing and gigging and knowing the answer to quantum physics questions by age five because let's face it, they're perfect.

Something happens however that we do not expect. Somewhere between their first twenty four hours of life and adulthood the world continues to spin and not bow at their arrival. Kings do not hault at their presence and the soundtrack to The Lion King isn't played when you introduce them to people the first time as it did for Simba. Within a few days to weeks you begin to realize your perfect baby may not be so perfect when he or she chooses not to sleep all night or have a cold. By age two, you as a parent are probably thinking you might have to take them to a child psychologist because something must be seriously wrong with them when they lie down in the middle of the store and kick and scream to the point you are sure security will be called, all because you, the terrible horrible parent, won't give in to the child who insists on wanting the five dollar box of cereal just because it has a picture of a dog. A dog that takes five UPC codes to get and isn't even in the box.....

You are not alone. We have all been there. Consider this your wake up call. Those little sweet babies all turn out the same. They are all one thing. Human. They are not perfect. My grandmother used to tell me that when children are little they step on your toes and when they are older they step on your hearts. Oh boy was she ever right. Imagine having three kids in a gifted class and one that was held back in kindergarten because she couldn't read. Later you find out she has a learning disability and you wonder as a parent what you did wrong. The answer is simple. Nothing. It's just the way things are sometimes. Imagine being the parent of a sixteen year old who was always an honor roll student, a member of the Air Force JROTC, and trusts you completely to the point of responsibly asking for birth control, just to find out she can't take pills because of the hormones. She maturely asks for condoms. As a parent you are proud of her for trying so hard to be responsible. Unfortunately one breaks and you find yourself taking her to her first OB appointment and you become a grandmother at thirty three. It did not mean you were a bad parent. You can only lead a horse to drink and sometimes the horse has to poop and crap happens. It's life.

Then there are the moments that are priceless. The moments you wouldn't take anything for.

Me: Can anybody tell me who’s on the two dollar bill?

Serenity (Age10): Andrew Jackson

Me: No that would be a twenty. I’ll give you a hint. He was a white man with a black kid.

Liberty (age8): Michael Jackson?

Me: I don’t even know what to say to that.

Those moments are the ones that make it all worthwhile.  That same disappointment you felt when that sixteen year old told you she was pregnant goes clear out the window when you hold that grandson for the first time and say to him, "You're the best Chronicle yet."

My Point Is......

 As a mother of six children, I have to say that everyone on the planet has an opinion of how to raise kids. Everyday someone is either giving me some kind of advice on what works to make sure that my children become proper upstanding citizens. I will go far enough to say that it has been said time and time again that it takes a village to raise a child. In my case apparently it takes a metropolis.

 The idea of The Hair Dye Chronicles came from my ex-husband who used to joke about someday writing a book about the exploits of me and my eldest daughter fighting constantly over dying her hair different colors on a monthly basis. It became a joke with us every time one of our children did something that made us laugh or shocked us to the point of disbelief. We would say to them, "You just made The Chronicles." Neither of us actually wrote any of it down, but there were several events that will always be permanently scarred into my brain as either the funniest moments in history or near death experiences. Finally, a few years ago I did start writing down a few and with it came a realization that I could actually tell people my experiences myself.

Now I'm not here to tell anyone how to raise their kids because it drives me nuts for people to do that to me. It's almost as bad as when I tell someone I have six kids and they ask, "Don't you know what causes that?"
(Yes, I am completely aware. Thank you for the gesture into my sexual life.) I am here to tell how I raise MY kids and how my own children have taught me what being a parent is about. I hope you will find some enjoyment from my everyday chaos. It is completely maddening at times and completely rewarding at others. This blog will have lots of quoted moments from my own children's mouth as well as some other people. I swear on all that's real in the world that everything you read is completely truthful, even if it sounds absurd..........