You Are Loved
At the tender age of three, my very frustrated son on the verge of a temper tantrum turned to me and screamed: “I hate you, Mommy!”
At the tender age of three, my very frustrated son on the verge of a temper tantrum turned to me and screamed: “I hate you, Mommy!”
Recently we were quizzing my seven year old about which mystery of the rosary focuses on Christ’s passion. After one incorrect guess, he proffered, “the pitiful mysteries?”
This is our tribute to all Mothers–those who carry babies in in their wombs, those who carry children in their arms, and those who carry others in their hearts with an undeniable motherly love
It’s unfortunate, but my perfectionism seeks validation, and I made the mistake of seeking it from my eldest child who is now about to graduate high school, but at the time was 4 years old and in Pre-kindergarten.
I remember when I was younger, it was my consistent habit that right before bedtime I wanted to unload all my thoughts and words onto my mom.
I remember being in second grade, the teacher asking each of us to identify what we wanted to be when we grew up.
I realized I wasn’t connecting with my children in a way that allowed them to discuss the things on their sweet little minds.
I think that we put all these expectations on ourselves because we WANT to be superwomen.
A good friend of mine once told me that he was led into same-sex relationships partially because he was encouraged by those around him to romantically follow his attractions.
I am a spring and summer girl. While I appreciate fall and winter for the holiday fun, it is not where my heart is.