When Samantha was little and really struggling we stopped going places with her because we couldn't find places where she could be herself without others passing judgment on us. She needed to run. Sometimes she needed to cry or she needed to take a break. She wanted to play with everything and be loud. She wanted to jump and run. When we were homeschooling there were only a handful of hands on educational centers we could visit. I wish we would have had a Think Tank.

A few weeks ago I was in a conversation with several other Moms about a local child home who takes in kids that have "failed" in the foster system because the parents can't or won't work with their issues. Immediately after that was said, I chimed in with, "It's won't. It's not can't."  Several of the other ladies stopped to look at me, as I am sure they could see that I was really passionate about this. Another Mom proceeded to explain that some parents won't help because they don't know how. <<-- Whoa! Say Wait?

The other day my daughter came into the design studio and began asking what crafts she can make. The first thing she rattled off is a dress! <<--Bold, but WAY over her skill level. The only thing she has ever sewn in a little square pillow. I know what trying to make a dress that will lead to. Anger, frustration, tears, and a waste of materials. Instead I explained what the process is to make a dress and how many hours it takes to complete. I suggested we look for another alternative. A sewing craft (is she really wanted to sew) that was a next step from stitching a square.

Everywhere you seem to turn today we are flooded with loud, nasty, over-done examples of drama. When did this happen? And why are we fascinated by it? The news is not news any more without some outrageous headline. TV shows are dramatic. Reality shows are dramatic. Ads on FB, Twitter, and everywhere else are drama. It is impossible to find shows you can watch together as a family. You can't check out at the grocery store without being surrounded by tabloids giving homage to celebrities behaving badly.  

Yesterday I was at the grocery store picking up a few items. Several rows over I can hear a child screaming at the top of her lungs. She went on and on and the sound was getting louder as I was moving that direction and they were moving towards me.
She continued to scream for over 5 minutes when my eyes meet who was making the sound.

Last Friday night I was an absolute failure as a parent. My response was everything I tell you NOT to do.

Samantha had over reacted to playing with magna-tiles for the umpt-teeth time. (Literally every time she gets them out she ends up yelling, be frustrated, and trying to break them because they are not cooperating.) Frankly, after the 3rd time it happened, I should have simply removed from the room for a while. I was mad at myself for not doing this.

The other day, I came across this fantastic article: I Didn't Ask For Your Opinion On My Psych Meds. The article goes on to talk about how his choice to medicate is his choice and because he has made this choice; is not an open invitation for any opinions, suggestions, or concerns related to his medications. He goes on to talk about how his life has vastly improved because of his choice to take these medications.

Over the last 6 years I have been thrown into the world of nutrition like I never expected to be. When Samantha was around 2 and attending preschool, every morning on the way to school she would complain that her tummy would hurt. There were several mornings she would get car sick and throw up. We would turn around to go home, get cleaned up, and try again. Then at home she began complaining her tummy hurt. This went on for about 3 weeks, happening all the time. I had it. I couldn't take that she was hurting and I had no idea why. So we began tracking.

When Samantha was 3-1/2 I had a hunch she was about to be kicked out of pre-school. I was a mess and at constant war with myself. I was working, filling orders, designing events, trying to grow a business. Then I would get that call telling me to come get my "crazy" daughter and take her home. My whole day...completely derailed. Then at home I would stand at the counter with my laptop or my glue gun, trying to get work done while Samantha played until she would come stand between me and my work to push me away. (Honestly, I am embarrassed to admit this.)

The other day I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed, checking on what my family and friends are doing. As I scrolled I kept seeing other parents kids all dressed up for dance recitals, holding up awards for soccer,  getting ready to go on vacation, participating in basketball, swimming, martial arts or whatever. My heart sank, as I was reminded that my child doesn't do any of those things. Parent Child Envy struck.