Perfectionism means that you try desperately not to leave so much mess to clean up. But clutter and mess show us that life is being lived.
Yes, you read that right. Don’t adjust your browser. I am giving you a recipe today. This is kind of an experiment. I’ll be sharing recipes with you on Fridays (can we say “Foodie Friday?”) for the next few weeks. If you like it, let me know (gasp – I have opened comments!). If you would rather not, be kind to me anyway. I get a lot of requests from friends and family for my yummy recipes. I can say they are yummy because I’m not taking credit for them. They are from my mother’s extensive cookbook collection which I inherited several years ago. What my mom told me as a teen is true: It doesn’t take anything to be a great cook. Just read and follow the recipes. I am delighted to find that many of the home-cookin’ greats in America’s Best Recipes and Southern Living cookbooks can be modified for allergen-free cooking if they are not allergen-free already. So whether you are preparing meals for someone with special dietary needs or you simply love comfort …
There are so many reasons for today’s mother to find inspiration and comfort from Charles West Copley’s A Life Well Spent. This Victorian-era painting has many parallels in our homes today, emphasizing the nobility and necessity of a mother’s Divine calling.
Because this is still true … in case you missed it the first time. My preschooler was nearly kicked out of the library today for playing too loudly with the puzzle pieces. Actually, it was our first time back in the library for a month, because the four of us holding cards were each banned for excessive fines. We came back today for “Fine Forgiveness Week.” We got a new start with a bag of canned goods for the needy. I have NEVER successfully baked a birthday cake. I make my children keep under their beds clean, but don’t look under mine. If you dare open the linen closet, something will fall on your head. I can’t spell. I once purposefully turned and walked away when my child was eating grass. I just couldn’t take it anymore. My three music-playing children don’t practice every single day. I’m not a “bedtime story” person. I don’t do windows. Apparently, I can’t grow vegetables. If a child misbehaves in a public place, I will say to him, “When I tell …
You pick up a couple of toys and put them closer to their homes on your way into the next room.
You grocery shop while steering the impossibly wide “car-style” grocery cart and insist that “No, I don’t need help out.”
Your hand sanitizer is bright green or dazzle-berry blue.
Your back yard may not be manicured, but you can usually find a barbie head or a super hero hidden in a pile of dirt.