I've always known my kids are smart. Most of the time, their smarts serve them well. But, on the odd occasion, their smarts get them into deep, deep doo-doo. PDD is eyeball-deep in doo-doo right about now, thanks to her smarts. Let me rewind.

In the never-ending battle to get PDD to keep her room clean, I have unknowingly created a weekly treasure hunt known to the rest of the world as laundry day. On the way to the bottom of her hamper just now, I found (and I kid you not) the following items, in addition to her dirty laundry: 3 folded t-shirts, clearly not worn since they were returned to her last...

I have a visitor this weekend. She’s quite the high maintenance guest, I might add. And a bed hog, too. But I’m not complaining, not in the least. Having spent almost 24 hours with her now, let me go on record by saying I’ll be floored, shocked, amazed and any other appropriate adjective you want to pull out of your hat if a DNA test tries to say...

Almost 21 years ago (8 days shy of 21 years ago, to be exact), I became a mother. Of course, I was going to be the best mom ever (weren't we all?!) and my children would listen, do what they were told without argument, understand that I knew what was best for them and thank me for being such a good mom. Yeah - well, one can dream, right? In the years since, I have fucked up just about every way imaginable when it comes to mothering. Big mistakes, little mistakes and all sizes of mistakes in between. And the hell of it is, I'm STILL fucking up on a regular basis. But, I'm ok with my fuck ups, and here's why:

Yes, we all survived Spring Break, hallelujah! It was touch and go a couple of times, but we made it. No stretch of days seems to pass here lately without some serious life lessons involved. Life lesson realizations, more accurately. You know, when I made the decision to take Adopted Son in, I knew what I was up against bringing someone everyone else in the world...