klynlynk

Divorce has far-reaching consequences, especially if children are involved. I turned down that road in June of 2005 when I filed for legal separation from my husband of seven years; our divorce was final in February of 2006. Irreconcilable differences. That's divorce-speak for 'we bring out the worst in each other' or 'there's no chemistry' or 'we don't really like each other anymore' or 'we just can't do it anymore". No matter the reason a couple splits, it sucks. Starting over is hard. Really hard. You'll probably feel like flooding social media with anger-filled (perhaps wine-induced) rants about how something didn't go your way & how it is all your ex's fault because they don't have your "good" parenting skills. My advice: Get over yourself and STFU.  If child custody needs to be established, then the process normally results in the mother being awarded full custody and designated as the chi...

I remember playing Dodgeball in elementary (K-6) and junior high (7-9) school. We couldn't bring a note from Mommy excusing us from P.E. that day or cry about getting hurt...we played Dodgeball. We played not just because we were told to play, but we also enjoyed it. We were kids acting like kids. We PLAYED. A generation later and now our children aren't allowed to play group games like Dodgeball in school because someone might get hurt. And because someone has to lose the game. Apparently it's not acceptable anymore for people to have different talents. Today everyone gets a trophy. What happened? Do you remember feeling the icy-hot sting when that textured-rubber ball connected with the side of your face during a game of Dodgeball? I sure do. Because I sucked at Dodgeball (and sports in general). The Dodgeball sting was especially bad if the thrower was mad at you that day. Or if we were outside on a frosty winter morning. Or if a boy threw the ball at you. We didn...

My youngest daughter, Kendra, is five and a half years old (I added the "half" there because she would probably cry if I said she was just five years old). She made a dramatic entrance into our world (complete with an electrocuted squirrel and hospital-wide power outage) and she was born with the ability to throw an Oscar-worthy temper tantrum. She is wise beyond her years, at times even wise beyond my years; her words and outlook on life can sometimes overshadow the fact that she is only five years old. So, as frustrating as it is in the moment, I often find joy in her emotional meltdowns. Some reasons why Kendra is crying, mad, or pouting: We put a big bow on her head and brought her home from the hospital. She was forced to have her picture taken with her sisters. She couldn't catch a cat. She had to take a nap. She rubbed spaghetti in her eyes. We got her sparklers on the 4th of July. We dressed her like an Arkansas Razorbac...