michelle kemper brownlow
I'm a writer. This week I nursed a kid back to health and watched way too much children's television. I am truly disturbed.
It's that time of year -- a time to mention what we are thankful for. And as this mom doesn't have time to find a pen, let alone write down anything, I choose to say my gratitude list aloud. Don't think I am crazy in the WalMart!
If teachers have been saying your kid could have ADHD, hold off on the Ritalin. His behavior could be a symptom of something else.
My husband can be categorized in one word -- ANAL! And he married an artist. Let me help you visualize this. His closet looks like a department store, and mine looks like it threw up on itself. But I've learned -- if you can't beat 'em, learn to appreciate 'em!
You know you're starting to lose it if the way your kid slurps a popsicle angers you immensely.
Shoppers are staring. Spaghetti sauce is covering aisle 6 ... (sigh) and my shoes. His siren-like scream has moms from three counties speed-dialing Child Protective Services. He flails his body, hits his head, and screams louder. The moms who haven't called for backup are giving me "that look." Admit it, you would be, too.