Everyday life

The best things in life are homemade.

This morning at breakfast Anna commented to me, “These pancakes are GOOD!”

“That’s because I made them from scratch,” I replied.  (Right down to grinding my own wheat into flour).

I prepare breakfast for my children four out of the five school days each week.  Pancakes make a weekly appearance.  Mainly because the simplicity of adding water to Costco’s Kodiak Cake mix means I can sleep until 5:45 and still whip them up before Anna is out the door.

Pancake mixes are lifesavers, for sure.  As far as I’m concerned, any breakfast that appears on the table at 6:00 a.m. is a freaking labor of love.  But to suggest that a mix and pancakes from scratch are one and the same is simply untrue.

Think about it.  When attending an event where dessert is potluck, which ones disappear the fastest?  Including the crumbs.

No one’s calling up the local grocery store bakery to get their chocolate chip cookie recipe.  But you can bet they want mine.

I’m a creature of convenience as much as the next person.  Despite my cache of tried-and-true recipes for whole wheat bread, granola bars and banana muffins, I (more often than not) raid the snack aisle for goldfish crackers and wheat thins.

I might even have snagged a giant bag of Costco rolls a time or two.  My kids don’t mind a bit.

In my heart, though, I know that I’m giving my best when I’ve slaved over a stove or oven to present a fresh, unprocessed version of the same.

It’s not just because homemade(or homegrown, for that matter) tastes better.  Or even that it lacks the lengthy easy-to-mispronounce ingredient list on the side of store-bought packages.  Although, that’s part of it.

Somehow it satisfies me to know that my vanilla ice cream recipe contains only four ingredients compared to the 19 listed on our favorite store brand.  I even brag to my kids that my recipe is “healthy”, though arguably anything containing heavy whipping cream is most certainly anything BUT.

Still, homemade goodness is more than just goodness.  It’s love.

It’s the message it sends.  Messages like, “I was willing to get up a few minutes earlier to make you pancakes from scratch.”  Or, “I know how much you love my homemade granola bars so here’s a few dozen to tide you over for, oh, two days”.  Or, “I appreciate how hard you work to put food on the table for our family so I’m willing to sacrifice my time to make that food delicious.”

Food just might be a love language, I’m convinced.  Its power cannot be underestimated.  While you won’t find me swearing off prepared foods entirely, you can bet I’ll keep sending love notes in the form of edibles for years to come.

 

April iPhone dump.

I realized after reviewing my iPhone pics from April that I need to take more pictures.  Regrettably, some of the best memories from last month have great video footage (ie: every single at-bat that Rachel had during multiple softball games) but am lacking instagram-worthy still shots.

Regardless, this blog is a record, first and foremost, so here’s our April recap in pictures:

 

Breakfast omelette in bed – courtesy of my loving husband.

 

A birthday tradition – roses from Costco.

 

Proof that I finally perfected my homemade french fry recipe. Devoured in mere minutes.

Date Night to the opera – A Streetcar Named Desire. Downright weird music and a total downer of a plot but Tim and I both agreed that it made us think. So there’s that.

Jack enjoying the beautiful spring weather with his very best buddy.

Anna singing with her quartet (and their male counterpart quartet) at a junior high band concert.

More fun outside with friends.

A fun visit from family – and daring antics on everyone’s favorite swing – just two weeks before one of the ropes snapped.  I can’t imagine why…

Anna’s choir trip to Washington.

Rachel competing in the “soccer ball throw” (aka: discus) in the city track meet.

Family night at the park. Jack’s the only one who got his picture taken because it was all hands on deck to keep him from falling off each precipice he insisted on scaling.

Add to that piano recitals, a voice recital, softball games galore, several art lessons, a belated birthday party for Anna (it’s my “off” year for party planning so she did the planning and failed to capture any pictures), and prepping our house for a home addition and you’ve got a pretty full month.  Now, on to an even busier May!

Keeping a toddler entertained in the car for under $25 (screen-free).

My husband likes road trips.  They’re not my fave.  But I can get on board with the goal to keep family travel as inexpensive as possible.  So we do road trips.  Yes, even road trips with toddlers on board.

Despite the many benefits of traveling by car (cost being the most compelling for me), I find it difficult to balance my unyielding commitment to limited screen-time with the sheer amount of time spent in an enclosed space that accompanies car travel.  Especially when it comes to toddlers.  Let’s face it, those guys were not designed to be cooped up.  (Although, admittedly, the very WORST age for car travel is the recently potty-trained, in my opinion).

Our family recently drove to the Oregon Coast for spring break.  This summer, we will tackle a 3 1/2 weeklong adventure from sea to shining sea.  Almost.  The task of keeping the kids entertained will prove formidable, at best.  Especially when it comes to the terrible two-year-old.

So our drive to Oregon (totaling 20 hours in the car, roundtrip) served as a sort of practice run for the final test of my road-tripping savvy this upcoming summer.  Here’s what I put together to keep my son from bugging me entertained in the car:

  1.  Travel binder.  I resurrected an old school binder to house the multiple activities I came up with to keep Jack busy.  I kept them contained individually in several zipper pouches (purchased at none other than the dollar store).   $5

    If you would rather have the ease of purchasing them online, here are good alternatives you can buy on Amazon.    Three-Ring Zipper Pouches (I like these pouches because they are 8.5X11 inches) and Zipper Binder

  2. Sticker fun.  My son really loves letters, so he enjoyed attaching alphabet stickers to the corresponding letter on an alphabet printable I found online, printed out and laminated.  Kept him engaged for 45 minutes straight.  Pretty impressive. Your kid might like sorting by color, or shape, or he/she may just stick them to his/her face or carseat, as my son did after he had tired of the mental stimulation of sorting.  Either way, here are a few printables to choose from.  And here are some stickers to go with them.  $1 per sheet of stickers or $5 total Or, if you want to minimize prep time, feel free to buy this sticker book.  My daughters loved it for road trips when they were younger (ages 3-6, that is).
  3. Magnetic drawing board.  No mess.  No fuss.  I got mine at the dollar store, but the drawback to that is that the “pen” isn’t attached so you run the risk of it getting lost.   $1  You can always buy one like this, if you’d rather not chance it.
  4. I Spy bag.  You can buy these on Etsy for under $15 each.  I made my own for less than $10, but because buttons come in packs of 5-8, I ended up making five and giving the rest to friends.
     They’re pretty easy to whip up (here’s the tutorial I loosely referred to) except for the card listing the items to find.  I took actual pictures of the trinkets to put together the card and that turned a relatively simple project into a tedious one.  Having said that, I think using just text would make no sense if you’re making it for a toddler.  If you want to use mine, here’s a printable (it’s a jpg, so you can resize, as needed):

    I found all of my buttons at Joann Fabric and at Buttons Galore.

  5. Playdough.  Yes, that’s right.  Playdough.  If you have a nice car or you happen to have upholstered seats that you care about, playdough is probably not your best option.  But, for people like us, who buy really old cars with leather seats, we are willing to take our chances.  And, for the record, our trip to Oregon sustained minimal mess (From playdough at least.  The snack-eating kids in the back seat were an entirely different story).  If you want to throw in a few playdough mats to inspire creativity, you can find them all over Pinterest.  I simply grabbed an old sour cream container lid for Jack to use as his “table”, provided a few containers of the store-bought sort and let him have at it.  My nine-year-old was pleased as punch that she got in on the action, too.

    $3 tops.

    The grand total (dollar store prices) of this travel binder will set you back about $24 total.

Thanks to these simple activities, a few books, a toddler playlist, long naps and a bit of screen-time (limited to hours after dark), our little mister was pretty much an angel.

For our road trip this summer, I’ll be adding in a couple more activities so stay-tuned.

(This post contains affiliate links, which means that if you purchase any of the recommended products, I will receive a small commission at no cost to you)

 

The one question I ask my kids after each altercation.

Tonight, I ducked out of the kitchen shortly after dinner to play the piano.  Why?  Well, because I wanted to, first of all.  But second, and this is what I told the kids, so that they wouldn’t retreat to the piano instead of doing their assigned post-dinner chores.

Never mind that I should have been modeling appropriate post-dinner behavior.  But I had made the dinner, after all.  They could clean it up.  It’s actually been the arrangement in our home for at least six years.  But somehow I typically spend all my energy after dinner corralling them into doing what should be habit by now.  Clearing the table, washing the dishes, loading the dishwasher, sweeping the floor and wiping the counters and table.  They make it look like rocket science most days.

So tonight I washed my hands of it, brushed Anna off the piano bench to prevent her from being distracted and played a few tunes myself.  Within minutes, a blow-up of epic proportions ensued.  Having hidden myself away in another room, I was unaware of the origins of this particular argument.  All I knew was that after a yelling match between Tim and Eve, Tim retreated upstairs to bathe Jack (which was apparently necessary due to the nature of the crime Eve had committed involving homemade slime).  The rest of the crew, unable to resolve the situation peaceably, continued the shouting match, leaving me no choice but to intervene.

I run a pretty tight ship.  But unless my kids are physically hurting each other, I really try to steer clear of their contentious interactions.  I don’t want the expectation of resolving all of their differences, nor do I think that facilitates good relationships.  Occasionally, when they get particularly riled up and the interaction degenerates into nuclear warfare, I send them to what we call “Lover’s Landing” (the landing between the two sets of stairs in our house) where I ask them to consider the question:

What could you have done better in this situation?

I don’t point fingers, there’s no blame game to speak of.  I simply ask them to acknowledge their role in how everything went downhill.

Much of the time they retort defensively, saying, “What about her?”  Or, “if she hadn’t done such and such, I wouldn’t have had to do this or that”.  It’s a basic human mechanism, to stew about how we are victims of circumstances, how someone else’s behavior was not only the catalyst but the cause of our own behavior.

It might be nature to do so, but it’s a mechanism founded in a fundamental falsehood.  A falsehood that fuels our rationalization of poor behavior.  And, if we’re really thinking big, the destruction of relationships, and even societies.  We are responsible for our actions and ours alone.  It’s actually quite liberating to believe so, despite how easy it is to blame others.

We have zero control over what others choose.  And we have complete control over what we choose.  At least that’s the goal.

So when I ask my children to consider “What could you have done better in this situation?” they have to dig deep, take a good hard look at themselves and decide where things started to go south and how their actions might have contributed to it.  It’s easier sometimes than others.  It requires humility but is incredibly empowering.

Tonight when I asked one of the two parties (the less “guilty” of the two, in my assessment of the situation) to evaluate what she could have done better, she responded, “Why are you mad at me?  I didn’t do anything.”  Typical.

I repeated myself.  “I’m sure that if you think really hard about it, you can find something you did (or didn’t do) that would have improved the outcome.  When you figure that out, commit yourself to doing it differently next time.”

Because we all know that (in families) there will always be a next time.

Both the girls involved were able to settle down, consider their role and resolve the situation successfully.  And tonight I got a glimpse that my efforts to raise peacemakers are making headway.  While one daughter flew off the handle, two other daughters helped to subdue her.  One gently washed her hair of the slime (that was the real culprit in the whole mess), the other cleaned it off the floor (and the walls and the ceiling).  Without a word of complaint.

That it ended up in those places was not really their fault.  But their resolution to “make the situation better” trumped their tendency to deny their roles in the argument.  It warmed this mother’s heart.

Unmet expectations. The parable of the non-flowering plum tree.

The first spring after buying our first home, I discovered that our neighbors had given us a little gift.  A perfect view of their gorgeous flowering plum tree, which we could enjoy from the comfort of the couch in our family room.

For the brief time it was in full bloom, I reveled in its beauty, which filled my soul in ways I cannot describe.

So what was my first landscaping decision after we purchased a second home in the neighborhood less than two years later?  Why, plant a flowering plum tree, of course.  And locate it strategically so that I could kick back and bask in it from the recliner in my family room.

Imagine my disappointment the following spring when instead of progressing from bud to flower to leaf, it skipped the second step entirely, leaving me wanting for those stunning pink blossoms.  I rationalized by attributing its meager flowering capacity to the tree’s immaturity.

Unfortunately the same disappointment repeated itself year after year after year.  We’ve lived in this house almost thirteen years and I can count on two fingers the number of times the tree has rewarded us with a beautiful display of flowers.  What a downer.

I realized fairly early on that plum trees need to cross-pollinate.  You can’t just slap one plum tree in the ground and expect it to be fruitful.  My expectation of springtime blossoms aplenty was built on misinformation.  I was longing for something that simply could not be.  At least not without some intervention on my part.

How often do our lives play out in a similar fashion?  How many of us have imagined outcomes in life that have yet to be realized?  And what can we do to mitigate the inevitable frustration that accompanies unmet expectations?

Let’s go back to my plum tree analogy.  In my case, I was lucky to discover the fault in my planning.  Armed with the realization that in order for my plum tree to produce blossoms it needed a member of the plum family in close proximity, the solution was obvious.  Plant another plum tree.

But…I was too lazy to do that.  Besides, we really only had room for one plum tree at that point.  So I picked option B.  Which was, get over the loss of a few meager weeks of pink blossoms and be grateful for what the tree had to offer the other nine months of the year.

That tree has provided shade for me as I’ve sat in my backyard to keep an eye on my frolicking children.  It’s housed dozens of birds, providing entertainment galore.   My kids once picked its tiny fruit (it’s a flowering plum, after all), ground them down to make a fascinating concoction, called it “plum butter” and sold it to the neighbors on our street.

Not to mention that my tree gratifies us with lovely purple leaves 6 months out of the year.  Why would I focus on the lack of pink flowers when it has blessed us with all that?  Even if the pink blossoms were the reason I desired it in the first place?

We would do well to do our homework before pursuing certain dreams.  But sometimes even the most careful research can fall short in producing desired outcomes.  Life still has a way of presenting pitfalls and challenges to our hopes and goals.  We must not let our expectations curb our efforts to appreciate all that is good in life.

Our didactic plum tree is on the chopping block as we prepare to add onto our home this year.  Though the disappointment of over eleven springs with nary a blossom to bless my soul is deep, I am reminded to be grateful.  Grateful for all the blessings in life that came to me unawares.  And grateful for the knowledge that joy can be found in the most unexpected places.  Even in flowering plum trees that refuse to flower.

Yesterday morning I peeked out my window to discover a few pink blossoms gracing the branches of our tree.  As if to say, “Sometimes you get exactly what you wish for.  Sometimes you don’t.  Either way, if you want to be happy, be grateful.”

 

 

Spring breakin’ on the oregon coast.

We kicked off our trip (after driving across the state of Oregon, that is) by stopping at Multnomah Falls.  The upper viewpoint was still closed (presumably due to the wildfire that may have compromised the area last summer) but we made the most of our pit stop.  Tim and Lily gave us away as tourists by carrying umbrellas (it was barely drizzling).  The rest of us survived in our hoodies, in true Oregonian style.

We stayed in Beaverton that night with dear friends (one of whom I have known since the tender age of 12).  Our kids bonded by watching a whole season of some Amazon Prime kids show so that we could talk late into the night.  Good friends are priceless.  The next day we headed to the coast.  This was our view as we drove through the coastal mountain range.  It doesn’t exactly scream “headed to the beach”.  Haha.

Knowing that March weather in Oregon is rain, rain and more rain, I had the foresight to book a yurt at a state park.  To our surprise, we encountered plenty of tent campers.  Those Oregonians sure are hardy.  We explored the area and found a rocky beach at high tide, giant mushrooms and trees you could walk through.

We showered up that night, anticipating church in the morning and promptly discovered that Rachel’s fear of spiders is an actual phobia.  Like, I was talking her off a ledge the whole time she showered in what she imagined was a spider infested shower stall (there might have been one or two).  It was nuts.  She survived, and was appeased by my promise that she wouldn’t have to shower again until we arrived at our friends house in Vancouver, Washington.  Four days later.

We ran into some people from our home stake in Boise at church on Sunday(so weird), then headed out to hit up a few sights (since it promised to be a sunny day).  Oceanside was beautiful.  Giant sandy beach with haystack rocks in the distance and ample tide pools on the north side of the beach (you have to go through a tunnel to get there).  We all were in awe of the beauty and basked in the rejuvenation the ocean offered.

On to Cape Meares – there’s a fun little lighthouse at the end of a very short walk here.  The views are stunning and we caught several whales migrating north less than a half mile offshore.  It was mesmerizing.

Monday presented a few challenges, so to speak.  Our plans to go to the Oregon Coast Aquarium were thwarted when one of the wheel bearings on our car broke and we had to be towed to Lincoln City for repairs.  We spent a few hours in the repair shop, munching on popcorn and sipping soda(it’s the little things in life) before finding out our car wouldn’t be done until the next day.  We rented a car, drove back to our campsite and combed the beach for shells and agates at low tide.  Eve was thrilled to collect ten sand dollars.

The aquarium visit came the next day – and, judging by the number of visitors, you’d think it was Sea World.  Except without the rides, and orcas, and dolphin shows.  It was a nice aquarium, but honestly, I think our family does better when we stick to spending no money.  Increases the enjoyment factor.

Our trip back up the coast yielded a visit to Devil’s Punchbowl, which we caught at low tide so we hiked right in (would’ve been underwater at high tide), a late lunch at a yummy burger joint, and two gallons of Tillamook ice cream, which we consumed for dinner back at our yurt.

A freezing cold, wet (what else would it be in March in Oregon?) and glorious day on the coast.  We loved every minute.

Our last day, after cooking a pancake breakfast and packing up (I had to get on top of the car to close the car top carrier), we headed north to Cannon Beach.  A few years ago, we spent some time in a vacation rental but the kids barely remembered it.  So we planned for low tide, and spent a couple of hours on the beach building sand castles, bumping a volleyball around and exploring the tide pools at Haystack Rock.  Our last experience there yielded prolific wildlife – tons of sea stars and anemones.  So it was a bit underwhelming to find that most of the sea stars had found greener pastures (too much human interaction, perhaps?).  Still, the kids loved touching the animals and we all enjoyed hearing Jack try to say “anemone”.

Some of my favorite moments of the trip were found in the simple expressions of love we shared as family members – the willingness of the kids to stand out in the rain and hold an umbrella for dad while he cooked dinner, the wonder in their eyes as we soaked in the beauty of the world around us, the gratitude we all felt for a burst of sunshine or a hot shower, and the dorkiness we all exhibited over and over.  And over.

And this:

This sweet scene just made my heart swell with joy.  A little boy with a hand on his big sister’s shoulder.  Staring at the ocean.  Family life is full of these tender moments.  We just need to take the time to first create an environment where they can happen and take the time to notice when they do.

March recap.

We kicked off the month with the elementary school’s annual art night.  Art night requires no small sacrifice on the part of the volunteer art parents at our school, among others.  Jack and I spent the better half of the week hanging black paper, matting each piece of artwork and hanging it for the students to show off to their parents.  Jack deserves a medal.  So do I (for keeping a toddler reasonably entertained in the hallways of an elementary school for two days straight – I get tired just thinking about it).

Here’s the result:

 

Rachel and Eve both wrapped up their basketball season.  Rachel’s team made it to the championship and won in double overtime.  Rachel played the entire time and made half the shots in the final game.  So proud of her energy and persistence.

St. Patrick’s Day came and went…but not without some green sprinkled donuts to brighten the day after cleaning the church early that morning.

And, Jack finally decided that adult shoes can be fun toys.

We wrapped up the month with spring break – in another post.

The birthday that never ends.

Anna’s birthday falls on spring break almost every single year.  This occasionally poses a problem when trying to schedule a birthday party, or when your friends want to decorate your locker, or give you an embarrassing tiara to wear at school all day long.  So a month ago in family council we asked Anna what she would prefer: Skip a half day of school to drive to Portland on her birthday?  Or go to school and leave the next day to drive all the way to the coast?  (We’d booked a campsite for the following night).  She opted for Portland.  She apparently got the “introvert” genes in the family.  Or the “avoid embarrassment at all costs” genes.

Either way, we had to space our birthday traditions over several days to accommodate our plans.  Early Friday morning, we ate her birthday breakfast, sang “happy birthday”, ate a Costco cake (clearly not the “real, homemade” cake that was still to come), opened presents and went around the table telling what we love about her.  We then headed out the door to Oregon.

The following Friday night, we took her out to eat for her birthday dinner.  Then, finally, on Sunday, we indulged in her chosen birthday cake – a brownie chocolate chip cookie dough cheesecake.  Thank heaven Pinterest did not fail me on this one.  Delish.

As a bonus, her young women leaders invaded her room the day before her birthday to decorate it with streamers, balloons and chocolate.  Lots of it.  Boy, this girl is LOVED.

As a parent, I knew I would love the baby/toddler/preschool years.  And I have.  Little ones are so easy to love.  What I didn’t anticipate is how fun having teenagers can be.  Anna is a gem.  She’s steady, diligent, and has a solid knowledge of who she is gained through faithful study of the word of God.  In a world where many teens couldn’t care less about what really matters, Anna has got her head on straight.  She is a joy to raise and I look forward to seeing where her desire to seek out the good will take her.  Happy Birthday to my beautiful firstborn!

February iPhone recap.

I rarely post to Instagram, Facebook even less, so I feel like I should slurp a few pictures off my phone to demonstrate that February actually happened.  Here goes nothing.

Rachel and Eve played a lot of basketball.  Keyword: a lot.  Wait, that’s two words.

Anna and Lily sang in the junior high benefit concert.  Anna sang a solo for the third year in a row – and rocked it, naturally.

Jack endured another three days of infusions.  He looks pretty happy about it, right?  The kid is a model patient, I tell you.  He takes that needle like a man.  Whatever that means.

We kept Valentine’s Day simple (it was Jack’s third day of infusions).  Tim brought me lunch at the infusion center and I managed to eek out a few heart-shaped pancakes for breakfast.  (I might have also hand-written love notes for each of the “loves” in my life).

Eve designed her very own Valentine box with almost zero help from the parents.  Yay for self-directed children!  I’d like to think that I train them up that way, but it’s very possible that, in a family of seven, our kids have given up on trying to get our undivided attention.  Ah well, necessity IS the mother of invention.  Right?

We celebrated Chinese New Year in true Egbert fashion: with friends, homemade Chinese food, and a food fear factor contest.  This year’s selection of “goodies” from the Asian grocer were particularly delectable.  Dried squid, grass jelly drink, banana tofu, sardines in sauce, to name a few.  Can you tell by the look on my lovely daughters’ faces?  Yum.

Lily opened her first checking account, a rite of passage in our home that she was eagerly anticipating.  That girl is ALL about independence.

Tim took me to the opera for Madame Butterfly.  The music was beautiful, as expected (Puccini) but the story?  Oh boy, what a downer.

Jack is following in his sister Anna’s footsteps and has earned himself what we lovingly refer to as “the belt” at bedtime every night.  Too many mornings of a wet bed and a nude toddler warranted his new accessory.

Eve took advantage of the spring-like weather and assembled a hobo stick full of food for an afternoon out in the field behind our property.  Oh, I’m so glad she hasn’t outgrown the wonder of outdoor adventures.

Last but not least, Grandma and Jill surprised us with a quick visit!  The perfect break to the winter doldrums.  We took a walk on the Greenbelt to soak up some much needed sunlight.  It was cold, but our Vitamin D was replenished.

Never underestimate the value of a stay-at-home parent.

Occasionally I get caught in the comments sections of certain online articles.  I’m consistently amazed by the harshness with which some people approach their comments.  It’s as if they don’t realize there are people behind those online profiles.

If our world were to be judged by the comments sections of online articles, I fear the lack of empathy displayed there would indicate a world in rapid decline.

I read a string of comments the other day from a woman with a clear disdain for stay-at-home moms.  She queried, “Being a stay-at-home mom is NOT a job.  Why is this even a debate?”  She brazenly stated that she “does everything a stay-at-home mom does, plus work a full-time job.”  She went on and on, despite others’ protests, by bitterly labeling stay-at-home moms as “free-loading” “whiners”.  She ought to have been embarrassed.

Before I launch into my retort, please understand that I am not suggesting that stay-at-home moms are more valuable than working moms.  I acknowledge the many reasons why a mother decides that traditional employment best meets her needs and that of her family.  I admire all that working mothers accomplish and the value they add to society.  I don’t think anyone really questions that.  At least not the way many question a stay-at-home mom’s value to society.

Which is why I take issue with this lady’s comments.

First, “Being a stay-at-home mom is NOT a job.”  Please.  People get paid for pretty much every single thing a stay-at-home mom does.  Working parents pay people to do what stay-at-home moms do on a daily basis.  Child care, cooking and housecleaning are merely the tip of the iceberg.  In order to maintain a household, some things simply cannot be left undone.

In dual income homes, both parents (presumably) share those responsibilities fairly evenly.  In a single-income household, one parent performs the lion’s share of those duties…until the bread-winning spouse gets home.   Ideally.  In any case, if the stay-at-home parent is doing something you would have to pay someone else to do if there were no stay-at-home parent, then I think it’s fair to call it a “job”.  Pay or no pay.

Second, “I do everything that a stay-at-home mom does plus work a full-time job”.

Wrong.

There are only 24 hours in a day, lady.  Unless a stay-at-home parent is sitting around eating bonbons all day (and I do acknowledge that those types may exist, though I don’t know any personally), you can bet that for the 9 plus hours a working parent is on the clock, stay-at-home parents are anxiously engaged.

Shall I mention a few of the activities in which they’re engaged?  Yes, let’s.

They’re serving on the parent-teacher associations at your kids’ schools.  They’re teaching/tutoring any number of subjects in the classroom.  They’re chairing fundraisers, running carpools, and coaching your kids’ teams.  They’re the (piano) accompanist for your kids’ choir program.  They’re chaperoning field trips.  They’re pinch-hitting (taking care of your kids) when you’ve got a big meeting at work.  They’re volunteering in the community.  They’re running homeschool co-ops. They’re serving as den mothers and girl scout leaders.  They’re coaching sports teams.  They’re opening their homes to kids whose parents arrive home long after the school bells have rung.  They’re bandaging up scraped knees when someone’s kid gets into a bike wreck on the way home from school.

The list goes on and on.

Working parents do those things, too, you say?  Yes.  Yes, many of them do.  But, trust me when I say that the list of stay-at-home parents doing these things on a consistent basis far eclipses that of working parents.  There simply isn’t enough time in the day to work a full-time job AND do all of the above.  Stay-at-home parents don’t get paid a dime for the laundry list of service they render (that benefit SO many more children than just their own).  So, it would be nice if those who work outside the home wouldn’t discount their contributions.  It’s safe to assume that stay-at-home parents are compensating for much of what working parents simply cannot do because they have a paid profession to attend to.

Third, stay-at-home parents are “free-loaders” and “whiners”.

Oh boy.  At the risk of sounding snarky, if you want to talk about free-loaders, see above for all the things stay-at-home parents do while other parents are busy making money.  I am abundantly grateful that my husband works his tail off to provide for our family so that I can spend my days with our kids.  So grateful that I bust my own buns on the home front to ensure that the sacrifice of one income is worth it.  That’s not free-loading.  It’s division of labor.

As for the whining part, sure, that exists.  Stay-at-home parents whine about never getting a break.  Working parents whine about having to do it all.  The world could definitely do with a whole lot less whining.

Which brings me to my final point: parents need to make decisions about working outside the home (or not) and refrain from criticizing those who choose otherwise.  I realize that the online comments I refer to in this post don’t represent the opinions of everyone.  Still, enough people lack the empathy to recognize the contributions others make whose situations vary from their own.  Instead, they criticize.  Berate, at times.

I am in awe of the working moms I know.

Every few months, when I have to spend three days straight with Jack for his infusions, I catch a glimpse of the skill it takes to manage a household while spending most of the day away from home.  I drop the kids off at school, go to the medical facility with Jack, chase him around with an IV pole for six hours, and get home right as(sometimes after) my kids start walking in the door from school.  On those days, time management is absolutely essential and I have to be extra careful to ensure that each moment with my kids counts.

Bravo to those who do that day in and day out.

I would hope to receive the same sort of consideration from working parents for the efforts I make as a stay-at-home parent.  A little empathy and support goes a long way.  Yes, even in the comments section.