Build Her Confidence: Guest Post by Samantha Grace

Today the PBKMoms are thrilled to welcome fellow author and mom Samantha Grace.

It’s an honor and a privilege to be blessed with a child to raise. You want to keep your children safe and have them grow into healthy, happy, successful, loving, and productive individuals that will make the world a better place to live. You want the world to be a better place for them.

It’s no small task to be a parent. The hours are long, the work is hard, and the pay stinks, but the benefits package is priceless—snaggle-tooth grins, sweet belly-laughs, admiration shining in their eyes. Yeah, it’s totally worth it.

Having a daughter feels like even more responsibility, at least for me as a mom. I’m THE example in my daughter’s life of what a woman should be. Or if I’m horrible at this mother gig, maybe I’ll become a precautionary tale. (grin)

I feel it’s every generation’s job is to be better than the one that came before it. Our pasts should not be projected onto our children, and mistakes shouldn’t be repeated in an endless cycle. My mom was a great example for me in that respect. She didn’t have an affectionate, loving home growing up, but that didn’t stop her from trying her best to give it to me. I never doubted my family loved me.

My mom wasn’t able to give me was the confidence that comes from being comfortable in my own skin. I want to give this to my daughter so badly. I don’t want her to look in the mirror and zero in on what she sees as flaws. I believe how you actually look has little bearing on how happy you are. Beautiful women can feel lacking and large women can be living the best life imaginable. While I always want to focus on health, I don’t want my ten-year-old daughter to ever feel anything less than a goddess and unwilling to settle for anyone who isn’t going to love her fully.

Here are steps I’ve taken to help build her confidence, and so far, they seem to be working.

Being a good example: Actions always speak louder than words. No matter how many times I might tell her she’s beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet, my efforts could be for nothing if I’m critical of myself. My daughter is a part of me and therefore anytime I put myself down, I’m putting down a part of her. That may sound far fetched, but as I’ve grown into a woman, I see more of my mother in my features. If I complain about how ugly my nose is and my daughter has my nose, I’m telling her she is ugly too. (Personally, I have nothing against my nose. It does its job.)
Sometimes it means faking confidence when I may be wrestling with insecurities, but it’s amazing how something that starts out as pretending can become real.

Letting her fail and be successful: It’s normal to want to protect our girls (boys too, really), but always coming to the rescue can send the message that our daughters aren’t capable of handling things on her own. That’s a slippery slope because then her focus as she grows becomes how to find someone who can take care of her rather than her seeking a partner to stand by her side.

One simple way I’ve worked with my daughter in gaining social confidence is having her make her own phone calls to RSVP for parties. I model for her what to say, have her practice, and then stay by her side while she makes the call. Sometimes it takes a vote of confidence. “You can do this. You’ll be fine.” And I always follow it up with praise for how brave she is. I’ve done the same thing with helping her approach service counters and ordering at a restaurant. We also practice different ways she can respond to classmates who aren’t being nice to her.

Reinforce that she was born exactly the way she was meant to be:
As a teen, I remember hearing how pretty I was. And how I could be a ‘knockout’ if only I would lose five pounds. Oh, the ever present five pounds, the only thing standing between bliss and me. I know my mom meant well and probably thought she was being helpful. But in my head, I only heard “You’re not quite good enough.” It also seemed incredibly important for me to be a ‘knockout’ and to be attractive to the opposite sex. But you know what valuable lesson I learned eventually? I didn’t need to change anything to be loved. I only needed to love myself and once I’d started down that path, my husband came into my life. And you know what’s even more amazing? The things I considered my weak points – i.e. curves—he loves. So there ya go! I’ve told my daughter since she was a tiny girl that she is exactly as she’s supposed to be, because I believe that with all my heart.

Focus on her strengths:
I don’t give my daughter false compliments, and I don’t praise everything she does. I think that only makes kids more reliant on outside reinforcement that they are okay. But I do notice her strengths. She’s a decent singer, budding artist, and good writer. She is a great friend. She’s sensitive to others and she’s kind. Her teacher chose her for a special leadership program at her school because she is always helping other kids. In fact, in kindergarten she became the self-appointed buddy to a classmate with special needs, helping her get to the bathroom and into line for different activities. She has a great work ethic in school and she isn’t shy in the least.

So how do I know the efforts I’m making are working? If you follow me on Facebook, you’ve probably seen postings about things she says and does that illustrate how confident she is. Her latest show of confidence came when I said something about her talking distracting me from what I was doing, and she responded with absolute seriousness, “I’m sorry. I know I’m interesting.” Gotta love that girl!

Samantha Grace is the author of several Regency romance novels. Lady Vivian Defies a Duke (released May 7th) is the final installment of her Beau Monde Bachelor series. Publisher’s Weekly describes her stories as “fresh and romantic” with subtle humor and charm. She writes what she enjoys reading: romantic comedies about family, friendship, and flawed characters who learn how to love deeply.

Samantha is a part-time hospice social worker, moonlighting author, and full time wife and mom. She enjoys life in the Midwest with her husband, two witty kids, and a multitude of characters that spring from her imagination.

To Connect with Samantha, you can find her at:

Samantha Grace Author | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Lady Scribes

In Pursuit of Perfect

You’re sitting there. Maybe you’re flipping through a magazine or scrolling through Facebook, or maybe you’re at the playground or a group lunch/dinner. You’re sitting there looking or listening, and everything is so…perfect. The women in the magazine are beautiful. Your friends on Facebook are having wonderful experiences, posting pictures of their beautiful families and fabulous vacations, sharing how blessed they are by a new job or home, by a golden friendship or the most amazing, romantic marriage, for some incredible success they’re having professionally, a fabulous review or promotion, a fat raise (or new contract). To the casual observer, you look normal, but inside you’re dying…dying. Because everywhere you look, Perfect is Blasting back at you. Except for when you look in the mirror. Then you see yourself, and the far from perfect reality of your life. And those negative thought start creeping in…you know the ones.

Social Media amplifies this, because so much of social media is a shout-out of greatest hits. We gush about what’s awesome. Fantastic. Amazing! Rarely do we admit to what’s not. Oh, I don’t mean the posts about having a headache or allergies or food poisoning, but the posts where we admit our fears and vulnerabilities. Where we talk about our nightmares, not our dreams.

But there you are, working through the reality of your life, while the barrage of Perfect! around you feels like one gut punch after another.  You want to be happy for your friends—you are—but at the same time, it becomes increasingly hard to feel comfortable in your own skin, when everyone else’s skin seems so-o-o much better. If I’m being honest, being real, here’s my truth:  I smile at the world—I keep that smile pasted so firmly in place—but behind it, way down deep, are all the dirty little secrets, the lifelong messages that play like a broken record through my mind: My legs are flabby. My stomach is too poochy. My butt is too big. The lines around my eyes make me look old. My mouth is too small. My eyelashes are too thin. My chest is too freckled. My house is disgracefully unclean.  My writing isn’t good enough, isn’t amazing. That I don’t have what it takes.  I’m not organized enough. I’m too selfish. I don’t volunteer enough. I’m not a good enough friend.  I’m invisible. I procrastinate too much. I’m not a good enough wife, mother…

On, and on, and on…

Those are my demons, and I fight them. I fight them hard, and finally, I think, after a lot of years and heartache, and a whole lotta love from some very special people, I’m making headway. I’m coming to realize—to accept—that PERFECT is an illusion. Sure there are perfect moments. Perfect days. Perfect chocolate chip cookies. But what I’m talking about is Perfect Everything. It doesn’t exist. It’s the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and like the rainbow, it’s always shifting. It dangles out there, tempting us, teasing…taunting, but no one ever really gets there—and anyone who puts on that they have is simply blowing smoke. They want you to think that, they want to think that, because they need it as desperately as everyone else. But it’s all smoke and mirrors…and that’s okay.

I look at my kids, my daughter especially, and I think about the truths I want to teach them, that real happiness comes from inside, that they are beautiful just the way they are, because beauty comes through smiles and grace and kindness, through love and compassion and forgiveness, from giving not getting. That the most amazing gifts are the simplest: laughter and hugs and wet, sloppy doggy kisses, the feel of the wind and the warmth of the sun, a walk through the woods, grass or sand between their toes, holding hands…  That there is no perfect weight, no magic number on the scale that suddenly is going to make life okay. That no one cares if your legs aren’t toned and tight, or if your mouth is small or freckles dot the bridge of your nose. No one is going to turn their back on your because you have thin eyelashes or are a size bigger than you’d like to be. That you’re not going to lose friends because your house is dirty (case in point: my daughter’s room is a disaster area…but seriously, I’m pretty sure that’s never cost her a friend!)  That life isn’t always sunshine and roses, that it can’t be, but that’s okay.  That as long as you have love in your heart, for yourself and those around you, as long you have compassion and empathy and forgiveness, as long as you do your best, everything’s going to be okay.

I have my demons, but if I have anything to say about it, they’ll never sneak up on my kids.

More on Mommy Guilt and Grief

Robyn’s post earlier this week really moved me, probably because I was thinking of writing something similar. I was going to write more about miscarriage, but here’s the truth about that topic–once you are a few years past it, the pain and all the feelings that go with it, fade. This is good news for those of you who have recently been through a miscarriage, though I’m sure everyone has told you that and it doesn’t make you feel any better about the loss you have just experienced.

After my miscarriage, there were days I was so resentful of mothers. I was a teacher, and I’d watch the parents of the kids I taught and think, they don’t appreciate their child. They don’t know how lucky they are to have such a wonderful little boy or girl. And I even thought that about the kids that drove me nuts.

So when I got pregnant with Baby Galen, you know I had every intention of cherishing her and every moment of motherhood. I would not take any of it for granted. And then she was born, and it was all wonderful for about 3 days. Then we took her home, and it was the worst 18 months of my life. I say this in all honesty. It was the darkest period in my life, and I have had some very dark times.

We moved out of the house we lived in when our daughter was born when she was about 18 months old, but we still live nearby. I drove past our old house yesterday, and even driving that street forms a pit of black yuck in my belly. Even if Baby Galen is sitting behind me, chatting happily, making me laugh, I drive that street and I cannot help but feel some of those same emotions of fear, depression, anxiety, despair. It all comes back.

I could say much of the awfulness of that time was due to the fact that Baby Galen was a very difficult baby. I could tell you stories…This was a baby who really didn’t want to be a baby. She didn’t want to be rocked, didn’t want to eat, didn’t want to sleep, didn’t want to lie on her back or on her tummy or her side, or sit in a stroller or a carseat or a playpen or a swing or…you get the idea. I don’t know what she wanted. I don’t think she knew what she wanted. She cried. A lot. I cried. A lot.

But the worst part if all of it–worse than being home alone with a baby who cried for seven hours, worse than being up four times a night for four months, worse than having a baby scream and meltdown every time you tried to feed her–was the guilt I felt. I hated my life. I hated it. I used to joke with my husband that I was running away to Mexico. It was sort of a halfhearted joke, because it took a lot of willpower on many occasions for me not to run away. What happened to cherishing motherhood? What happened to not taking a moment for granted? I just wanted this kid to grow up and go to school already (some days I still want that).

Everyone said, enjoy it now because it goes so fast. No, it didn’t. Every hour was like a day to me. I was trapped and unhappy and going slightly insane. Thank God I had help from friends and relatives. Thank God I went to the doctor and got some meds to help with the anxiety and depression. And thank God nothing lasts forever. Babies grow up. They become little kids who can tell you what they need, who sleep, who eat (sometimes independently), who make you laugh and even say, wow, this day has flown by!

And now I do try to cherish every day, but you know what, maybe that expectation was too lofty. We’re moms, not goddesses. We’re human.

Ever feel like you place unreal expectations on yourself as a mom and then feel guilty that you (a mere mortal) can’t attain them?

The grief no one talks about

It seems we’ve covered just about everything this month, talking about lost dreams with kiddos who have special needs and/or learning disabilities and lost babies through miscarriage. It’s been a tough month, but a great month. How wonderful that we have built a forum here where women can feel comfortable talking about our loss and grief and fears and moments of joy. This is what we wanted when we started this blog, but I can honestly say I never expected the kinds of responses we’ve received so thank you all for that.

But I wanted to talk about something today that it seems us women are seriously reluctant to talk about and in truth, I thought (when I was in the midst of the feelings) that it was just me, but I’ve come to learn that my feelings were all too common and it’s time for us to open up that can of proverbial worms. So I’m gonna be brutally honest with y’all, open up all the ugliness and it makes me nervous, but I have faith that you’ll all get it.

Now some of this I can’t speak to with any kind of authority because I’m an adoptive mom, I’ve never carried a child to term. But I’m going make a bold suggestion and say that those baby blues that people talk about…they’re not exclusively caused from hormones.

Let me explain. If you’ve followed the blog for long, you know that I literally became a mother over night. We had exactly 7 days to prepare our home for our two little girls and then suddenly they were there are my house, an infant and a toddler. We’d been through extensive training, I knew what to expect as far as possible problems with the girls, their adjustment, medical issues they could have, etc. I was as prepared as you can possibly be for all of the parenting issues, even the unique ones specific to our (then) foster-care situation. What I was not prepared for though was me and my own yuck coming to the surface.

I spent my entire adult life (and frankly some of my pre-adult life) wanting to get married and be a mom. Everyone who knew me knew that I wanted three things in life: be a wife, be a mother, be a writer. Two of those happened at nearly the same time, but as I mentioned in my previous blog, motherhood seemed an elusive dream, a butterfly I simply couldn’t catch. So imagine my shock when I didn’t settle into motherhood with grace and patience and well, joy. The fact was I’m not nearly as good at this as I thought I’d be. I’m more impatient, less tolerant, and less gentle than I expected. I love children and I especially love my children, but those early days (months) were dark – primarily for me.

I woke up in the mornings cringing and literally would look at the clock and count how many hours until naptime. I was terrified of being alone with them. And I was just miserable. Of course I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but what the hell? I wanted these kids, why was I so damn unhappy? And the tears, Good Lord, the tears, my poor husband didn’t know what the hell was going on. My mother was a life-saver because she would come over and let me nap and she helped so much with just the day-to-day care of the girls while I found my footing. I didn’t know what was going on, all I knew was that I was unhappy and the guilt because of that ate at me day and night.

And I was plagued with questions…had I made a huge mistake? I couldn’t give them back, my goodness those precious babies had already been through too much. But I didn’t feel like I was providing a better life for them, I felt like I was fumbling in the dark, trying to find the light switch. I took care of their basic needs and I cuddled them and then I would have to sneak away to the bathroom so I could cry. I felt like I had ruined our lives. My husband and I fought like crazy – something we just don’t do. He was miserable and had no idea what was going on with me.

It wasn’t until I came through all of that darkness that I could sit back and analyze it and call it for what it was. Grief. Nothing sexier than that, it was just plain old grief and I for one, suspect all parents go through it no matter how they make their families. I resented the girls and the fact that my husband and I couldn’t just go to the movies or even run to Target. I resented them because my writing life all but dried up and I felt like my career was over. It wasn’t really resentment though, I know that now, it was merely me going through the stages of grieving my old life, my old marriage, the old me. Life changes, as the saying goes and nothing changes it more than children. But no body talks about the fact that it’s okay to be sad about letting go of what was. It doesn’t make you love your kids any less to be irritated that you have to consider them and you can’t just run an errand on your own. It’s a huge adjustment and it takes a while to settle into the new you.

Now I’m not saying that post-pardum depression isn’t real, that’s a whole ‘nother ball of wax. What I am saying is that we all get those “baby blues” let’s just stop trying to think of cute terms to cover the feelings and talk about what it really is. Why should we have to silently feel guilty and wretched because we’re feeling something normal. Going through all of that didn’t make me a bad mom and it doesn’t make any of you a bad mom either.

So let’s talk about mommy grief. How was it for you? How did you get out of it? And did you recognize what it was when you were in the midst of it? 

What One Mother Has Learned About Grief and Loss

This month at Peanut Butter on the Keyboard, we’re talking about moms and loss and the grief that comes with it. But that’s not a bad thing or a sad thing.

It’s ironic, really, that talking about loss and grief can actually be uplifting. After reading Ellie’s poignant posts about her miscarriages, I felt so inspired. I want to be a coffee bean like Ellie. How can I give? How can I change the world through what I’ve learned? And same with Robyn’s post on having polycystic ovarian syndrome…she’s created such a good life in spite of her infertility. She’s an awesome mom, and she won’t let any sense of loss or grief deny her the joy she finds in her family.

As I was contemplating my own journey as a mom who’s experienced loss, I sat and tried to hold it close so I could write about it easier. But I’m having a hard time doing that…reliving the intensity of the anguish of expectations that didn’t come true. And I’m kind of glad. I’ve experienced a ton of loss as a mom–and terrible, wretched grief about it. But I’m at a new place. And it’s a place with a lot less fear because I already know the ending. That’s the beauty of becoming an older mom, I suppose. I already know that whatever happens to my children and to me as their mother, the love is there. It won’t die. It will be stronger than ever. Good will win.

In the long, long run, good always wins. I think that’s the most profound thing a person can learn, and I learned it through my experience as a mother.

I think back on the last 21 years—that’s how long I’ve had my son with mild Asperger’s Syndrome–and it’s been a real odyssey. I was afraid Nighthawk (that’s what I call him on this forum) would be ostracized as a child and a teen. Well, sometimes he was. I was afraid he’d be depressed about that. Yep—occasionally, he was! And I was afraid he’d be lonely, confused, and scared. Well, gosh darn it, he certainly was all three, many times.

The grief you feel as a mom to see your child hurting is excruciating, and I hid the depth of mine from everyone for so many years. What else can you do but move past all the incidents of hurt? You have to keep going. But I remember one particularly bad time when we were visiting friends in Spain. It was our last night there. Nighthawk was a teenager and his American cousin, a boy the same age as Nighthawk, was quietly invited over to a Spanish girl’s house—probably for a romantic goodbye–and Nighthawk was not, although he was her friend, too. He was visibly upset, both sad and angry. Usually, you hide when you’re hurt, especially in front of people you don’t know well, but Nighthawk didn’t. My brother took him aside and tried to explain to him the concept of being a “wingman:” yes, guys stick together, but if a special girl one of them likes enters the picture, the other guy understands and gladly steps back.

I tried to intervene, too, but there’s only so much a mom can do. It’s really up to your child to figure it out for himself. So while I watched Nighthawk try to process what had happened, I got through the rest of the awkward dinner with our Spanish friends with dignity and good cheer. I was a guest in this country, and I owed them that.

Even as I went back to my hotel with my sister, who was my roomie, I acted as if the hurt hadn’t happened. I pretended along with her that it was a beautiful night in a charming town in Spain. How often would experiences like this come along? She thought it was a kindness to me to forget the incident at dinner, so we tried for normalcy back at the room, laughing and talking, happy to be two sisters having a European adventure.

But I couldn’t sleep. I remember sitting up in bed and saying something like this to her: “What happened to Nighthawk was so painful to watch. And I’m tired of everyone just acting as if everything’s okay around me for the sake of moving on. My grief is real. I’ve been pretending for 17 years that I’m okay. But I’m not. And I’m scared that the hurt will never stop, for him or for me. I wonder how we’ll endure.”

That moment was a turning point for me. My despair, my sadness, all had its roots in being afraid. I wasn’t sure that I could handle the truth.

But here is that truth: my son wears his heart on his sleeve. He doesn’t have the instinctive social filter he needs to protect himself. He’s not sophisticated and never will be. He’s smart, though, and through a lot of practice, he can learn to navigate the world. He’s come such a long way already—he’s a junior in college now, he speaks several languages, he has friends and a part-time job. Embittered people sometimes use his vulnerability to entertain themselves. The kind ones are wonderful—helpful, friendly, and loving. But Nighthawk won’t always be around kind people. Perhaps more than the average Joe, he may get hurt, over and over, for the rest of his life.

This is not what I wanted for my boy when I birthed him.

When you’re low—truly low—you have two choices: to actually embrace what scares you or to hide from it. If you choose the former, you choose to live. If you choose the latter, you die inside.

And when you choose to live your truth, the big miracle is that strength and peace just come. In abundance! Some people call it grace. Some call it God. All I know is that since that night in Spain, I am living wholly. And those fears I faced—aloud in the presence of my sister—lost their power.

Those damned expectations I had the day I held Nighthawk in my arms for the first time as a newborn baby…well, they were phantom dreams that held me back from living my real life. They kept me from seeing vividly, every day, that I can celebrate the fact that my son is living his truth with courage, humor, and compassion. He’s a walking testament to the power of love and what it can do in a person’s life.

So this is why I’m in a new place. Sure, I know bad things can happen to Nighthawk, to me, to my family, my friends, and to the world. But I’ve experienced utter despair. I have used that power in me—whatever you want to call it–to stare down the fear, to somehow turn myself, despite all odds—like a rusty, stripped screw–from denial to reality.

And each day, I remind myself that the power that turned me is there. I call it Love. It’s truth and grace and God…it’s all that’s left in us when we think we’re empty. So in a way, I’m glad I’ve been reduced. I’m glad I know pain. I’m blessed to be the mother of Nighthawk, and I wouldn’t change a single bit of our path. To be fully alive, you have to be where you are. Not settling—no, indeed, we must fight hard sometimes to make things right—but having faith that truth will lead us to the place of peace and power inside us that allows us not only to survive but thrive.

That’s all I have to offer the world. That’s me being a coffee bean. I hope I’ve brought you hope—the way Ellie and Robyn have brought me hope. We’re meant to share it.

Every mom has had to witness her child’s pain. We tend to make it our own, don’t we? And every mother deals with expectations that didn’t come true. I’d love to know how you handle yours, if you’re willing to share. XOXO

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Hi, I’m Kieran. My family loves music and anything that makes us laugh out loud. Along with Chuck, my husband of 23 years, I try to teach our kids that we have to actively choose happiness–and if I accomplish nothing else as a mom but pass that one lesson along to them, then I think I’ve done my job.

My oldest guy, Nighthawk, was diagnosed in kindergarten with Asperger’s syndrome, and now he’s a junior in college; his sister Indie Girl, who’s younger by 16 months, is a college sophomore; and my youngest, Dragon, is in ninth grade. For our family, it’s about managing your weaknesses and wringing everything you can get out of your strengths. And along the way, finding joy.

www.kierankramerbooks.com

If You Take Your Kids to the Store to Buy Milk

The other day I decided to take all three kids to the store. By myself. Well, I needed some things and it seemed the most efficient way to get it done. It seemed like it. I was wrong. The whole experience somehow reminded me of the popular children’s books “If You Give a (insert animal) a (insert baked good)”

And I created my own story. To amuse myself while I dragged them all through the store at the detriment to my mental and physical health.

Ahem. Here it is:

If you take your kids to the store to buy milk…

They’s going to be little displays of tempting things kids want everywhere.

They’re going to ask you for some toys.

When you choose the toys, you’ll realize they don’t come with batteries.

When you go to buy the batteries you’ll pass the cereal.

When the kids see the cereal they’ll want to pick some!

They’ll each want a different kind.

When you get all the cereal in your cart and continue on to the batteries, your youngest will have a meltdown about something silly.

When a passerby sees your youngest having a meltdown over something silly, they’ll look at you like you’re a terrible person.

Having a stranger look at you like you’re a terrible person will remind you of the pile of laundry sitting in your room.

Thinking of the pile of laundry sitting in your room will remind you that you need to get laundry detergent.

You’ll realize you forgot the #(*)*$% batteries.

You’ll turn around and head back toward the batteries.

On the way there your middle child will throw a fit over something stupid.

Someone will look at you like you’re a horrible person.

Being looked at like you’re a horrible person will remind you that you also need to buy your kids socks so they don’t have to have bare feet under their shoes anymore because they lost them all (not that I do that…who would do that?)

So you have to back track to socks.

After back tracking to socks you close the loop and go to check out. But you grab the batteries first.

Going to check out reminds the oldest child that he has yet to panic about anything. He decides to get upset that you didn’t buy him a watch.

Seeing their older sibling get upset will remind the other two that they need to cry too.

After you make it through check out, and make it home, you’ll have the kids help you unload the car. Unloading the car will make them thirsty. They’ll ask for some milk.

And chances are, if you went to the store with your kids to buy milk…it’s the one thing you’ll come home without.

Guest mom: Rhonda Peyton (Robyn’s sister!)

This is Robyn and today we have a super special guest blogger…it’s my older sister, Rhonda. I asked her to guest blog today because we’re getting close to summer vacation time and she’s a veritable expert on traveling with children regardless of their age. So without further ado…I give you my sister…

My name is Rhonda, I am the mother of 2, married to my best friend and and we have been traveling across America together for the past 20 years. As I look back on our travels I realize that not only did we travel well with young children, but have given our kids, now 20 and 18, a love for the great Road Trip. In part, passed onto me from my own childhood.

Here are the trips we’ve taken over the last 18 years.

Disney World (flew) ages 2&4
Washington DC. 3&5
W.Virginia 4&6
Florida 5&7
Colorado 6&8
Mississippi/New Orleans 7&9
Big Bend, TX 8&10
St. Louis, MO 9&11
Disney World (flew) 10&12
Tennessee 11&13
St. Louis/Chicago, IL (drove/Amtrak) 12&14
Mt. Rushmore 13$15
NY/Niagara Falls/DC. 14&16
Tennessee 14&16
California/Las Vegas/New Mexico 15&17
Wisconsin/St. Louis 16&18
Big Bend, TX 18&20
Beach trips (10 or more times) from the age of 2 and up. Corpus Christi, Galveston, Padre Island, Bolivar (all beaches in TX)

TRANSPORTATION: 5 different vans, Taurus, Suburban, Highlander, steam engine, Amtrak, subway, taxi, trolly, bus, fairy, boat and airplane.

FOOD: White table-cloth steak houses, Triple D diners, local dives, fast-food and chains.

AMUSEMENT PARKS:  Six Flags, Astroworld, Sea World, Fiesta Texas, Busch Gardens & Disney World.

ZOOS: Amarillo, TX; Ft. Worth, TX, Houston, TX, San Antonio, TX; Waco, TX; DC.; St. Louis, MO

AQUARIUMS: Corpus Christi, TX; Moody Gardens (TX); Chattanooga, TN; DC.

OTHER SIGHTS: Museums, mounments,bridges, national parks.

CAR TUNES: Joe Scruggs, Veggie Tales, various vbs, Toby Keith, George Straight, Beach Boys, WOW’s, oldies, and music from multiple shows we were in or saw.

Each time we decided on our next destination, I began the research. I think making as detailed of plan as possible is the key to having a successful and enjoyable trip. I would divide the miles to be traveled by the hours and then begin preparing my 2 lists:  the 1st list was of items we always traveled with and the 2nd list would be more specific to the particular trip at hand.

Usual list 1: gallon ziplock bags,mileage bags, cd’s, addresses & stamps, first aid, wet wipes, towels, travel cups, snacks,box of sandwich bags, books on tape, swim suits, cooler with drinks, receipt envelope, window shades, travel boxes….

Gallon bags : these I used to pack the kids clothes in. Each bag had the childs name on it and date to be worn. This helped when planning which clothes were for traveling (for comfort) , which were for parks, museums, the White House or meeting famous people like senators or Mickey Mouse! Packing in ziplocks also helped save room (like space saver bags) and made for a great way to store dirty clothes separate from clean, by putting them back in the same bag they came in. (Great for wet swim suits too)

Mileage bags: these were life-savers when traveling with small children. I used small paper bags, each numbered and labeled with kids name. Each bag usually contained 3 items : a snack (animal cookies, fruit snacks…) an activity (crayons & book, silly puddy, wipe off  bd,paper dolls, stickers…) and a character for pretending (action figure, small stuffed toy). I would divide the miles we were going to travel into small sections, like about every 90 to 120 miles and then the kids would get their bag. This helped pass the time, and taught them about mile-markers and time of travel.

CD’s : music we All liked as a family that we could sing to….without judgement.

Sandwich bags: were for all the treasures we would find during our stops and a sharpie so I could label each bag so we knew whose treasures they were and where they came from.

Travel boxes: each kid had a plastic box with a lid that could hold all their travel needs and double as a desk. This helped things not get lost, and not be so cluttered in the back seat.

Being a stay home mom with a 1 income (educator’s salary) we were usually on a tight budget, so we found ways to enjoy our trips without spending too much, especially on the traveling days. I did however, research the trip and area we would be in so if we were going to be near a park or a specific interest of 1 of ours….like my son went thru a phase where he was interested in bridges. Well when I did research I found all kinds of bridges we would have missed had I not been looking. Seeing these extras didn’t add much time to the trip and were free! Maybe you are going to be near a famous persons place, in history, like Billy the Kid or Laura Wilder. Just do a search for interest that are near where you will be traveling.

A typical, long travel day for us would have looked something like this…we packed the car the night before and had everything ready for departure, so when we woke them up all they had to do was get dressed and we would each grab our travel cups. We would leave as early as possible, before breakfast, so that we could get as many miles as possible behind us before stopping for breakfast. I know fast-food is not the healthy choice, but we would look for a stop that had one of those indoor playgrounds, this way we could eat while they played and then we would all visit the restrooms and bring any of the kids breakfast with us when we left. When we got back into the car the kids would eat and then they would get their first mileage bag. We would just talk and let the kids get the most out of their 1st mileage bag…we wanted it to entertain them for long as it could. We would then play a book on tape, music or play a car game to pass the time. ( ie… Car bingo, alphabet game.)

Our kids did not have a movie playing device for the car until they were 10 & 12, so we had to use what we had to entertain them. We tried to plan our lunch by packing one with us or we would stop and pick something up and head to the nearest park or rest area. We tried to go somewhere outside so that they could walk around and get some exercise. This is when we would use the little ziplock bags and let each kid pick up some ” treasures” rocks, acorns, a leaf….the point was to get some moving in, so that just maybe they would nap when we got back on the road. After lunch and hopefully a nap we would sometimes look for another indoor playground stop, we could get a drink, maybe a small cone, the kids could play and of course we would all go to the restroom before loading back up. The kids always knew that these stops would be short, so they were prepared for us to give them the 5 min warning and they seemed fine with it. 10 – 20 min went a long way in helping the weary traveling kid, and helping them…..helped us!

On travel days we always tried to stay in a hotel that had 3 things in common: cheap, free breakfast and a POOL! We would try to get to the hotel with enough time for us to swim, for at least 30 minutes. Swimming is great for tired, stiff muscles that have been sitting in a car all day and it makes for a great nights sleep. We liked to go out to dinner to a place with the “local” flavor. If time permitted, we would try and swim in the morning too, this would cause us to have a later start on morning 2. When scheduling our trip we tried to have our heaviest travel day on day 1 so that day 2 could be lighter. If we had several days of travel in front of us then we often alternated long then short travel days.

We have traveled 35 of the 50 states, we even had one of our new teenage drivers get his driving hours in 25 of those states. We have seen the Grand Canyon, Pala Duro canyon, the white sands desert, Hoover Dam, Niagara Falls,the Statue of Liberty, the Washington Monument, the giant red woods, the Gulf of Mexico, the Atlantic and the Pacific, Crater Lake and a great lake, the mountains of Colorado, the Smokies in Tennessee and all the plains in between….memories for a lifetime

My advice, make your trips as personal as you can, for your family. Maybe you and your family like a specific food show, make a list of places and dishes you would like to try. Maybe architecture is interesting or battlefields, maybe courthouses, Route 66 , national monuments or windmills…..whatever your family finds interesting will add to your family trips. When crossing state lines stop at the welcome centers, they have clean restrooms, complimentary maps, information about state wide attractions and often a state-themed activity book for kids. Just do your homework so you know how much things cost, so you can plan for it. Be prepared for plans to change due to unforeseen things that Will come up. Rain closed an attraction, sick kids, car trouble….we have sat on the side of the road and played cards or gone to a movie because of a rained out attraction. Don’t let things outside of your control ruin your trip, you are making memories…make them good ones!

Souvenirs. We did like to buy post cards to send to family, friends, teachers…we helped the kids write them until they were old enough to do it themselves. We sent them to a variety of people depending on when and where we went. Our souvenirs were not always the same but we did have some usuals. I like coffee mugs & christmas ornaments, my daughter liked bells or playing cards my son liked things that were specific to the trip, sometimes both son and husband got hats. We also liked getting music from someone we had seen on our trip or a soundtrack from a musical or show that we got to see. We tried to keep them to small items, with a few exceptions…like the walking stick my son had to have and has traveled with us to every park since. He has it with us on this trip we are currently taking to Big Bend and we are also listening to our soundtract from Grease that we got to see on Broadway.

We have a shell luggage carrier we put on top of our car, so that everything inside the car is for traveling purpose and that gives us a lot more room. The luggage carrier makes our vehicle look like a turtle and so that is what we call it, it also makes it easy to find in a crowded parking lot. As we take this trip to Big Bend and plan for a summer wedding trip to Gatlinberg, I am mindful that any of these trips could be the last “family” trip we take. My kids will both be in college next year and our lives are changing daily. I cherish the travels and adventures we have had and look forward to getting postcards from them when they travel with their own families some day. I wish you safe and happy travels, now go make some memories!

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Rhonda Peyton is a wife and mother. She’s a former Dance Team instructor and taught high school for ten years. She’s the sister of the fabulously famous Robyn DeHart.

Crappy Book Winner

Thank you so much to everyone who stopped by to comment on Amber Dusick’s post and also thank you to Amber for taking the time to visit us.

The randomly chosen winner of Amber Dusick’s novel Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures is Kim! Check your inbox, Kim.

If you didn’t win, don’t forget the book is available for pre-order now and will be on sale March 26!

A short blog to go with the giveaway post.

I once read that children have behavioral ups and downs every six months. Six months of a happy, easy child will be followed by six months or a cranky, difficult, unhappy child. The writer speculated it had something to do with growth and development. I feel like Baby Galen must grow more than other kids because she usually follows one week of easygoing behavior with three weeks of difficult behavior.

For some reason, I am always surprised when the difficult behavior returns. I quickly get used to the easygoing Baby Galen. But just as soon as I think, I kind of like this parenting thing, her head starts spinning around again.

Bottom line? Parenting is hard. But like anything else that’s tough, the rewards make the hard work worth it.

I Wrote a Book With Two Kids At Home by Amber Dusick (from Crappy Pictures!)

I wrote a book with two little kids at home and I survived. Barely.

This is how I did it.

Late at night, fueled by pints of ice cream. The kids were asleep so the only distraction I had was Crappy Cat stepping on my keyboard. He loves the delete key and is super skilled at pressing it.

Of course since the kids were asleep it technically meant that I was supposed to be asleep too. Which I wasn’t. Which meant I was tired. Always.

I did learn a few very important things along the way though.

1. Backing up a manuscript isn’t a good idea. It isn’t a great idea. It isn’t an idea at all. It is a requirement. It must be done. It should be #1 in “book writing 101″ classes. (Maybe it already is. I don’t know, I never took that class. Is there a class?) Anyway, I lost a handful of pages before I learned this lesson. Those pages that I lost were the best, most funniest thing I have ever written and had I backed them up I’d be rich and famous and living in a mansion with a hot tub in every room. Instead, I don’t have a mansion or even a single hot tub. See? Not backing up will ruin your life.

2. Haagen-Dazs® chocolate ice cream is too darn hard. It doesn’t ever seem to melt. You have to leave that one out for a good 20 minutes before digging in. Which is basically impossible to do so I stopped buying it. Ben & Jerry’s chocolate chip cookie dough and half baked are also way too distracting to eat while writing. You spend too much time digging for the little dough or brownie nuggets. Stick with the simple flavors like chocolate, strawberry and mint chip. Those are writing-friendly flavors. I told you these were important things. You’re welcome.

3. Did I say I learned “a few” things? I should change that to “a couple” things. Whatever. You know what I mean.

Honestly, I can’t remember much.

I do remember telling myself that “I will never, ever, ever do this again” but I can’t for the life of me remember why I would feel that way. It wasn’t so bad. Was it?

I should probably try it again just to make sure.

Or maybe this is just an excuse to eat ice cream.

Amber Dusick’s novel Parenting: Illustrated with Crappy Pictures is available for pre-order now and will be on sale March 26!
Want a copy? One person who comments today will win a copy, courtesy of the PBKMoms!

You can find Amber Dusick blogging at Parenting. Illustrated with Crappy Pictures.

A Letter To My Daughter

You are beautiful. Not just on the outside, but on all your sides. And there will be a lot of people who say you aren’t. That’s because they feel bad about themselves. Or maybe because their mom didn’t tell them they were beautiful. I don’t know. But I know that what they say doesn’t change the truth. And that is that you’re fearfully and wonderfully made. That God took great delight in fashioning you, and that you are utter perfection, to him and to me.

You don’t have to fit into a box. You don’t have to be one thing. Be a superhero. And be a princess.

You were made to be great. You’ve been given dreams and talents so that you’ll follow them, use them. Your gifts are yours alone, and if you don’t use them, no one else in the world can, not quite like you. So make a splash with them. Share them. Spread them all over like glitter that the world will never be able to wash off (you know how glitter is.)

Friends are wonderful gifts. Some of your friends will last all of your life, and some of them for only a short time. That’s okay. It’s part of life. It’s part of growing. Losing friends is hard, especially to those Jr High and High School type situations. The ones where they say mean things and make you feel like you fail at life all because they won’t be your friend anymore. But you’ll make new friends. Better friends.

You’ll worry about boys for the rest of your life. So start as late as you can. Play with dolls. Play with stuffed animals. Play in the dirt with your brothers. Play fetch with your dog. Wear striped leggings and a polka dot dress because you want to, and don’t worry about what anyone thinks.

Speaking of boys, the boys in high school aren’t worth your time. Trust me on this. I know you’re going to waste time on them anyway, but I consider it my duty to tell you: they aren’t done baking yet. They’re going to be frogs for a few more years, no matter how many times you kiss them. My advice is to just hold off on kissing them. Make them come to you a prince already. Because heaven knows, you’re a princess.

Confidence is beautiful, don’t let insecure people tell you differently. Believe in yourself. And when you can’t, know that me, and your dad, and your brothers, and uncle and grandparents, will be behind you believing in you for you.

Stand firm in your convictions. Your friends might make fun of you, but that’s okay. If you know who you are, and what you want. Don’t let other people change you into the version of you they’re most comfortable with. Be the you that you want to be, and blaze the trail down your own path.

Tell me everything. I promise not to get mad. Well, I promise to keep my blow-up short and sweet, and then have a meaningful conversation with you. But I’d rather know what you’re doing, than be kept in the dark. I’d rather be able to support you, than let you go through something alone. Even if I don’t agree with your choices. Because no matter what, I’m on your side.

Toilet papering houses is great. Filling a boy’s car with balloons and saran wrapping it shut is better. (because no matter what I say, you’ll like those dumb high school boys. So you might as well torment them a little. I’ll probably drive the getaway car. My mom did it for me.) Learn to laugh at yourself. Spin around in open fields of grass. Look at the stars. Read books under the covers with a flashlight.

Be fierce. Be independent. Be whatever you want to be. As someone once said: Don’t be like the rest of them, darling.

And know that when I look at you, I’ll always see the baby you were. The girl you are. The woman you’ll be. And that I love you.