Happy Halloween!

Since I'm busy prepping for the Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Party...



(I know! Like, how messy is my kitchen? And, I still have 75 mummy dogs to make, 50 cupcakes to ice, and an entire basement to vacuum. Anyone wanna lend a hand? Anyone? Anyone?)

combing through the Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Photo Contest Entries (even though you still have until midnight tonight to enter!)...


From Kerri @ I'm Just Sayin...


And, from BJ Mama @ For What It's Worth...Or Not!

(They are pouring in now that all time for procrastination is gone.)

and trying to get everyone to look dashing in their costumes...



(As if! I'm easy to please, though. If everyone is wearing the costume and it's not torn, blood stained, or otherwise completely ruined, I'm good.)

we are gonna skip this week's Saturday Swag-urday post:(!

I know. I know. Try to contain your grief, we'll be back at it next week with some super smart gift ideas from your favorite Dumb Mom.

And, don't forget to send over your entries while there's still time!

Even if you fail to get your stuff together enough to submit a photo of your little Halloweener, be sure to come back Monday to see all of the Happily (un)Haunted entries and to vote for your fave.

It'll be a scream!

All Hallows Eve Eve

Yesterday was HUGE at #1's school.

Maybe not huge as in OMG!-parentingbydummies-is-coming-today-to-sign-autographs huge, but still pretty dang huge.

The whole town was there.

Or, at least every parent of every kid who ever went there was there.

Seriously. Couldn't even get into the parking lot!



Why?

Because it was the annual Halloween parade!



Big hero (#1) was outfitted in his Wolverine get up...



Medium hero (#2) and Little hero (#3) were there too to partake in the festivities...



And, there were some pretty, um...interesting costumes.

A Lego...



A jellyfish...



A table setting?...



And a...Pimp?!



But, all of those pale in comparison to the wonderful, newest entries into the soon-to-be-famous parenting BY dummies Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Photo Contest.

Like...



From Teresha at Marlie and Me.

And this one from MamaB @ Peanut Butter in My Hair, and Hawchy Tap (#3's way of saying Holy Crap, which is SO innapropriate, but too freakin' cute) she made it!




Now, mooooove on down a bit and enjoy these two farm fresh cuties entered by Courtney D.



Or, here's another happy little garden dweller submitted by Ms. Betsy B. Honest from Honest to Betsy.



And, seriously, who doesn't love a cute baby monkey. Weirdos. That's who. But, me, and probably you, are gonna love Malanda's little cutie. See...



So, before I bid you farewell, Mrs. D's little dude and I have a bone to pick with you readers...



Why haven't you submitted your photos yet?

For reals. Talk about waiting till the last minute!

Geez.

Don't you like free stuff?

Don't you want the world (and by world I mean the 18 readers that may or may not read my blog on any given day) to see how ca-ute your little munchkin is?

Didn't you like being bribed (by the way, Mary from Hurricane Riley and his Big Brother Rex was all about being bribed, which is why she won the UPrinting postcards!)?

Seriously, if you don;t hurry up and get those entries over here I'm gonna have to sick Autumn's (from Monsters in My House) spooky ookies on you.





And, yes, you should be scurd!

Now That's Spooky

You wanna see something spooky, Mama K?

I'll give you spooky...



Any of you science nerds out there wanna try to tell us lay people what that is?

Don't bother Googleing it, I'll tell you what it is.

That, my completely-confused-but-undeniably-intrigued friends, is a picture of little brown dirties, in the form of influenza, invading the cilia of a human lung. *SHRIEK!*

I know, right?!

How disgusting is that?

Very.

That's how...Very disgusting.

And, it's what I'm deathly afraid is going to happen to the dudes this winter.

And, I don't know quite what to do about it.

I'm not a huge fan of giving the them unnecessary medication (like when the doc told me to give #3 Benadryl every day).

Nor do I like to get them shots (I do fully support routine vaccinations though) any more than the next mom enjoys watching her kids in pain and acting like they're dying (it is kinda funny to witness all the dramatics #2 puts on when it's inoculation time, but I do feel bad. No, really, I do.).

But, the flu and I, we go way back. Those microscopic instruments of death were responsible for #1's first trip to the ER when he was less than a year old.

And, they can also be blamed for his next two trips to that same locale including the time he projectile vomited all over Mimi in the waiting room (all of a sudden, after waiting 2 hours, a room freed up and we were ushered into a cubicle. Nothing gets action like projectile emesis spewed all over innocent bystanders and their friends!).

But, our worst, most horrifying experience with the flu fiends to date occurred when Hubby was away and #1 was 2 and a half years old. Let's just say his flu related illness was responsible for a febrile seizure that required CPR, two ambulance trips, and Hubby to run out of a wedding (at which he was the best man, incidentally) and hop a plane back to the East Coast.

Not. Cool, flu.

We have been flu vaccine protected every year since and we've not had an issue (knock on wood!)

I've considered not doing it, but since it's working out so well for us I'm afraid to stop and jinx our good luck.

So, we get the shot (or the mist) every year and we're happy.

But, this year I have something new to consider: Swine flu, H1N1, or whatever we're calling it now (personally, I call it The Swine, I think it has a nice ring to it).

Do we get the shot or don't we?

I think I'm largely decided that #2 and #3 will NOT get the shot.

Don't want them growing a third eye or losing the ability to speak in complete sentences when they're older (although, from what I hear, this will happen regardless once they hit about age 15).

But, #1, he's another story entirely.

He has asthma.

Viral induced asthma. Meaning when he gets invaded by upper respiratory dwelling baddies, he gets all effed up.

This condition puts him on the endangered list (or whatever they call it) and pretty much guarantees that should some of the protected elixir (you know this stuff is ridiculously hard to come by) come available he'll be one of the first to be offered it.

But, the question is, when it's offered, should we accept?

I just don't know.

Taking a drug that has not been tested longitudinally (how you like that big word?!) makes me, um...uneasy.

It's like all those people who bought the first generation iPhones...

They were all ticked off when they didn't work all that great and stuff was breaking and malfunctioning and crap like that.

This could go the same way, right?!

You know, he gets the secret sauce, and a coupla years from now he grows a third ear in the back of his head. I mean, maybe he'll be able to grow his hair out to cover it, or they might be able to lop it off, but still, it's not ideal.

I'd rather wait, see if any third ears grow, and then decide.

But, on the other side, what if we pass, and he gets IT? Then what?

It would be my fault.

And, it could be really bad.

Or not.

I just don't know.

And, that's what makes this whole thing so spooky.

Spooky enough to earn this week's Thursday Thank You.



To super evil super germs everywhere, thank you, and you're welcome.

Dear Super Evil Super Germs,
Thank you for lying in wait around every corner, on seemingly innocuous surfaces, up friends' noses, on playmates paws and every single other place you can possibly squeeze yourself into, so that you may sneak into the largely unguarded system of my young children. The fact that they are not the cleanest creatures on the planet, coupled with the fact that you maniacs are invisible to the naked eye and you just won't die poses a huge health risk for my dudes. And, for that I hate you. Please consider not mutating further. You've done enough. Thanks. XOXO, Dumb Mom

*I've decided not to waste time actually handwriting this one, they just don't deserve it, you know, since they're plotting to kill us all. But, I Super Evil Super Germs, I'm armed with an industrial sized bottle of hand sanitizer and I take it with me, in my over sized handbag, wherever I go. So, in yo face with a can of mace hand sanitizer.

Wordful (Ghosts of Halloween Past) Wednesday

I LOVE Halloween.

It hasn't always been my favorite holiday (I used to be all about my fat, red wearing homeboy), but having the dudes around makes it so much fun.

I think it's the only time of the year that I feel like dressing a boy is fun.

It seems that they have so much more variety in costume choices, at least compared to how I was growing up.

My mom must've been so bored because I really just wanted to be the same thing I was every other day of the year: a princess.

I mean, she talked me into changing it up a little a few years (I remember a very good witch costume and Oscar the Grouch), but for the most part, all I really wanted was a pretty dress and some shiny shoes, maybe throw in a wand and/or a tiara, and I was good.

Really, you could just smear on some lipstick (and pick out my afro) and I considered myself dressed up (some things never change!)...



But, the dudes...

They are so much more versatile!

They've been animals (we like to recycle our costumes),





They've been heroes,



They've been ninjas and wizards,



And Jedi knights,



The only thing they haven't ever been is super.

Looks like they've got that covered though this year!



Visit Seven Clown Circus for more Wordful Wednesday posts and to participate in this super cool writing carnival hosted by Angie, Mama Kat, Mayhem and Moxie, and Better in Bulk.

And, the Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Photo Contest is still raging on. Want to enter your little Halloween haunter? Click here for contest details!

A Happily (un) Haunted Party

I'm sensing a theme here, how 'bout you?!

Yep, we really are having the 2nd Annual Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Party @ Casa de Dummies this Saturday and you're all invited!

Sike!

Pu-leez! I'm nice (okay, I'm sorta nice), but I'm not that nice!

I'd love to have you all over another time, though. Right after I win the lotto, buy a huge mansion in the Hollywood Hills, and have an entire staff of chefs, maids, and party planning geniuses on hand to take care of it.

Then I'll throw a funky-fresh shin dig and invite each and every one of you 402 followers (and other skulkers who I know come here to read, but for whatever reason don't like to leave comments or follow so that I can actively stalk you back) who have been with me from the beginning (or shortly thereafter).

Sadly though, it's just me, Dumb Mom, no waiters, no maids, no award winning chefs. All I have at my disposable is a handful of dude-made decorations (see above), a few fun costumes, and BFF, party planner extraordinaire.

That's right, I have a party planner.

And, she's sorta awesome.

But, she doesn't have a full wait staff, an accomplished kitchen crew, or people to set up and tear down the awesomeness she creates.

Maybe one day.

But, not today.

Which means that all of her amazing ideas require her (and me, unfortunately) to endure back breaking, time consuming, the-end-product-is-da-bomb-and-you-better-recognize type of work.

So, needless to say all of my Blog Land buds are not on the guest list IRL, but don't fret you will get to experience the awesomeness through the blog (and eventually through her blog as well once I quit holding all of the photos hostage so she can launch the darn thing).

Let's get this party stared by sharing the invitations she made.



Are they not the cutest, (un)haunted little things?

Feel free to be jealous, I'm totally used to it by now.

But, let's not get carried away with that. I need some help coming up with the menu and jealous people are unhelpful people.

So... If you're over it, any slightly-envious-creative-masterminds want to share some easy-for-a-Dumb-Mom tricks and treats to make a party (with 23 children on the guest list!) even more Happily (un)Haunted?

Anyone?

Anyone?

Bueller....?

Saturday Swag-urday: Vegas Edition

I know, you've missed me and my buy-this-if-you-wanna-be-the-best-Santa-impersonator-eva Ultimate Bomb Diggity Gift Giving Guide.

But, I was doing some research (aka snapping pics all incognito like at FAO Schwartz in Vegas) to bring you a more hands-on, real life, in the trenches type post.

And, I think you'll be quite pleased with the results since I was able to capture, on film whatever digital cameras use for capturing, each of the items I'm recommending this week.

I held them.

I smelled them.

I looked aghast at the prices (honestly, is FAO Schwartz for real with that?!).

And I'm back now to share my findings with you!

Lucky!

But, lemme back up a bit and explain the theme of this week's post to you a bit.

This week we are talking about lovies, blankies, sweeties, babies, whatever you call those attachment objects your kid likes to drag all over town and leave in random places.

At Casa de Dummies, we call ours buddies.

All the dudes have one (or two) and they always have.

All of them were given their little buddies at birth and have slobbed them down nightly since the only-let-your-child-sleep-on-a-bare-mattress mandate was lifted.

#1 got Mr. Sweatskins (long story, don't ask) at the hospital...



#2 got Buddy before he was even born...



#3 received Bully for a gift at his baby shower, and Baby (the one-eyed hottie in pink) was adopted from #2 just recently and has become an integral part of his go to bed audience...






I'm a firm believer in teaching them to love these inanimate objects.

Firm.

They've never been out-on-the-town draggers, but they have all been known to insist (and by insist I mean go buck raving mad should their Buddy be accidentally left at Mimi's house) their "beddy buddies" be present and accounted for each night before they close their eyes.

I just feel like they really do fill a void that would otherwise require me to snuggle them to sleep each night and I'm more of a peace-out-dude-see-you-in-the-am kinda tucker-iner.

I don't like to linger or pat or reassure a hundred times, and my kids are so buddy trained that they don't require that.

All they need is their buddies, their blankies (tucked and pulled exactly right), and their night lights, followed by a quick hug, and I'm out.

So, today's post is a look at buddies that you might want to train your child to love (believe me, if you're one of those takes-an-hour-to-get-the-kid-to-sleep kinda moms, you'll thank me for this suggestion when your little one is wrapped tightly around their new buddy and you're wrapped tightly around a martini and your TV remote).

And, if "Santa" brings one of these little guys, maybe your little believer will be even more inclined to take the bait.

There are so many cute ones out there now I'm thinking of chucking Bully out the window (he smells so ripe at the moment I'm afraid he's a bit of a health hazard, but I don't wanna wash off his essence) and replacing him with one of these fellas.

Ugly Dolls. So stinkin' ugly they're cute, right?!



Or, check out the Deglingos! Is there something cuter than a scantily clad rat?



Love these? They have shoes, too! Check out Haute Lava for all of the super nutty designs!

And, what about this creepy dude from BeeOdd?! Odd looks pretty awesome.



Here's one from my FAVORITE sock makers, Little Miss Matched, called a Knitwit. I know all of you savvy-with-a-needle mama's could probably whip something like this up in no time, but for those of us who can't even work a crayon correctly, this is CA-UTE!



And, if all else fails. There's always an old standby. A familiar sidekick from days gone by...



Yes, friends, it's a Monchichi and you know you loved them when you were little. I mean, how could you not love something that made thumb sucking an acceptable part of society?

Happy shopping!

Where's the Beef?

I've got some fresh beef today.

I know, big surprise...Dumb Mom is ticked off about something. Big whoop!

But, I have to get it offa my chest.

It's the only thing I can do to prevent embarrassment for myself and my children.

I have to lodge a formal complaint against a couple of moms at my bus stop.

Micromanaging Mom. She is the one who is constantly ear hustling (aka eavesdropping) on her kids' conversations and interjecting herself into each of their interactions.

I'm sure we all know this person. She is the one who uses "actually" WAY too much and is constantly correcting every little detail my kid relates inaccurately, but somehow lets the fact that her kid just said the bus is 60 minutes late (I mean really? 60 minutes?) slip by unattacked.

Our resident version of this soothsayer is the worst when it comes to the games the kids play at the bus stop.

She's constantly with her directives and suggestions, "You can't stay on base the whole time, silly, that's a lot like cheating!" (only, it's not cheating and you're just ticked b/c my kid runs like a rocket and yours is slower than a bottle of frozen syrup), or "Why don't you all work together to tag him, so he doesn't have to do it alone?" (or, we could not do that since isn't that the very definition of being it? Sorta defeats the purpose if we do things your stupid head way), or my most favorite, "Jamie likes to be first, so why don't you let him go first today?" (and how is that different from every other day? Jamie is ALWAYS effing first).

I just think she's making things so much harder on her kid (and mine) than necessary.

And, the whole thing about it is that the kid seriously looks like Gene Wilder so the cards are stacked against him in the first place. He really needs to develop his personality and confidence if he's gonna get anywhere in this world and she is making it totally impossible for him to do that.

The other major bus stop baddie is Cootie Cat Shorts Mom.

This lady is an animal.

A trampy, hungover, do-you-honestly-not-even-own-a-pair-of-underwear, animal that trots her saggy booty to the bus each morning commando style in her too short shorts where she then proceeds to visually assaults us all.

I used to get all ticked because I thought she was lazy for driving to the stop (I mean, we live very near to each other and I walk, and I have two little ones to drag along with me, all she has is herself), now I just wish she would go back to her truck and stop this ickfest already.

Blech.

And, call me biased or whatever, but the worst part about it is that it's a rotten excuse for an a**.

I'm all for showing a bit of tail if it's any good. I mean, I think everyone here knows that if I were a little hottie with a sweet a** this would be a whole other kinda website (huge believer of the if you got it, flaunt it school of thought).

But, hers isn't.

Hers is loose.

Not really big.

Just loose.

And loose is not good.

I'd rather be big than loose any day because loose is so, well, loose.

It's all flippy and flappy and, and, and gross.

I know what you're thinking, "Just don't look, Dumb Mom", "Just turn your head, you don't have to be all up on her like that, Dumb Mom."

And, I completely agree, but I swear no matter how hard I try to leave the stop first and high tail it home, for some reason she gets just enough ahead of me each morning that I can't catch her to pass, and then, there I am, stuck looking at waggy booty, flap home, dancing to it's own really annoying dance-party-techno soundtrack.

And, then there's Flustered Mom.

Chronically late to the stop, hustling half way dressed kids up the street at top speed, shouting her goodbyes quickly before she chase-scream-bustles her smaller ones (that she didn't even bother to take outta their footie jammies before she let them walk to the stop) back down the street upsetting all of the neighborhood dogs and leaving a trail of Poptarts and chocolate milk in her wake...

Wait a minute.

This one's me!

Never mind.

How about we take a minute to focus on this weeks awesome, totally on top of it mom of the week: Mira from Triplet Crown.

And, why does Mira deserve this week's So Not Dumb mom title?

Because she is the only person who responded to the call this week (although quite a few responded last week and the weeks before) for entries into PBD's Happily (un)Haunted Halloween Photo Contest.

See...



She entered this little cutie for a chance to win not only two $25 gift cards, but also 100 custom postcards from UPrinting.

Not sure what the rest of you are waiting for.

But, you should really get on it otherwise you are gonna be Annoying Procrastinating Mom, and let me tell you, from experience, she's the worst one of all!

It's a Playground

not an ashtray, or a toilet, or a king sized vibrating bed in a low budget motel.

It is a place where children, innocent C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N, go to play.

It's supposed to be safe, and inviting, and free of venereal disease transmitting debris.

So, in my infinite wisdom I've decided to compile a list of playground don'ts to help those less informed members of society learn to navigate a playground with ease and assurance.

(Please note that when I say "I've decided" that is to imply that Mama Kat decided when she selected the prompts for this week's Writer's Workshop. I know it appears that I am attempting to take credit for her bright ideas, but that is not entirely (partly, but not entirely) true. I'm convinced that since Mama K (my new term of endearment for her) and I met recently we are connected on a more existential level and that we are now sharing thoughts that other, regular people, are not privy to. It's like our brains are co-mingling at all times (which sucks for her because I'm sure that the constant images of JT shakin' his money maker are starting to make her ill). So, for future reference, just know that if Mama K comes up with a particularly awesome idea, you know, something super innovative and impressive, it probably really came from me.)

What Not to Do at the Playground (provided you don't enjoy being stoned)

DON'T SMOKE at the playground and leave the butt in the sand box so that my one year old picks it up and starts sucking on it while I'm Tweeting to @jtimberlake. I need other people to not behave like neglectful, inconsiderate losers so that when I'm feeling like doing so there aren't so many dangers lying around to make it impossible.

DON'T HAVE SEX at the playground and leave the condom (although round of applause for safety!) in the sandbox so that my one year old picks it up and starts sucking on it while I'm Tweeting to @jtimberlake. Okay, he didn't actually get it into his mouth, but he did have it filled with sand and was attempting to bat at other children with it.

DON'T LET YOUR DOG DEUCE in the grass adjacent to the playground. I have a really bad habit of forgetting #3's shoes at home and then letting him run barefoot through the park. Allowing your rat-tailed mutt to leave his excrement in random places causes me to swear loudly when #3 slips in it. So now, not only am I being ostracized for having a sh** footed toddler, but I am being glared at for my creative expression as well. I mean the bags are RIGHT. THERE.

DON'T PUT YOUR DOG ON THE SLIDE. It's just ridiculous and when my kid punches your dog in the throat because it lumbered into his personal space, don't look all aghast at me. Your bad. It clearly states that this playground is for C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N between the ages of 0 and 12, and for the record people-who-haven't-had-kids-yet-but-like-to-pretend-their-pets-are-their-babies, if it didn't actually slide outta your vajayjay or get ripped from a seriously-this-feels-like-I've-been-cut-in-half hole small incision in your belly, it's not your baby*!

DON'T TALK ON YOUR CELL PHONE the entire time. Seriously, I'm all for taking a short call or whatever, but what do you think texting is for? Obviously it's to prevent you from annoying the crap outta me at the park while you use that I'm-being-cute-and-playful-in-my-mind-but-it-sounds-really-effing-whiny-to-the-rest-of-us voice to talk your husband into letting you get the nanny an extra day each week. Please know that when my kid hands your kid the sand filled condom I'm not even gonna bother to knock it outta her hands.

DON'T FORGET TO READ (between) the signs. If there is a huge sign posted that says no skateboarding, rollerblading, or rollerskating on the play structure I think it's safe to assume that means your obnoxious, loudmouthed, way-too-big-for-jungle-gym-play son should also refrain from riding his Razor up and down the bridges. And, the fact that he got caught on my foot and took a mean header immediately after he rolled over #3's fingers is so not my fault it's not even funny.

DON'T FLAUNT YOUR GOODIES. I know, it's a public place and you and your kid are allowed to enjoy whatever culinary delights you desire, but I've been eating lettuce and water all week (trying to fit into my grown up pants again) and you're killing me with the cookies. Plus, #3's new "song" is the cookie song ("I wub cookies, I wub cookies, I WUB COOOOOOOKIES!"), which gets progressively louder as it's sung repeatedly until his affection for cookies is rewarded with one. So, unless you're planning on sharing soon, you might wanna get outta here with those.

DON'T MENTION THE WORDS NANNY, SPA, OR POTTY TRAINED anywhere near us. These or sore topics and it would just be mean.

DON'T SPREAD THE SWINE. I know, I'm buying into the paranoia here, but seriously, if your kid looks like he's carrying the plague how about you just pretend he is and keep him home. And, I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. We were just at the park yesterday and #3 started coughing. The mom of the girl next to him swooped in and put a SARS mask on her kid. Okay, she didn't really, but she did get out the hand sanitizer and go to work on those fingers. I made sure #3 planted a wet one right on her hand before we left!

Feel free to print these off and share them with all of your friends and family; it takes a village and moms like me will thank you.

Speaking of thank yous (subtle, right?!)...

I need to award this week's Thursday Thank You.



It's going out to a very special someone who I'm sure will never have sex on a playground again (KIDDING!)...

Justin Timberlake!

And, I'm only doing this because I think you're awesome, and I'm all drooly over you right now, and I want to share your undeniable awesomeness with the 3 people who read this blog.

Thank you, and you're welcome!

Dear Justin,
Thank you for inviting me to your concert (you Tweeted it, that totally counts). I was so happy that your charity event corresponded with my blogging event last weekend. I really enjoyed being a part of such an important affair (you workin' the floor) and am proud to say that I donated to such a valuable charity. I had a wonderful time with you and your friends, especially at the after party. You know, when we shared our moment?! I'm sure you remember it just the way I do: I was shakin' what my mama gave me (you know, trying to catch your eye), you noticed (how could you not, I was seriously doin' my thang) and rewarded me with that sweet smile (the one that obviously was meant to say that you love me), I rewarded you with a loud scream and a ridiculous little jig (although, since I was submerged in water up to my knees, I doubt you saw that, and I'm hoping you didn't catch a glimpse of my girdle either, I'm a little concerned about whether or not my wet dress had become transparent in the water). Now that I'm back home I hope you don't mind that I continue to interact with you. I plan to Tweet you regularly, from the park, while my kid plays with a dirty condom, cigarette butt hanging from his lips, and a mangy dog humping the crap outta his leg. Hope you don't mind. XOXO, Your oldest Biggest Fan, Dumb Mom

I've decided to break this note into a series of 140 character Tweets, nothing like killing him with kindness!

And, if you want to learn more about Justin Timberlake's charity concert, feel free to check him (and me, one of my @thenagainphoto Tweets actually made it on his site!) out here: justintimberlake.com


*Adopted offspring are meant to be included in this definition as well, point is, dogs, cats, and other furry friends don't count.

Wordful (on Motherhood) Wednesday

As you all know, I recently went on an amazing, mommy only vacation to Las Vegas.

I was afraid, and excited, and anxious, and sad, and happy, and guilty all at the same time.

Everything turned out fine and, honestly, I'm not even sure they really missed me all that much (combination of me not being gone all that long and their being left with the funnest person on the planet: their dad).

But, I did gain a better appreciation of what motherhood means to me.



Motherhood is...

Encouraging them to be brave.



Helping them maneuver through life's little messes.



Sharing traditions.



Working thorough the hard times together.



Teaching them what it means to be a friend.



Giving them the chance to learn from their mistakes.



Letting them work through their problems on their own.



Building values.



Laughing with them...



and, at myself.



Celebrating the big moments...



and the little ones too.



Being willing and able to forgive.



Being proud even when you know you have little to do with the fact that they are handsome, sweet, smart, funny, friendly, witty, clever, and cute.



Watching them grow up...



and knowing that you may not have always done the perfectly right thing, but you did the best that you could.

Want to share what motherhood means to you and win a chance to be a part of Motherhood the movie? Check out Angie's Seven Clown Circus and see how you can be a part of this great film!