Golden Old
Watch The Stars

This Is Parenting


{Dubious}LifeStyle Blogger ingredients:

parenting, family, faith, homeschooing, writing


I parent a wide range of ages.

Which can make life around Witt’s End quite interesting.

For instance:

This Girl right here:

Girly girl

She’s twenty-four (the age claimed by her birth certificate) some of the time. And some of the time she's about thirteen.

Of course when it comes to chore time she’s suddenly about six and a half. (Though frankly in my experience six and a half year olds have a much better “chore time attitude”).

Girly Girl is simultaneously my most difficult and easiest child to parent.

It depends entirely upon her mood.

(This can be frightening).


Then there’s this guy:

J in suit

Who is technically A Man. And as every woman knows men are very strange and mysterious critters.

He has his own ideas about everything, which, since they don’t always concur with my ideas, are very often wrong.

Evidently he’s ok with that.

And though he was raised by Quaker teachings and has for years planned to join the Peace Corp following college, he is now considering pursuing a career as a U.S. Marshal. You know – those guys in the movies wearing U.S. Marshal Jackets always being shot at by the most baddest criminals around?

I’ve decided this guy’s mission in life is to make his mother crazy.

{Yes that would be Me.}


Next there’s This Guy:

C 4

Also technically A Man, though till he can keep his room cleaner I will insist on referring to him as a teenager.

(Seriously- he opened his bedroom door the other day and a Green Fog reeking of b.o. and sweat socks rolled out.

I was entirely disoriented and lost wandering around the upstairs hallway for ten minutes).

He’s in college and has proclaimed himself Pre Med; an announcement which shocked us all to the core ‘cause he’s our resident computer geek and we felt certain some sort of Computer Geekdom Empire lay in his future.

But Pre Med’s ok.

Plus it has the added benefit of not giving me nightmares the way the words U.S. Marshal do.


This Guy actually is a teenager:


And of late, our conversations tend to revolve around about six central topics:

His Hair

His Clothes

His Music

His Guitar

Cars he would like plans to buy

His Copious & Entirely Admirable Facial Hair

Oddly enough none of these six topics are ones I consider of primary importance. Yet they seem to occupy an inordinate amount of time. 

I’m working on this.

N.B.  The six topics I consider of primary import are:


Family Time

College Planning

Self Actualization

School Again

And School Some More.

Whenever I mention the importance of these topics This Guy agrees profusely and immediately begins to talk about those first six yet again.

This is frustrating.

But this guy is funny. He’s friendly and outgoing. At one time he wanted to make films, delve more deeply into music, become a stand up comedian, all of the above, and other things beside.

But now, since his oldest brother began considering it (and yeal I blame Son&Heir entirely), he’s decided becoming a U.S. Marshal sounds kinda good.

Though at least it’s a career requiring a four year degree. Which, interestingly enough, takes us right back to my list again.

I can’t quite decide whether that’s a win or not….


Here is our youngest:


Still thankfully in the I Wanna Be A Baseball Player stage.

Still watching cartoons with unabashed interest, (no nostalgia whatsoever).

Still sleeping in dad’s old t shirts and climbing up on my lap in the mornings and “doing school” entirely under my guidance

(and yes I admit it control.  I do love me some control).

But there are changes in the wind.

He’s been going on up to that (formerly creepy) bedroom of his alone, not even requiring a tucking in, for quite a while now.

He makes his own lunch and suddenly is responsible for all those chores reserved for The Biggest Boys.

And I’m thinking: when did this happen?

When did this baby, this ‘lil guy, become one of the Biggest Boys?

When did I begin finding Teddy (loved so well and so long I can see his lidless eyes blink) on the floor beneath the bed, or squished into that tiny place between the bed and wall rather than snuggled tight in chubby little arms.

When did he begin disliking girls so much that you know he knows you know he’s full of hooey and he’s disliking those girls ‘cause he’s actually kinda liking them.

And what was I doing when all of this changed?

Because honest it musta changed in about half of a half a second, or certainly I would have noticed.

Noticed, pinned each of those moments to my heart, and savored them.

If only I’d known that one right there was going to be the last ‘lil guy moment, certainly I would have prayed for wisdom and found a way to make that final ‘lil guy moment last a whole lot longer.

That's the thing about Parenting.

You never know.

Until you do.


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