Today I’d like you all to meet … and sample … Mary Pielenz Hampton, the “Mom” behind RefreshMoments. Mary started blogging as a way to record God’s presence in the simplest moments. She is “midlife mom” to 5 year old train-loving “Bug” and 3 year old skateboarder wannabe “Boo,” wife to “Hubs” (who makes only rare blog appearances as he wishes to remain anonymous). Mary says, “Life is busy and noisy and full of distraction. It’s easy to miss God’s presence in the midst of it all. Refreshmoments is designed to be a place to come and be reminded that He’s right here, right now; when you’re doing the dishes, taking a bath, making cookies, putting on lip balm.”

When you’re done reading here, be sure to visit RefreshMoments to get the super yummy recipe that goes with this post!

Melting Moments

I’m not generally clutzy. I can’t even think of the last time I fell. Until today. I was going to take the boys’ scooter and bike to the car so they could ride them at the park. I grabbed the closest pair of shoes (a 4 inch wedge) because the sandals I planned to wear were already in the car.

I put on my sunglasses and picked up Bug’s bike helmet and went out the back door. His bike was straddling the patio; it was facing the wrong way, so I grabbed the handlebars and tried to turn it around so I could steer it out to the car.

I don’t know if my shoe got caught in my pants leg or if my foot got tangled in the training wheel, but all of a sudden the grass was rapidly moving toward my face. My hands were full of bike and helmet and keys and just the trajectory I was taking prevented me from putting my hands down to break my fall.

I remember wishing the helmet was on my head rather than in my hand.

It was actually a relief (a burning, painful relief) when my right knee met the ground before my face did. That instant of “whew” was immediately followed by an audible “thud” as the remaining momentum slammed the crown of my head into the ground. Next came visions of stars and the sound of my own voice saying things I was glad the boys weren’t there to hear.

I paused briefly to take inventory—the stars were gone and I didn’t think I was going to pass out. There was no visible blood—I didn’t even rip my jeans—although I did get a nasty road rash on that knee.

The only real casualty was my relatively new Revo’s that somehow must have slipped to exactly the spot on the top of my head that hit the ground. The substantial metal frames (the ones I got on purpose because they’re more difficult for the boys to tweak) were bent nearly flat and one lens was shattered. Still, I was thankful they weren’t on my face when they got mangled like that—I’d have certainly had (another) broken nose and probably two black eyes to boot.

I was a little apprehensive about driving, not knowing how bad the thump on the head really was, but there wasn’t time to find anyone else to get Bug from school. So I brushed the catkins from my hair, loaded up the gear, buckled in Boo and gingerly climbed into the van and drove to the school.

Aside from a bit of a headache and increasing stiffness in places I didn’t expect to be stiff, everything seemed fine.

At the same time it’s not. That little incident in the back yard–maybe three minutes out of my day–gave me a whole different perspective than the one I had when I walked out the back door.

I could have been on the cement patio when I took my tumble and had a really different outcome. I could have landed head first rather than knee first and gotten a concussion instead of a road rash. Boo could have already been buckled into the carseat while I lay unconscious in the backyard, leaving him unattended in the car…coulda…woulda…

I think every once in a while it’s good to see justhowclosewecome to disaster. Like when you’re driving along and you make just the right maneuver to avoid an accident and the adrenaline that floods through your veins reminds you how fortunate you are with each beat of your heart.

Sometimes seeing ourselves headed for disaster opens our eyes to the general absence of calamity in our lives and offers an opportunity for intentional gratitude for God’s protection.

So for the moment, I’m grateful to watch my kids running and playing and enjoying the sunshine at the park. I’m even grateful for the sore knee and the tweaked sunglasses that remind me that right now, things are good.

“Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.” Proverbs 27:1

~Written by Mary Pielenz Hampton of RefreshMoments.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Meet Sharon McCoy, author of the blog Happily Ever Lafter. She is a Kansas girl who is relatively new to the blogging world. She’s happily married to “the best guy in the whole world”, and has 4 “young-unz”. It’s her highest honor to serve the Lord — and if she has FUN along the way, that’s an added blessing! “I take to heart the verse: “A cheerful heart is good medicine…” Proverbs 17:22, and look for the humor in everyday life, while resting in the only true joy, which is found in the Lord.”

Dental

Now that I’m JUST past the age of, um ….. let’s go with 33, I’ve noticed an alarming trend. I’ve begun to swiftly fall apart physically. Particularly my wimpy teeth.

I’ve quipped the sassy line, “that was as fun as a root canal” in my (ever-so-brief) life. After my dental appointment earlier this week, I’ll now be able to deliver that line with unadulterated, first-hand authority.

For the record, I am blessed with a fine dentist. Despite the fact that he continually tries to converse with me, while I’m daintily holding my mouth open as far as my jaw will possibly allow. I found myself reduced to communicating with a series of animated moans, and that’s just whack. (Mom, that’s street talk for “not right”). Fo-shizzle.

Interesting fact: Did you know that rotting tooth pulp often gives off a foul odor when disturbed, much like stirring up the garbage can at the curb on trash pick-up day? TRUE. Or so I’ve heard.

But WHAT comes next, you ask? The dentist then uses a small, needle like tool to repeatedly scrape and stab (imagine the Psycho shower scene) the interior of the tooth’s roots. Come to think of it, it was very similar to the technique we used when carving our jack-o-lantern! I had no idea I was practically a dentist! I could totally do your next root canal for you, if needed. It would seem I have experience …. Sort of.

Moving on ….. At that point, they squirted a bleach solution into my mouth to sanitize the hollowed roots. And I don’t think I used that much bleach the last time I scrubbed our bathroom. In 2004.

While the bleach was “doing its job”, a la Scrubbing Bubbles, the assistant graciously adjusted my chair so I could sit upright and leisurely read a magazine. Oh, what a treat to flip through Dentistry Today.

It felt nice to let the blood drain back into the rest of my body where it rightly belonged. Being totally numbed on one entire side of my face, I proceeded to unknowingly drool – to the extent that they all had a big laugh when they returned to continue my torture, and actually had to change my clipped neck bib. Good times. MOP UP IN ROOM 3, PLEASE!

I was informed that we were in the home stretch. And I accordingly grunted my excitement.

The dentist then packed each root with a rubber type substance. Each time he finished a section, the assistant handed him a heated pointed instrument, which he proceeded to cram into each root. FORCEFULLY. In fact, I could have sworn he was doing a handstand, using only the instrument as his base.

I’ll admit, the smoke rolling off the instrument right under my nose was a bit unsettling. Seeing my puzzled (panicked?) eyes, he explained that he was melting the rubber filling so that it would ooze into all the nooks and crannies of the roots.

With all the smoke and such, I thought he might start juggling his dental tools, like those fancy cooks do at the Japanese Steak House. AND A BUSINESS VENTURE IS BORN! Not just a root canal – ENTERTAINMENT, folks! You could even bring a date.

Except after seeing the dental bill, we won’t be able to afford a date night for a while. We’ll just have to be content hanging out, watching our jack-o-lantern glow for entertainment, and huddling over it for warmth.

~Written by Sharon McCoy of Happily Ever Lafter.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Meet Jamie, a mom of one who has been married to a great man for six years. She loves blogging about her family’s journey of living simply and shares the ideas that work for them. “I get very excited about things I learn or about the things we strive to do – so blogging is a great way to share the passion!” Jamie blogs at Baby Get Green.

Confessions of A Mom

It amazes me how quickly we can relate with one another as moms. I read blogs, written by women I’ve never met, and start crying because they’ve lost a child, had a child, took a child to school for the first time. It’s astonishing how I can empathize with someone who I’ve never met.

On the other hand, it is sad how quickly we can judge other moms. I’ve been thinking for a while now how mothering can often become about what so-and-so is doing, what we ought to do, or the latest parenting technique. We can easily end up feeling judged, inadequate, and unsure of ourselves. Even though there seems to be this ongoing struggle to live up to our own and others expectations of being a mom, I think there are ways to be at peace with where we are at and what our family currently looks like, thus, bringing simplicity to our homes and peace to our souls.

This past summer I started thinking about how great it would be if moms knew how they fit into life – work, family, kids, friends – and then did just that, whatever it may be, without guilt. As I talked with friends and other moms I started to realize the guilt that so easily creeps in. “I should be spending more time with my child, I should play with them more each day, I should want to stay home, I should want to work, I feel bad I need to get stuff done around the house…”.

After maternity leave with our daughter, I went back to work part time for about six weeks, leaving our daughter with my husband and sister (at varying times). The schedule stressed me out, I always felt rushed, I came home as soon as there was any problem and I realized that, after all the random expenses, I wasn’t bringing home that much money anyway. My husband and I decided it was better for me and our family that I stay home.

At the same time, I wanted to do something and not just be home full time. In the process (which of course is still happening), I am now working part time and I can bring our daughter with me. I also work on things that are of interest to me as she naps or during the late night hours. I hope more and more to find what’s best for us, knowing that as our family grows, and life continues to take shape with new opportunities, our family’s needs and roles will continue to change over and over again. Change is inevitable.

So, how do we know what’s right and what’s not for us? How do we not compare with the mom down the road, in our playgroup, at work, in church?

My conclusion is that we really have to spend time thinking about our home and our family. What are my priorities? What does my child need? What do I need? What does my partner in life and parenting think?

Ultimately, for our family, we prayed and asked God to reveal opportunities and give desires for the things that would be best for our family. That is what I believe peace is – seeking and doing what God is asking us to do and not worrying about what everyone else is doing. There is so much more to consider as I process this subject, but I’m thankful for the few conclusions I’ve come to and the peace that is currently in our home.

~Written by Jamie of Baby Get Green.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Today I’d like all of you to meet Lisa from Stop and Smell the Chocolates. Lisa is a thirty-something, stay-at-home mom blessed with one son. She has been happily married to her wonderful husband for almost 16 years! Lisa enjoys blogging and likes to bring a smile to her reader’s day. She loves the community of mom bloggers who are ready to help out with advice or laughter or a shoulder to cry on at a moment’s notice. “And I like chocolate.”

Mom Blogger Variety Show

I’ve been blessed to be blogging for a few months now and am still amazed by the sheer number of blogs and how much variety there is among mom bloggers. When you say “Mom Bloggers”, you can’t lump them all into one general category. Each has a different vision and voice for her blog. Every mom’s blog is unique. You might have the same template and theme as another mom, but your content, pictures, style, and “feel” will be different.

I have been happy to discover that there are mom blogs to cover every topic that I could possibly want to know about: chocolate, decorating, food, frugality, Christianity, chocolate, daily family life, lovely pictures, tips, homemaking, chocolate, kid-raising, humor, blog help, more chocolate and the list goes on. I stop by many different mom blogs to get my daily dose of a variety of topics. I appreciate the fact that so many of these mom blogs have a theme. That way, I know just where to go to find daily inspiration on a specific topic.

And then there’s my mom blog. It doesn’t cover one particular kind of topic. It covers so many different kinds of things, that I have decided to consider it a Mom Blogger Variety Show. I don’t seem to have enough information, expertise or random helpful thoughts to share on any one topic that would fill up a blog (unless I tell you about what kinds of chocolate I like). So I have to bring together all the different parts that make up my life, and put them on my blog. And then I try to make it entertaining.

If you stop by for my Blogger Variety Show, you’ll definitely meet “Must Have Chocolate” Me who loves to talk about chocolate and share recipes. You’ll hear from “Tea Princess Me” – she likes lovely tea settings and enjoys drinking tea. You’ll occasionally run into “Imperfect Mom” Me who might talk about something that happens with her son. You’ll see photos from “Scenic Daydreams” Me who enjoys taking trips. You’ll laugh {hopefully} when “Comic Wannabe” Me tries to share humorous thoughts, and you might be surprised by “Slightly Serious” Me who throws in an occasional personal story from her life.

All of these characters have their very own acts in my Blogger Variety Show. The show couldn’t go on without them! The acts could change a bit as time goes on. You never know when a new character might show up or another character runs out of things to perform. Although the show may change, there will always be variety…and chocolate.

I was worried at one point that my blog was too scattered and that I should find one focused theme. I asked my readers (the few – the brave) what they prefer. Apparently they like the variety and that’s why they come back. A delightful surprise! So, that is the “theme” of my mom blog – variety…with some chocolate drizzled on top!

I know I’m not the only variety show mom blog out there, but no two are alike. God made each of us to be unique and our blogs are a reflection of that. I hope you enjoy the variety of mom blogs out in the blogosphere. Variety is the spice of life, right? Or is it chocolate?

~Written by Lisa Watson of Stop and Smell the Chocolates.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Today we are featuring a post written for us by Monica, who is new to the blogosphere. Her posts range from exercise and losing weight to recipes and well being. Be sure to visit her blog, Enjoying a Healthy and Balanced Life for informative and straight to the point posts.

Time Doesn’t Have to Go By So Fast

Life goes by at the speed of light doesn’t it? The speed of light can be slowed one day at a time.

I’m learning how to enjoy my 7 year old when he has good days, and more importantly when he has bad days.

My son is a “social butterfly” so often I have to deal with behavior issues in the classroom. This is tricky since I’m not there to see what’s happening. I have to make sense of what the teacher says combined with what he says. When a contradiction comes up, I always go with the teacher’s point of view.

I am in the process of overcoming:

1) Expecting him to be perfect. I expect to be perfect also. I’m working on this. It is a journey and some of it has been uphill. But the destination (although I don’t have a full view) is absolutely amazing.
2) Forgetting what it is like to be faced with something so funny that the laughter can’t be stopped no matter how hard you try.
3) Not remembering what it is like to be full of energy and desperately wanting to share a thought with someone.

Certainly a child has to have consequences. I am not his friend, I’m his mother. Do I need to be angry with him though? Do we really need to be on opposite sides?

I’m striving to learn from the mistakes I made last year. I want to be more understanding and remember what it was like to be a child.

Tell me, do you have the same struggles?

Written by Monica of Enjoying A Healthy and Balanced Life.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

I have known Tara for a while now, and I know she would appreciate me sharing her introduction in her own words, “I am an imperfect pastor’s wife and an imperfect stay at home mom to my three fabulous kids. I blog to keep my sanity and to remind myself that there really ARE other people like me out there!” I enjoy her simple and honest way of writing and talking to her readers and I think you will too. You can find Tara at her blog, Tara’s View of the World.

I Will Stand Strong

I think there is a definite possibility that my kids are conspiring together to make me lose my mind.

You may think I am kidding. But I have SEEN the LOOK in their eyes … the one that says “how much do ya wanna bet that I can push mom right over the edge?”. I know that it may SEEM like innocent banter between children but I suspect they are talking in some sort of code only kids can understand about ways to destroy my sanity. I just know it.

My daughter, Olivia, is 20 months old. Her main contribution to the “make mommy lose it completely campaign” is to keep me utterly exhausted. She adheres to a strict regime of nightly wake-up times in 2 hour intervals and only takes daytime naps when other children are available to keep me busy. She is also determined to nurse until she enters college.

She tries to throw me off by smiling the most beautiful dimpled smile and calling me “mama” in the sweetest voice I have ever heard… but I can’t be fooled. I have taken hundreds of pictures which I plan to use to teach HER daughter these subversive techniques. Someday when she says to me “Mom, I am SO tired! This baby just will NOT sleep!” I will pat her on the back and laugh hysterically and say things like “oh this SO serves you right!!!!”. Ok, I might just say it in my head but it will feel so good to know there is justice in this world.

My middle child Owen is 4, almost 5, years old. His main job is to whine. A lot. He has learned to use phrases such as “I can’t help it” and “it wasn’t my fault” and “but I have a tummy ache (my head hurts, my leg hurts, I have to go pee)” to avoid responsibility for his actions. He has also become the jedi-master of stubbornness.

He has, at times, almost convinced me of his innocence with his incredibly beautiful innocent looking eyes. When he can tell I’ve started to catch on to his evil plan he throws me off by looking me in the eye and saying “Mommy, I wuv you” and handing me a hand picked dandelion from our yard. This is a very clever tactic on his part since I seem to be unable to withstand his charm and am lulled into a false sense of security which is, once again, abruptly shattered when I see the pile of peed upon bedding on my laundry room floor.

My oldest son Aiden is six and definitely the ring leader in the “mama’s goin’ down” posse. He is mainly trying to accomplish this task through the brilliant tactic of freaking out hundreds of times per day and peeing BESIDE the toilet instead of IN the toilet.

Aiden is clever though and uses his incredible creativity to hide his subversive efforts. He builds intricate lego war machines and gives them to me with hand drawn cards. I know, the war machines SHOULD be a dead giveaway to the reality of “Operation Crazy Mom” but the cards throw me off every time! How can I resist “I heart Mom” in his precious hand writing?

The school system, health care system and mental health people have all joined the fight to strip me of my sanity. You see they PRETEND that they are trying to HELP us. But don’t be taken in!! Their tactics include telling me opposing views of what is “wrong” with my son. The school system says he has ADHD. The health care system tells me he has Sensory Integration Disorder. The mental health people tell me he has Asperger’s Syndrome. And just to wear me down a little more they have all joined forces together to create the longest wait time possible to get an official diagnosis.

Occasionally I think my husband may be in on the whole scam too, like when he leaves a trail of dirty laundry from the bathroom to his side of the bed. And sometimes I think he and the kids are secretly working together to destroy my home. They mess up the house as soon as I am finished cleaning it, throw food on the floor when I’m not looking, place crushed cheerios and sharp pieces of lego under my feet, and store dirty dishes in odd locations to assault my delicate sense of smell.

But then I take one look at the exhaustion emanating from my husband’s face and realize that he is, in fact, a victim of the tyrannical kid posse too.

And although the constant bickering and whining and yelling sentences that start with the word “mooommmm” threaten to send me right over the edge, I just remind myself that I AM thankful for these amazing gifts from God. Surely they have been sent to transform me into the very picture of graceful, patient, loving, and kind motherhood.

But on the off chance that doesn’t happen right away, I’ll just keep telling myself that if I can survive birthing 3 children, 4 miscarriages and 6 years of post partum depression, I can certainly prevail against the scheming little people.

I will stand strong. I am Mom.

~Written by Tara of Tara’s View of the World.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

As families are getting into the new fall/school groove and settling in from all of their summer activities, I’m excited for the fresh and insightful submissions I’ll be receiving for The Sampler. If you haven’t submitted for The Sampler yet and you are a mommy blogger, please be sure to hop over to our Sampler Guidelines page and follow them to write something for us to consider.

This week I was inspired to write to all of you. In case you don’t know me, my name is Shera and I’m the host of The Sampler. I’m the mom blogger behind A Frog In My Soup where you can often find encouragement, information and “Mommy Realities”. Occasionally you’ll find me at Faith Lifts, a ministry of 5 Minutes for Mom, where I mainly wear my administrator hat. I am blessed to serve with some truly amazing devotional writers to bless moms every day.

The Mom In Me

My oldest son will be 13 in a couple of months and sometimes I’m amazed that I survived to tell the tale! If I can just make it through the teenage years of my oldest son, I’ll feel fairly confident about the rest. Well, maybe until the twins get there anyway.

Life hasn’t always been what I expected; motherhood in particular did not exactly match what I had long dreamed in my mind. It was easy as a young girl to envision life as a mom. Believe it or not, I dreamed of having 6 children … NOT all boys mind you, but there were 6. I can’t remember if there was a set of twins among those 6 children in my mind (I honestly DON’T think so), but if there were I can guarantee you they did no wrong, were perfectly behaved and spoke softly to everyone who came near.

Enter reality! My two year old twins can’t seem to stop moving for more than ten seconds, feel it necessary to rip the pages out of almost any book they can get their hands on (a huge pet peeve of mine), think that everything is for climbing and that they are equal in size and ability with the bigger boys. My 5 year old thinks he’s bigger than my 9 year old (almost true) and thinks he should be in charge of the twins. My 9 year old thinks he’s the boss of everyone and likes to shout orders and my 10 year old, well, he thinks he’s funny … VERY funny, but he’s really not (poor thing). My almost-13-year old thinks that since he’s bigger than me he shouldn’t have to listen to me as much, thinks he’s basically an adult and suddenly seems to be having trouble making intelligent decisions (or did he ever?).

So, what does one do when faced with a challenge of gargantuan proportion? When a mom who already has four boys finds out that her surprise 5th pregnancy is twins? Go to God! It’s that simple! I almost passed out (I kid you not) on the ultrasound table when the technician showed me the two babies side by side, when I recovered I asked one simple question of God … “You seriously think we’re up for this?”

In all honesty, that is a statement that I continue to ask Him all the time. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t change our family for the world, I love each and every one of my boys, they are amazing. I know that He gave us these wonderful boys for a reason and we were entrusted as parents who could handle it, but sometimes I feel so much less than adequate! There were definitely times when I “only” had three children and felt overwhelmed, so I do know that it isn’t only a large family issue. Without being able to lean on Him and regularly “give back” each boy with their problems and needs, it would be easy for me to get caught up in only seeing the negative.

With the help of God, I continue to find creative and constructive ways to parent these children. I find all of the wonderful qualities each of them posess, even in the midst of the crazy boy behavior. By leaning on God, I learn how to be more like Him in parenting and interacting with my blessings. I’m learning to find the Mom in me more and more each year. He put it there, I just need to ask Him to reveal it to me each and every day!

~Written by Shera of A Frog in My Soup and Sweet ‘n Simple Design.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Tiffanie Lloyd is a mom who wears many hats in life. She blogs at Our Life about faith and life as a stay-at-home/work-at-home, homeschooling wife and mom of three (almost four)! What other things does Tiffanie love? “I like music, writing, the outdoors, watching my kidos when they sleep and the smell of hubby’s burgers on the grill.” Tiffanie is also a volunteer Area Director for her local Young Life division. So as you can imagine, there is much to find at her blog on a regular basis!!

I’ll Be Off In A Minute …

I do love me a good chick flick. Hubby and I watched Definitely-Maybe the other afternoon while the boys napped (or pretended to at least). Super cute movie and yes, my shirt was drenched in smeared mascara and snot by the time it was over. Concluding the film, hubby gave me a big hug, and I sniffled some more… it was one of those – I have no idea why I’m still crying, I’ll try to hide it and hold my breath while he’s hugging me so he can’t tell – moments. I’m sure he knew. He always does. Plus it’s not like I’m uber emotional or anything.

Hubby really like movies. And when I say really, I mean REALLY! He’s more than your average movie buff. He especially gets into independent films (let me just say that I have endured some rather interesting flicks). We went out on a date the other night, the first in way-to-darn-long, and of course, went to the movies. We have something like 8 movies to watch right now – he borrowed a few “classics” from a guy at the office, he stopped and rented a couple during a run to the grocery store and we’ve got our Netflix DVD’s too. Hubby really DOES like movies.

Movie watchin isn’t so much my thing. I watch maybe 25% of the movies that enter our domain. And I’m usually working on something else simultaneously. I prefer staring into the screen of my Mac. Working, replying to emails, networking, writing or roaming the blogosphere. Blogging Chicks has a fabulous comic strip that reads “What’s a blogging chick?” “A woman who spends her nights saying I’ll be off in a minute”.

So, movies and the internet. Our addictions could be worse. Though it did not take long to discover that neglecting the kids isn’t such a good idea.

Every once in a while I’ll get a little carried away and lost somewhere in the land of my computer screen. Every once in a while hubby throws himself a movie marathon breaking only to use the bathroom and raid the kitchen for a snack. The kids, well they’re off somewhere doing something naughty that we will later find and realize that we had left them unattended and forced to conjure up their own entertainment.

While one afternoon of resting and moving watching could easily be justified after a long and laborious week, and my time spent on the web could be considered legitimate working hours, the issue here is priorities. At church a few Sunday’s ago we discussed this exact topic and it was a much needed reminder. When my priorities get out of whack, so to does just about every facet of my life. Kiddos misbehave. House looks like a barn. Hubby and I lose touch.

I don’t know about you other mommy’s out there, but it can at times get difficult keeping my priorities in line. Sometimes they sneak away unnoticed and other times I toss them over the bridge myself. It takes work to keep life balanced. Effort to keep my priorities straight. It takes sacrifice, patience and a good schedule. Time with God comes first. Mommy and Daddy time can not be neglected. If I put off the housework, it probably won’t get done. We have to do our best to stay on top of our homeschooling schedule, cause it’s hard to get back into routine once it’s broken. If I stay up too late, honestly, I’m just a crab. And on those unfortunate days when nap time ends WAY to early, so does my time on the computer.

There is incentive to putting fourth the effort. Things operate a ton more smoothly when I run my life and home with a healthy balance. I enjoy my children and they thrive on the positive interaction, the structure and the time we spend together. Hubby and I enjoy each other (as opposed to being COMPLETELY annoyed by every dirty sock and unclosed cupboard) and seek to spend time together. And things get accomplished. I am fulfilled. I feel successful and confidant as mommy, wife, homemaker, teacher, small business owner… (no wonder it it gets difficult).

~ Written by Tiffanie Lloyd of Our Life.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Balancing life and parenting can be rather complicated whether you have 2 children or 6 children (a little hint as to why The Sampler is going up later than usual), so when Sarah sent me this feature post which puts that so perfectly into words I knew I had to share it with all of you! Sarah is the mother of five children, “that wears me down some days and lifts me up on others. It wasn’t my first plan to have five kids and be a stay-at-home mom. I was going to be a college professor with two children. I’m grateful for my Plan B, though. It’s taught me more, and given me more joy than I could have ever hoped for.” You can find Sarah at Worlds Greatest Mommy, where you will truly find inspiration, encouragement and life as a busy mom!

What Does Mommy Mean?

She’s only eight years old, but she wants to know something important. She’s looking forward into her future, and wondering what will be there for her. She’s fairly sure that she’ll have children. She wants to prepare now so that she can be a great mom. And so she asks me..

“What does it mean to be a mommy? What do I need to know?”

But I’m in the middle of a million things. Her baby sister has broken a glass bowl and the pieces lay shattered on the floor. Her older brother wants me to see him get through a new level on a video game. I don’t even know where her younger brothers are, and I promised all the kids that we’d go to the library to see a traveling animal show.

So I say, “Just a minute.” And then I rush around trying to do everything necessary…everything on the list.

After a long day, I tuck in my children and look forward to going downstairs to a giant slice of chocolate cake and sitcom reruns. I’ve earned it, that’s for sure.

My daughter is the last one to kiss. Minutes more until I have some freedom. And then I remember her question…still unanswered.

“What does it mean to be a mommy? What do I need to know?”

As I walk into her room, I wonder if the hectic day has taught her lessons, I’d rather not have her know. I search back through my memory and wonder how anyone, especially an eight-year-old girl could find glory and value in the things I’ve done today.

I sit down and concern for her feelings and needs banishes the memory of what waits downstairs. I’m needed here and the need is great.

I tell her that I’m sorry I didn’t have time earlier to answer her questions.

She sits up and smiles at me.

“I think I figured it out.”

I feel a little sad. She didn’t need me after all. I wonder what warped view of motherhood I exhibited for her today that managed to answer those questions.

She leans in close and hugs me and whispers, “I think you just have to love your kids a lot.”

I’m crying softly, because it’s hard to see that any example I could have set would have helped her arrive at that conclusion, but I’m grateful. And I hold her for a little longer and we laugh at some of the mishaps of the day. I twist a spiral curl in my fingers and tell her she’s growing up so fast. She kisses my cheek and says goodnight.

I know it won’t be long until she sits on her own daughter’s bed after a day like the one we’ve had. I think I could take a little pride in the training she’s had for those moments waiting in the future. We strive for grace as mothers, and sometimes our daughters teach us the best lessons.

I walk downstairs and realize that the sweetest part of my day has already happened.

~ Written by Sarah of World’s Greatest Mommy.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Recently Rachel Callahan, the mom behind the blog, Grasping for Objectivity in my Subjective Life introduced herself to me and offered today’s post for The Sampler! She began blogging in February and was instantly in love, not only with the ability to keep a journal for her daughter, but also because of the awesome community and social interaction being part of the mommy blogosphere offers. Through blogging she also discovered something about herself, “I have always wanted to be a funny person, but have never had the delivery to do so – it just never comes out as funny as it was in my head. However, since blogging, I have discovered that I AM funny, I just need to WRITE it instead of tell it!” I truly hope that you enjoy today’s Sample!

Understanding? Impossible.

I sat, exhausted in every way, trying to understand why I was exhausted. I always overanalyze – I want to have a REASON for everything so that I can categorize it and put it in the neat little box where it belongs.

I realized that I was exhausted because I didn’t understand what happened. Yesterday morning my cute, bubbly, compliant and loving 18 month old woke up a 2 year old. She was belligerent, said “uh uh” to everything I asked her to do, hit the nearest thing in sight anytime I told her no, and gave me looks that could freeze the Gulf of Mexico. Then, just a few hours later, she was back to her loving, cute, happy, laughing self.

How does this happen? What caused it? What should I do differently? My blog, after all, is called “Grasping for Objectivity in my Subjective Life”. I’m a numbers girl – a logic girl. This must make sense somehow!!

Then I realized, I am not, nor will ever have insight great enough to understand what drives a toddler. Just like I didn’t know why she cried constantly when she was five months old. Sometimes, parenting is a mystery.

So when will parenting become more objective? When will I understand my child and why she acts the way she does? Certainly not when she’s a teenager. I wonder how many times my Mom went to bed at night, exhausted simply because I was beyond understanding.

BUT – she was a great Mom. An effective Mom. She taught me what I needed to know and she taught it well. It stuck. Even though it may not have shown on those blustery teenage days where I was incomprehensibly illogical, it DID work.

So, maybe I don’t have to understand to be a great Mom. Maybe I just have to try my best with the understanding that God sees fit to give me. I don’t have to analyze my daughter’s every move to make it fit into a logical box, I just need to go with it, one day at a time, slow and steady, keeping my eyes on the big picture – to raise my daughter to love and follow God.

~ Written by Rachel Callahan of Grasping for Objectivity in My Subjective Life.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

When Jaime Compton submitted the post below she included a fun and unusual introduction that I would like to share with all of you! “Occupation: Mom. Blogging is my new therapy and release from a hectic day as a stay-at-home-mom and crafter/artist. I have a two-year old son, a 38 year old husband, and a 3 year old Chihuahua. Life is busy as most women’s lives are and oh so fun. I am a private tutor for several private school students a few nights a week, stock my Etsy shop, paint shirts and onesies for local buyers as well, and every once in a while I freelance as a Lancome makeup artist.” Whew! You can find Jaime and her variety of adventures and projects at her blog, Always Inspired.

Multitasking

Let’s face it, if you’re a mom, you are a multitasker. If Universities handed out degrees in the art of Multitasking, mothers would hold doctorates. I am currently working my way towards a master’s.

Multitasking for me, as for all women and mothers, is an innate ability that we seem to be born with. We can cradle a phone to our ear to catch up with a girlfriend all while we pull weeds, change a dirty diaper, and clean up dog poo from the living room rug. Our days are long and filled with chores and tasks necessary to keep our houses functioning. Not to mention there are additional responsibilities like play dates, getting in an exercise workout, and finding time to scrapbook two vacations ago.

Just the other day I discovered a valuable life lesson in multitasking. If one has the choice between answering the phone or putting on socks and shoes for a sitting and patient two year old, one should opt for the socks and shoes. If it is important, the person calling will call back. If they don’t call back, oh well, I didn’t have time anyway. A two year old, however, will probably never again sit waiting to put on their socks and lace up shoes (lace up is what the foot doctor insisted on; Velcro would just be too easy).

Ever since I became a mom I’ve discovered that I have this intense yearning to do lots of things well. I want flowers blooming in my garden, a clean organized home, Christmas pictures arranged into one album… not two decades of pictures crammed inside a few shoe boxes (sorry mom), heart shaped sandwiches at Valentine’s Day, perfectly wrapped presents for birthdays, and a somewhat healthy dinner prepared nightly. Healthy for me is at least one microwaveable vegetable. I do this because I want my son to have the most wonderfully memorable childhood.

Do I still have 5 lb. dust bunnies underneath my furniture? You bet. Is there still half eaten Cheetos in my couch cushions? Sure! Does my linen closet even remotely resemble a picture from Martha Stewart Living? No way near.

I know that for me, I often get caught up in the many tasks at hand and begin to get stressed. At the end of a long day, to keep myself focused and grounded, I concentrate solely on one thing… God has blessed me and entrusted me with a beautiful son, a loving and somewhat patient husband, and an obnoxious Chihuahua. Once they are all tucked in my home safe and reasonably sound that is all that matters.

Oops, did anyone feed the dog today?

~ Written by Jaime Compton of Always Inspired.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Jackie from “where the boys are” is the mother of three boys ages 16, 13 & 9. She is the wife of a loving husband, whom she still has a crush on after all these years. She enjoys being the “queen” of her castle and being pampered by the men in her life.She lives a busy life that moves at a rapid rate but she still finds time to blog about it. I truly enjoy the reminder she shares with us today in her post and as I teeter back and forth between a set of two year old twins that make me a little nuts and head all to quickly toward those dreaded teenage years with my oldest son.

Longing for the Terrible Twos

Being the mother of a newly, licensed, teenaged driver is about to kill me. This is by far the hardest parenting stage I have had to go through. Terrible twos? Bring them back! Please! I would much rather wrestle a toddler, who is in the throws of a tantrum, to the ground, than sit and watch my 16 year old son pull out of the driveway each day.

We have instituted a rule that he has to call or text me when he arrives at his destination. The same goes for when he begins the trip home. This gives me ample time to sit and watch the clock while biting my nails to the quick while I wait for my phone to ping or ring.

It was so much easier to spend sleepless nights rocking a baby as opposed to waiting up watching for those headlights to dance across the garage door, telling me that he’s home safe and sound. At least you know the baby in your arms is safe while you’re holding him and feeding him a bottle at 2 am.

I reminisce fondly about the days when he wore bibbed overalls and “asked” to hold my hand. When I wiped his chin and the other end and when he would beg to snuggle with me in my chair. I remember smelling his soft blond hair right after a bath and tucking him at night with a song and a story.

These days he’s more interested in hanging out with his friends and stretching the boundaries of freedom that having a driver’s license affords a 16 year old boy. Eating with the family is a rare occurrence and I’m often in bed long before his head ever hits the pillow.

I guess I always thought it would get a little easier as they got older, but I can see now that I was wrong. He struggles to gain his independence while I struggle with letting him. He tries to spread his wings and fly while I try to keep him from leaving the ground. He smiles at me and says, “Mom, don’t worry.” I smile at him and say, “that’s my job.” He drives away while I pray without ceasing.

He takes one step closer to becoming a man, as I take one step closer to understanding the meaning of letting go.

~ Written by Jackie Loudin of Where the Boys Are.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Amanda blogs about every day life at her blog, I Am Mommy. As I was browsing around Amanda’s blog and stumbled upon her “100 Things About Little Ole Me” post and discovered a few things that I simply had to share with you. Amanda loves Jesus, she’s mother to two boys, but wants 10 kids, she refers to her husband as “hot”, and she’s obsessed with vacuuming … just to name a few. She truly does love her children and her hubby and really enjoys spending time with them. In her own words sh’e also “a very amateur photographer, a very amateur writer, a slightly addicted blogger and interested in getting into the study of apologetics.” To get to know Amanda better, be sure to visit her blog!

I have a three year old.

When I say it, I never know what feeling it is going to inspire in me.

Pride
Sometimes I even feel a bit of boastfulness at his demeanor. He can be thoughtful, insightful, and oh so obedient.

Accomplishment
And other times I am feeling happy just to have made it through the day without anyone screaming, hitting or biting. I have a 3 year old, and I am surviving!

Doubt
Often in the presence of others… “Oh really? You also have a 3 year old who is reading, writing and reciting Shakespeare, speaks three languages and always shares?” I am sure mine will catch up…. right???

And just plain Fear
Is he going to erupt in the middle of Aunt June’s funeral? Will he start screaming and throwing a fit in Target because I won’t let him pretend to turn on the vacuums? Will he throw his food at strangers in McDonalds? Will he say that he wants to go to Fuddruckers (which he always mispronounces) again in front of my pastor?

But today, I added a whole new set of feelings to my repertoire.

This morning, my little angel started shoving his 2 year old brother off of the couch and throwing his matchbox cars across the room; when I tried to correct his behavior, he punched me in the thigh.

I sat down, with all the grace and patience I could muster, and spoke very calmly to my baby. “Honey, you are not allowed to hit mommy or throw things or push your brother. Those things are mean and make us hurt and feel bad. Please say your sorry and ask for forgiveness. We need to learn how to play with each other and how to respect others.”

My child, my precious first born, looked at me with almost tears brimming in his beautifully large watchful eyes and said…

“No mommy. Not sorry.”

I could not have lacked grace, understanding, and patience more in that moment. That child saw the momentary confusion in my horrified expression, took it as an immediate sign of weakness, and ran away.

As I sat and fumed and felt thoughts of disgust and anger at the total absence of compassion in my child, I recalled a lesson I once heard preached. It was a story from a book written by Chuck Swindoll called The Grace Awakening (greatly paraphrased on my part).

Hypothesize you have a small child…a son, the light of your life; your pride and joy; the apple of your eye. One day something horrific happens to him – he is murdered. The police catch the murderer and he is prosecuted. You are totally unable to live with the legal system and how it handles the murderer, so you hunt him down and take his life; An eye for an eye.

That is vengeance.

Suppose that instead of choosing vengeance, you submit to the court system. You allow a judge and jury to decide the fate of the murderer; the murderer is found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. You accept this verdict, and slowly move on and rebuild your life.

That is legal justice.

Consider, instead of just allowing the judge and jury to decide the fate of the man who murdered your son, you plead on his behalf. You act as a character witness in court. You are so compelling, the judge and jury decide to let the murderer go. And when that murderer walks free from that courtroom, you run to him, embrace him, and offer him total and complete forgiveness. You offer him a place to live. You offer him unconditional love.

That is grace.

Now, I know of no man on earth that can offer that kind of grace.

Only God is capable of that, and He does it for us on a daily basis.

It does not matter what sin we have committed against Him, He is always willing to forgive us, as long as we ask and truly repent.

I can only begin to tell you how many characteristics of God I have strived for since my little one first made his appearance in the world. But the one I have often felt most necessary to achieve is grace. I know I have to teach my child what respect, love, compassion, and grace feel like, but more importantly, what they look like. I am grateful for knowing I have the greatest Teacher in the universe to guide me and be my ever present example.

I take great comfort in striving to be the parent to my children that God is to me. I love knowing that when we allow Him to guide us, we are following the best Example that was or ever will be.

~ Written by Amanda of I Am Mommy.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

Christie O’Sullivan is the journalist turned stay-at-home mommy of 2 boys behind Baby Tea Leaves. Her first son was born prematurely at 34 weeks which caused Christie a bit of anxiety about conceiving (let alone carrying) another child. Much of the post she wrote for us today talks about her experience with entering the world of new-mommyhood for the second time.

That Smile

I wasn’t sure if there was ever going to be a time when I’d want another baby. I knew I wanted more children, but I didn’t really want to be pregnant again. I loved being pregnant so much the first time around, but somewhere along the way it all went horribly wrong and I was left on the other side of pregnancy with a beautiful baby boy and a broken heart. The thought of repeating this process terrified me. But my path to self-forgiveness started as most things do in a woman’s life, with an episode of Oprah.

I was sitting on the floor in front of the tv folding laundry. Her episode of The Secret was on. No, I didn’t “secret in” some forgiveness (or did I?), but there was a guest on there, a guy, who said something that turned on a lightbulb for me.

It was something like, (and forgive me for not having the exact quote — this is how I remember it) every day that you don’t forgive yourself, you are dooming yourself to repeat that day or that period in your life forever. He said you have to thank God (yes, actually be thankful!) for that experience, forgive yourself, and move on.

Tall order. But I realized I had to do it. I was reliving the 9 days my little boy spent in the NICU over and over again. The scary moment he was born and rushed off to the NICU. The terrified looks on my husband and mother’s faces. The emptiness I felt having to go home without my son. Even though he was here at home with me and healthy, I could not snap out of it. I was punishing myself for his being born 6 weeks early. I was punishing myself for developing preeclampsia. My body didn’t do its job when I was pregnant, and somehow it was my fault.

I decided to forgive myself. Then something amazing happened. Coincidentally (or not), the following week I finished the scrapbook that I had been working on of our NICU experience. Soon after, we walked in the March of Dimes walk. All of this happened around the same time and was therapeutic, like closing a chapter.

Then I found out I was pregnant. Again. And I was terrified. What if my body didn’t do this right? What if he was born even earlier than the first?

So every night, I prayed to a giant list of people. I prayed to God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, St. Gerard (the patron saint of pregnant women), St. Bernadette (my mother’s favorite saint), Kateri (Native Americans consider her a saint), my grandmother, both of my grandfathers, and my husband’s father.

I asked that my son not only make it the whole 40 weeks, but 41 just to be safe. I asked them (or begged, rather) to surround my baby with their love and to keep him safe and sound in my body and I asked (begged) that they watch over my body and help it to do its job.

Not only did my son make it to full-term, he made it two days shy of 41 weeks. Just like I asked.

But oh, how I was at the end of my uncomfortable rope. I said (begged), out loud, “OK guys, I am ready. Please, send me into labor. Break my water. Anything. I am ready. My body is ready. Let’s do this. Please?” And I hoped that someone was hearing me. I was officially miserable. Happy. But miserable.

An hour later, my water broke.

My labor was long. That whole thing about the second baby just slipping out? Nope. Not for me. Three hours of pushing. He was stuck behind my pelvic bone, face up. We were two minutes from a C-Section. I couldn’t push even once more; there was nothing left. His heart rate was starting to drop a little. I knew I couldn’t do it alone, so I pulled off my oxygen and I asked God and my long list of “helpers” and again, I found myself begging, as I had many times before, with tears streaming down my face.

Two more pushes, he was out.

He’s six months old now and I call him my “little healer”. He was sent to me as a blessing. To save my life. He is the absolute smiliest, happiest baby I have ever seen. So smiley that I get right up in his face with the camera and take a closeup of it almost every day. And every day that I see that smile, I am so grateful. He helped me close such a painful chapter of my life and showed me it was safe to start over.

So you could chalk it up to Oprah, she sure does get a lot of credit for things these days. Or miracles, or time healing all wounds. Or God granting me some serenity when I was asking for it (or begging). Maybe all of it. But in the end, someone or something saved me. I think it may have been that smile.

~ Written by Christie O’Sullivan of Baby Tea Leaves.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup

As the mom of boys myself, I truly enjoyed reading the reality, candor and humor in the post that I am featuring in The Sampler this week! Rachel is the mother of three very active little boys who insist that it is okay to go outside, no matter what the weather is like. She is the owner of www.BusyMommy.us, a website geared towards helping moms survive motherhood one mess at a time, and blogs about what it is like to mother boys at Puppy Dog Tales.

Mother of Boys

I think I am officially a mother of boys. There is a huge lawnmower box covered in crayon in my front room, “roads” made out of masking tape all over my playroom floor, and plastic lizards on my couch. This is giving me flash backs to growing up with three brothers. I have a friend who swears that after the third boy the baby weight just falls off because you never have time to sit down. My chocolate addiction seems to have relieved me of that benefit but I’m hopeful that it will work for me down the road.

My kids have grown up so fast that it shocks me how quickly I made the transition from cute little baby blue clothes without holes in the knees, folded neatly in the drawers, to a house where you can’t walk 5 feet without stepping on a hot wheels car.

Tonight, one by one, each one of my children let me rock them in the rocking chair that I have had since my oldest was born. That was a rare moment. Most of the time I have to chase them down to get a hug. My two year old had one of his screaming fits. I was trying to put him to bed and he was trying to tell me what he wanted. The poor kid knows exactly what he’s saying but no one else can understand him. All I got was he wanted something done to his blanket. He got so frustrated that I couldn’t understand him that he just burst into tears and started screaming hysterically. He started crying so hard that he was choking on air and I just gave in. I picked him up and sat down in the rocking chair with him and he laid his head on my shoulder and forgot whatever it was he was upset about. He was asleep in minutes and I just kept rocking him.

When I went to put him back in bed, my 4 year old leaned over the bars of the top bunk and said “Mommy, can you rock me too?”

This is the child who insists that cannot still be my baby when I tell him that he will always be my baby no matter how big he gets. This is the child who tells me he is too big for cuddling and too old to hold my hand. I know that my days are limited with this one. Even now, the times he asks to sit on my lap are few and far between. I couldn’t turn him down. He sat on my lap while I rocked him and told me how soon he was going to be 5. And after that he was going to be 6,7,8,9, and 10. I wonder if I can rock a 10 year old boy on my lap.

My 7 month old, who is usually the only one to put up with being rocked, was the last one in line. I rocked him while he played with my necklace and gummed my fingers. Today, he is the baby. But I know it won’t be long before he will be filling my house with ladybugs and rock collections, just like his big brothers are. Before I know it, I will have three grown men staring back at me and I will be wondering where my babies went.

~ Written by Rachel Lister of BusyMommy.us.

If you would like to be considered for The Sampler please review The Sampler Guidelines.

This column is Hosted by Shera. She can be found at A Frog In My Soup