30 Things You Learn in 18 Years of Parenting

I've done it. I've sent my first child to college.

That means I've successfully kept alive, fed, and clothed a whole other human for 18 years. This is huge for me, as I can't even handle houseplants.

And just like I've done a few posts musing on the things I've learned after 10 years and 15 years of parenting, this seems like a good milestone year to write another chapter.

If Phillip and I look tired in this picture, it's because we are.

1. Never judge anyone's parenting whose kids are older than yours. You have no idea.

2. People will say you'll have more free time once your kids reach [insert stage of life here]. They're lying.

3. Big kids are every bit as messy as little ones. Actually, they're worse, because you can't even begin nagging them to clean up until after their 3,000 extra-curricular activities.

4. Kids will forget almost all the things you did with them when they were younger, but they'll remember your family traditions with a Norman Rockwell-like nostalgia.

5. Wait as long as you possibly can before giving your kids smartphones.

6. If you don't specifically ask them to take care of the the toilet paper tube on the bathroom counter, they'll just adapt and it becomes a permanent fixture of the house.

This is our overflowing cardboard recycling bin. And it's overflowing because a child flattened a cardboard box, laid it on top of the empty bin, and piled everything else on top of it for a week.

7. It's really humbling when your kids get old enough to realize you're not perfect.

8. Occasionally asking your children to make sacrifices or go without something they want is nothing to feel guilty about. In fact, it's critical to their well-being.

9. Sharing your favorite shows and movies with your kids when they're old enough is magical. 

10. Even the best teenagers are super-frustrating sometimes.

11. The car is a great place to initiate serious talks with your older kids: you don't have to make eye contact, and they can't escape.

12. Eventually, kids will choose their own interests and preferences. They're usually not what you would've chosen for them, and this is surprisingly hard.

One of our children decided her passion was horseback riding; we later discovered she was allergic to horses.

13. When teenagers inconvenience you by throwing things together at the last minute, it isn't because they're inconsiderate. They genuinely don't realize that everyone else in the whole world (except other teenagers) plans ahead.

14. Frankly, it doesn't matter very much what your style of parenting is, as long as it communicates to your kids that you love them.

15. Making a perfectly reasonable request in your calmest and most pleasant demeanor can still be interpreted by your child as "yelling at them."

16a. The saying "little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems" is absolutely true. 

16b. When you're the parent dealing with your big kid's big problems, you desperately need support that you're unable to get because it would breech your teen's privacy. Sorry. 

17. Appreciate the years when your kid goes to bed early and you're off-duty at 8 PM every night.

18. Be home for your big kids as much as possible. Even when they don't depend on you for their minute-to-minute physical survival anymore, they thrive on the stability of your presence. 

19. Kids love few things more than they love leaving every light in the house on.

20. When giving your older child guidance, never end a sentence with a period. Just ask questions until they arrive at the conclusion you hoped they'd reach, and hopefully they'll take their own advice.

21. Teach your kids life skills. For one thing, they actually start being helpful when they're older, and for another, they'll be ready to leave home one day without being overwhelmed by adulting.

Eight years later, this is finally paying off.

22. You will, because of your older kids' large statures and self-assured attitudes, forget that they're still just kids. But don't worry, they'll do something to remind you soon enough.

23. People aren't exaggerating when they say teenage boys smell and will eat everything in sight. If anything, they're understating it.

24. Moodiness is normal, but if you honestly think your teen dislikes you or is chronically disrespectful to your face, your relationship needs help. (Here's a fantastic book about that.)

25. It's really irritating to be the driver for someone who has earbuds shoved in their ears.

26. Older kids refuse to sleep with a flat sheet. No one knows why.

Younger ones will choose to sleep on the floor in between the wall and the perfectly serviceable bed you bought them.

27. Potty training a toddler is a carefree frolic through the meadow compared to teaching a teenager to drive.

28. Everyone starts out thinking they'll be a chill parent, but sooner or later, they'll be threatening to burn down the house if they find one more empty box in the pantry like the rest of us.

29. It doesn't matter what's in the fridge, your kids will look in it and declare that there's "no food." And then they'll leave the door open.

30. Parenting is easier if you don't take yourself too seriously.

The thing that becomes clearest as you raise a child to young adulthood is that actually, you know nothing. Just do the best you can and never stop trying. With any luck, one day you'll have grandchildren to enjoy while your kids go gray trying to figure this stuff out for themselves.

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30 Lessons from 15 Years of Parenting

To date, I have six kids ranging in age from 3 to 15, and believe me when I say I know a lot more than when I started.

Besides being married and feeding myself, there aren't many other activities I've been actively engaged in for 15 years, so I was bound to learn a few things.

After fifteen years, here's what I know about raising humans, from fun size to (almost) full size.

1. If you think you know what you're doing as a parent, you don't have enough kids. Keep going and you'll get one who proves you wrong.

2. It's not just toddlers who are exasperating. At every age, your kids can regularly make you want to stick your head in the oven.

3. Do things the way they work for your family, even if they're not the way everyone else does them. (Seriously, have the kids sleep in tomorrow's clean clothes or give them the master bedroom if that's what makes sense for your family. There really are no rules.)

4. Kids will try to hang from anything. A drywall patch kit makes a lovely and practical baby shower gift for clueless new parents.

5. You'll forget how hard it was after your kids aren't little anymore. You think you won't, but you do.

6. After you have children, 'tired' becomes your personality. By the time they finally learn to sleep through the night, you will have forgotten how.

7. For the love of all that's holy, make your kids work a lot at home. You are not the maid.

Okay, but maybe don't start this young.

8. Parenting is mostly like being a triage nurse.

9. If you have to get something done but the kids are in your hair, give them 5 minutes of your undivided attention first. They'll be satisfied for an hour and you'll accomplish much more in the end, I promise.

10. One of the best feelings in the world is being needed. The other best feeling, if you're a parent, is occasionally not being needed.

11. When you have teenagers, the eye-rolling goes both ways.

12. Sex talks and discussions about body parts/functions aren't awkward if you start talking when your kids are really young.

13. Nothing smells as good as a newborn baby's head.

14. You don't know what's cool now and even if you did, you wouldn't understand it. If your 13-year-old tells you everyone at school is drawing on clown eyebrows and wearing their underwear outside of their pants, just say 'okay' and try not to think about it too much.

You won't get how they talk, either.

15. Having charts and systems is so worth the effort. It's hard when they're young but it pays off a hundredfold.

16. You don't have to be a good mom in the same way that so-and-so is a good mom. We all have different strengths as parents and that's okay.

17. If your kids' room is always messy, they probably just have too much stuff. Same goes for your house.

18. Teenagers have a way of making you realize it really isn't so bad having someone so in love with you they'll fight to sit on your lap while you use the toilet. (Possibly see #5.)

There is no way not to miss this when they're older.

19. Your younger kids will be raised in the family minivan.

20. Your kids may be a little weird, but they take it to a whole new level when you introduce them to people you'd like to impress.

21. If there's a dumb YouTube video out there, your kids will find it.

22. Teenagers come alive and suddenly get chatty just when you're ready to collapse into bed at night.

23. If you don't really expect your kids to behave in public, listen to you, or get along with each other, they probably won't.

24. Time is weird in parenting. It's impossible to look at your baby and think "this creature will one day be picking up milk at the store for me on her way home from work," but it's almost equally impossible to watch your high school student writing a research paper and really feel like he's the same person whose favorite activity was finding things in the carpet and sucking on your keys. 

25. Take pictures. And while you're at it, write down the cute stuff your kids say.

Just a 5-year-old showing his younger brother how to escape from prison.

26. They changed math since you were in school. No, really. They changed it. You literally cannot help your second grader with his homework now.

27. Making silly sound effects while you're folding laundry is the main ingredient for a toddler's Best Day Ever. As they get older, kids are significantly harder to impress.

28. The younger the child, the better s/he is at locking you out of your phone.

29. Do everything you can to foster good sibling relationships among your kids. They will outlive you, and hopefully so will their friendships with each other.

30. It's best not knowing what's under the seats in the last row of the minivan.

My oldest child hasn't even turned 16 yet, and I've heard that's when things get real. So I fully expect to keep learning, and you should probably expect a post like this one in another five years.

If you liked this post, make sure to check out 29 Things I've Learned in Ten Years of Parenting!

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I Tried It: My 90 Minutes in a Sensory Deprivation Tank

In 2015, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek post about how all moms really want for Mother's Day is peace, quiet, and basically a stint in a sensory deprivation tank. Later that year, my dad asked what I wanted for Christmas and on a whim, I think you can guess what I told him.

And because he's always willing to entertain my wacky ideas, an email gift certificate for a place called FLOAT appeared in my inbox on December 25th.

Where it sat for over a year.

Partly because it's hard to schedule 90 minutes (plus drive time) for something like that when you're a mom. But also, if I'm honest, it's because I was terrified.

I loved the idea of a sensory deprivation tank; I just wished it could be more of a sensory deprivation very-large-and-wide-open-space.

The words that came to mind when I first saw this tank were "commercial dryer" followed by "cremation furnace."

When I was little, I remember visiting a cave with an exhibit outside demonstrating the tight spaces a cave explorer might encounter. On display was a small cross-section of a cement tunnel just barely large enough for an adult to squeeze through, which gave me nightmares back then and still gives me the creeps 30 years later.

I don't think of myself as claustrophobic, just someone who's not a fan of being trapped.

When you go to one of these sensory deprivation places, here's what happens: You shower off. You get naked. You lie in what they call a "pod," effortlessly floating on about a foot of water that has hundreds of pounds of salt added to make you ultra-bouyant. There's no sensory feedback: you're wearing earplugs, floating in the water, with the pod door closed to block out all light.

It sounded great, except for parts like the pod door.

Actually, it was only the part about the pod door. In fact, lying awake imagining an "open the pod bay doors, Hal" kind of situation was what had me hyperventilating into my sheets at night.

But last week my dad and stepmom were here to watch the kids, Phillip and I were planning an overnight trip in the vicinity of FLOAT, and it just made sense to finally put on my big girl pants and use my gift certificate.

I was thrilled when I went online to schedule my session and saw there were two styles of tanks: the classic model shaped more or less like a chest freezer, and the "summer sky" model that was roomy enough to stand up in.

Unsurprisingly, the summer sky was booked solid.

Should I just abort the whole mission? Do it another weekend? Wait for the summer sky tank like every other sane person in New England?

No. I could do this. It would be fine.

Probably.

I made the appointment and announced my intentions to the kids, who were simultaneously horrified and amused. I stated explaining the process but my 8-year-old interrupted me: "Wait, you'll be naked?"

"It's a private room," the 15-year-old told her. "No one else will be there when Mom gets in the coffin."

The morning of my session did not start out well. I rolled out of bed half-asleep, planning to cut Phillip's hair before he left for work, and somehow I hurt my neck while reaching for the clippers.

I went back to bed with a heating pad and was lying there bemoaning my fate when the 3-year-old wandered in with a diaper that had leaked poop overnight. The good thing about being paralyzed is that you can't change diapers; the bad thing is that the 3-year-old threw a fit because he wanted me instead of Phillip.

So at 6 AM I was lying there in pain, listening to the 3-year-old screaming his head off over the sound of Phillip dry heaving at the contents of the diaper he was changing.

Good times.

Later that afternoon, I walked into the blue-tiled lobby of FLOAT. It was decorated with abstract pictures of blue swirls on the walls, and on the counter was a display of KIND bars and stack of books for sale called Get High Now (Without Drugs.) Behind the front desk were two nice young ladies with bull nose rings.

"Have you ever floated with us before?" one of them asked.

I thought the answer was pretty obvious, since between the three of us and the one other person in the lobby, I was the only one without a nose ring.

After I traded my shoes for a pair of blue plastic flip-flops, she showed me to a pale blue room about the size of a one-car garage. Silhouettes of bamboo shoots were painted on the walls and a large healing crystal sat on an end table near the door.

She explained the rules, pointed out the earplugs, and opened the tank to show me the inside. I cannot tell you how relieved I was to see the panic button on the inside of the pod door (she called it a "call button" but I know a panic button when I see one.)

Thank goodness someone thought to install a freakout alarm.

The tank actually looked a lot bigger in person than in pictures, and I had no trepidation crawling in and closing the door behind me.

I forgot how salty the water was, until I sat down and my feet popped right up to the surface.

My neck was still stiff from being old hurting it this morning, and I had a hard time finding a comfortable position. I tried letting my arms float at my sides, but in the end what felt best was lacing my fingers behind my head like a country boy in a Mark Twain novel so that's what I did.

Then I waited.

It was quiet, obviously. I could hear my heartbeat.

I was paranoid about getting the saltwater-on-steroids into my eyes, so I had to fight the urge to touch my face or scratch any itches.

Occasionally, my foot or elbow bumped up against the edges of the tank.

Sometimes I got a feeling of swaying back and forth gently, like I was in a hammock. Other times, I got the sensation of slowly beginning to turn head over heels, but not in an unpleasant way. Sometimes my legs felt like they were made out of wood.

After I got into relaxing, I did enjoy it. It was nice swaying (or at least feeling like I was) in the dark to the sound of my heartbeat. But mostly it was... nothing. Neither good, nor bad.

The whiteboard in the lobby of FLOAT.

At some point I vaguely recall twitching a few times, like you do when you start falling asleep, which was really weird because each twitch was followed by a ripple of water. And then I definitely fell asleep, because I remember suddenly coming to and wondering "Did they forget me in here? I feel like I've been in here my whole life."

I got out to check what time it was, and there were only a few minutes left of my session. So I climbed back in the tank but left the door open this time.

I was starting to get bored.

It was almost a relief when the music came on to signal that my time was up: a peaceful, flowing melody that sounded like the soundtrack of a National Geographic documentary on whales.

I got out and took a quick shower with the provided lemongrass body wash and sulfate-free unscented shampoo, at about which time the peaceful music gave way to a loud and aggressive rap. I couldn't understand all the lyrics, but the gist of it was: "Time is money! Get out!"

Phillip wouldn't be there to pick me up for another 30 minutes, so I headed back to the lobby to kill some time. Turning to the lady at the front desk, I asked, "How long have you been working here?"

"About five years."

"Do you do... it... often?" I gestured toward the hallway leading to the tanks, unsure of the appropriate verb to use. So, do you sensory deprivate often?

Apparently, since "sensory deprivation" sounds like a method for extracting secrets from enemies of the state, people who make a living running places like FLOAT don't call it that. They call it 'flotation therapy.' And the correct word for what you do in a sensory deprivation tank — I mean 'pod' — is 'float.'

She answered, "I try to float once a week."

When I asked what she liked about it, she said she's normally an anxious person, so when she gets overwhelmed it helps her to recall "the peace of the tank."

Okay, so I think I get it.

I guess it shouldn't have surprised me that my experience was kind of... nothing, because it literally was nothing. My senses were given no input for 90 minutes.

The value of floating, I'm thinking, is that it strips away your feelings of stress and negativity, bringing you back to neutral. Regularly floating probably helps you learn to get back to that neutral state on your own when you need to.

I'm glad I tried it once, but I think that was enough for me.

If I had 90 minutes of free time, I think I'd rather spend it outside in nature, or soaking in a regular bathtub with music going, or reading my scriptures. You know, something that also has a positive element to uplift and elevate.

But it makes sense.

After Phillip and I returned home, the kids were crowded around the computer watching a YouTube compilation of goats screaming like humans, and just a tiny piece of me wondered if I didn't want to go back for just a few more minutes of quiet after all.

I survived!

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My Acceptance Speech for World's Meanest Mom

This is an amazing moment for me.

Out of all the mothers that populate this vast planet, you've chosen me - ME! - to carry the title of World's Meanest Mom.

I'm overwhelmed at this recognition of my life's work. There are hardly words to express the gratitude I feel for the many people who made it possible for me to receive this honor.

First and foremost, I'd like to thank my children for their unwavering support. 

Every time I made them carry their own belongings, every time I said no shorts in the winter, every time I refused to buy them plastic garbage at the checkout: they let me know loud and clear I'd won their vote.

I'm thankful for my predecessors, Mom and Dad. 

Not only would I literally not be here without them [pause for audience laughter,] I owe much of my success to the one-liners they taught me like "because I said so," "you'll understand when you're older," and "there's a Mother's Day and Father's Day but no Kids' Day because every day is Kids' Day."

I'd also like to thank the parents of my children's friends for buying them cooler stuff than my kids have and letting them do whatever they want.

I wouldn't have even been nominated for this award had my children not been able to compare their sad lives to that of Trevor who doesn't do chores and gets to stay up until 11 every night watching cartoons on his iPhone.

Last but not least, my undying gratitude goes to my husband.

When I require the kids to eat a bite of something green or orange, he backs me up. When I say no to the seductive song of the ice cream truck, he does, too.

Without him the kids' demands would wear me down like the steady drip, drip, drip of Chinese water torture, but he enables me to be the meanest mom I can be.

At this point, I must stop and confess that I feel somewhat inadequate to receive this great honor.

After all, what have I done to be World's Meanest Mom besides trying to get my kids eat something other than bread and use soap when they shower?

And yet, I think it's the continued striving for greatness that counts.

I believe it was Eleanor Roosevelt who said, "Do one thing every day that scares you," and I can't think of anything that fits that description better than my experience with motherhood.

On behalf of mean moms everywhere, I accept this award and promise to do everything in my power to live up to the title of "World's Meanest Mom."

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37 Things About Me on My 37th Birthday

Today is my 37th birthday, so here are 37 things you might not know about your favorite blogger:

1. I'm never sure how old I am. I was halfway through this post before going "Wait... I am turning 37, right?"

2. I'm a closet free-range parent. I'm not preaching on the street corner about it, but I love the idea of letting actual risk instead of worst-case scenario fear inform my parenting decisions.

3. I don't understand herbal tea. It tastes like grass clippings smell.

4. I think the new Ghostbusters is the best movie ever.

5. Ironically, I think the original Ghostbusters from 1984 is the worst movie ever.

6. Phillip sucks at making sure people leave me alone when we've agreed this is my undisturbed writing time. I've been in here for 10 minutes and three kids have already come in to say hi or ask me where their soccer shinguards are.

7. I drink maybe three carbonated beverages a year, all of them root beer.

8. I love Amazon Prime.

9. I don't ever want a dog. They smell, they ruin your furniture, they're expensive to feed, they lick disgusting things and then kiss you, you can't go anywhere without getting a sitter for them, and you have to clean up their poop.

10. I realize these are all reasons people give for not wanting kids.

11. I have 6 kids.

12. I'm obsessed with cookie dough smoothies.

13. I have Reynaud's Syndrome, where my fingers and toes are hypersensitive to cold. They often turn white and go numb, especially in the fall and winter.

14. I've been told that I parent like someone from two generations ago. I take that as a compliment.

15. My laptop background is a picture of a bird we call Harriet the Male Guinea Fowl (it started wandering around our yard last summer and I thought it was a female turkey so the kids named it Harriet, later to find out it was neither female nor a turkey.) I'm not sure how Harriet came to be my wallpaper and I'm not sure how to remove him, either.

16. As a writer, I brainstorm better and faster with a pen and paper than I do with a computer.

17. I have one and only one game on my phone called Drop 7. I started playing it when I had a million hours a day to kill during pregnancy bed rest in the hospital with #5.

18. My favorite saying is "Use it up, wear it out, make do or do without."

19. I don't use my personal Facebook account. It only exists because I need one to run a Facebook page for my blog.

20. Sometimes I drive to the high school and back four times a day. I can't wait for my high schooler to get her license.

21. I once got mad at my extended family for turning on the Olympics because I'd decided my first baby wasn't going to watch any TV. First-time mom crazy is real, guys.

22. I have 7 tabs open on my Internet browser right now. That's less than normal.

23. A box of foam panels has been sitting in the corner of our bedroom for 2 years. We plan to make decorative panels to absorb the echoes in our living room, but by the time we get around to it, it's likely all the noisy children who live here will have grown up and moved away.

24. I grind my teeth in my sleep. (I've been assured my mouthguard makes me look incredibly attractive.)

Bonus fun fact: I HATE taking selfies.

25. Phillip and I once applied to be foster parents but found out on the day of our home inspection that I was pregnant.

26. I've been a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for 19 years and it was the best decision I ever made.

27.  I hate decorating. Some people do and redo the rooms in their houses for fun, but what I'd like is to pick a paint color and never have to think about it again for the rest of my life.

28. I'm terrible at staying in touch with people. My best friend from college has sent me a weekly email for the last 15 years and if I'm really on top of things, I manage to write back once a quarter. Thanks, Kim, for not giving up on me!

29. I've never carried a credit card balance.

30. Our kids keep breaking things and we have three actual glasses left in the house.

31. Removing ticks from children is a completely normal part of my life. We live in New England, and we have daily "tick checks" from April to August.

32. I met my husband when I was 15. This morning, my 3-year-old brought me this picture from the nightstand and asked "Who's this?"

33. I don't get what's so great about Harry Potter.

34. I wear a dress or skirt to church, and since I feel like I'm always at church events I wear pants the rest of the time. As a result, my not-church friends are always shocked if they see me in a skirt even though I feel like I'm constantly wearing one.

35. The household chore I mind the least is laundry.

36. I say "thank you" out loud to drivers who wave me in front of them in traffic. They can't hear me.

37. I'm almost positive that I am, in fact, turning 37.

And with that, I'm off to attempt birthday lunch with a friend at an actual restaurant with my 3- and 5-year-old in tow. 

If my life were a movie, Morgan Freeman would be doing a voiceover right now telling you that this is not going to go at all how I think it will.

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3 Things I Hate Doing With My Kids (and 3 Things I Like)

Full disclosure: I think I'm a pretty good mom. But the longer I've been at this parenting gig and seen different moms in action, the more I realize how different we are.

We all do it so differently, and I've known plenty of women who are very good moms but trying to parent the way they do would drive me insane.

So in the spirit of celebrating our strengths and accepting our weaknesses, and maybe making everyone feel a little less guilty for hating certain kid activities, here are my mom confessions about things I really can't stand doing with my kids.

I Hate Playing Pretend With My Kids

I have yet to meet a 35-year-old woman who loves playing Barbies, so I hope none of you waste any of your time feeling bad about this. No adult likes playing pretend. That's what siblings, neighbor children, and imaginary friends are for.

A few times a year I make a genuine effort to get down on the floor with one of my kids and play pretend, and after 45 second two things are obvious: (1) neither of us is having much fun, and (2) my kid is a tyrannical despot.

I'm not allowed to do anything more or less than what I'm specifically instructed, and if I make a suggestion ("How about the monster goes over here?") it's promptly shut down with an exasperated sigh and an explanation of how I'm doing it wrong. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT "IT" IS.

I Like Playing Board Games With My Kids

Board games, on the other hand, allow us to play with structure so I'm not just sitting around taking orders and wondering if my watch is broken.

Of course there are a few I won't allow in my house (I'm looking at you, Monopoly and Candy Land) but I'll be glad to play most any other board game, card game, or puzzle my kids want to do. We have fun, and the kids learn about critical thinking and strategy, taking turns, and good sportsmanship.

If this sounds like your thing, I suggest you take a look at this list of best board games for big families. I promise all of them are better than moving around plastic ponies and making them talk.

I Hate Baking With My Kids

From what I can gather from the covers of parenting magazines, "baking together" is the gold standard of parenting. I try making cookies as a parent-child bonding activity every now and then, and only when I'm covered in flour trying to yell over three people who are yelling about who gets to lick the spoon do I remember: I've never once enjoyed baking with my kids.

I'm not a helicopter parent, but baking together turns me into a military-grade assault chopper. Kids use salt instead of sugar. They sneeze in the batter. They demand "I DO IT!!!" and then dump half the measuring cup on the counter and the other half on the floor. And then there's the fighting: who gets to stand on the chair, who gets to stand on what part of the chair, whose turn it is to pour the ingredients...

I've recently realized I actually don't mind baking with only one child at a time — not that it matters. In our household of 8, it's more likely for me to be a first-round NFL draft pick than it is to find myself baking with just one "helper."

I Like Reading With My Kids

I will happily read books all day with my children. We're regulars at the library, where we're known as that family who consistently has 142 items checked out at a time. I've been asked more than a few times by the librarians if I homeschool my kids because we check out so many books.

I read lots of picture books to the little kids, and when they're old enough to read by themselves we pick a book or a series to read out loud to each other. Several times a year, my teenager and I will read the same book separately and then go out for milkshakes to talk about it. We're a reading family.

Looking at this picture I realize we should try to be more of a "picking up after ourselves" family.

(A handy trick I used when my kids were younger: if you get roped into a game of pretend, direct the dolls/toys/stuffed animals toward reading picture books to each other. Then you're still technically playing "pretend," but in a much less painful way.)

I Hate Doing Crafts With My Kids

I have a deal going with my parents: they can only buy my kid "make your own _______" kits if they will make them with the kids themselves the next time they come to visit. Where do I even begin explaining why I hate crafts?

First of all, the minimalist in me has a hard time with creating crap just for the sake of creating crap. Where do you put the toilet paper roll butterfly after you've made it? How long do you have to keep it? And why??

Also, I'm a raging perfectionist, and making a tube sock into an octopus WITH TWO EYES THAT ARE CLEARLY CROOKED is physically painful to me. Not to mention it's a waste of a tube sock. But kids don't care. They don't, and I do, which is why I can't handle crafts.

I Like Taking Walks With My Kids

Going outside and taking a walk with my kids is one of my favorite things to do. We've got no real agenda so we can stop to look at bugs and storm drains. They ask great questions like "why are clouds different shapes?" (The answer, spoiler alert, is that I don't know.) The older kids like to talk to me while we're walking, or they run ahead with each other.

My favorite walks are easy hikes out in the woods. Living in New England, there's conservation land everywhere so it's easy to do.

Even easier now that the youngest is old enough to walk by himself instead of ride in the baby backpack.

Our kids complained about hiking when we first moved here, but it's become part of what we do and the fresh air is good for us. Not to mention that I love taking pictures of the kids and nothing is better for that than natural light.

Some of you reading this article are probably thinking "I hate/love all those things, too!" while others are disagreeing with every single thing I've said, and that's kind of the point.

The great thing is that it's possible to be a good mom with or without the mini-muffins and paper bag puppets... thank goodness.

M/div>

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13 Hilariously Appropriate Sympathy Cards for Parents

Dear Hallmark:

The last time I was browsing in the card aisle, I noticed a startling lack of sympathy cards appropriate for parents. You're missing out on a very large market of exhausted and overwhelmed consumers.

I hope you don't mind, but I've taken the liberty to draw up a few new designs for parent sympathy cards you may want to consider in the future.

Please see the attached list of suggestions.

Sincerely,
Jenny from Unremarkable Files


1. A trying season for any elementary school parent.

2. Check on your friends with toddlers. They are not okay.

3. For the parent trying to put kids to sleep after a sugar high... or wake them up in the morning.

4. Words are inadequate to express the amount of work this is going to be.

5. For those wandering the aisles of Staples looking for tri-fold boards at 9 P.M.

6. It's even less fun when you're the one cleaning it up.

7. We just want to go home.

8. He'll never stay in bed again.

9. Better buy some toothpicks to prop your eyes open.

10. For parents questioning whether vacations are worth it.

11. For the inevitable self-haircut you know is coming.

12. When you aren't watching it, you're listening to them talk about it.

13. It's okay. It had to happen sometime.

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