I hope I’m beating a dead horse. Preaching to the choir. Whatever. But here goes:

I’m not looking for a Nobel prize for the life choices I’ve made and the work I do. I love being a mom, and that’s enough. I have but one request: acknowledge parenting is hard. I don’t have all the answers, and neither do you.

In my vast experience (nearly five whole years) with my many children (um, two) I have learned that all children are different. They bring new meaning to the word individual. I remember being pregnant with my second child, smiling smugly as I envisioned applying the sum of my mother-of-one wisdom to my new baby, thus rendering motherhood easy. You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? Unless, of course, you have less than two children.

Then my daughter arrived — smiling equally as smugly — and proved ridiculously different from my son.

Consider me humbled.

From that moment I decided I had a duty to remind parents that our job is a lot like physics. We’re constantly applying different theories with the hope we’ll find the answer to our biggest question. Like how some physicists are all hung up on learning why our universe is the way it is and cannot be any other way. We parents just want to know how to raise our children. We want them to be healthy, happy, successful, confident, intelligent. Or, depending on the moment, we may just want them to sleep through the night or poop on the potty.

This is my long-winded way of saying, “Welcome to my blog.” There may be more questions than answers, seeing as I don’t know what the hell I’m doing am not an expert (who let me have two kids?). But I invite you to watch as I muddle about trying to unleash the awesome potential I see in our children.

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