Ahh, summertime and the living is ... hectic! Once upon a time it was easy, but then you introduce all of those responsibilities and it's just hectic. Sometimes a conscious choice has to be made about where in your life to spend your hours.

Wow. It's been 20 years since 1988, the year I graduated high school. 1988 was a flurry of super mega hold hairspray, dark eyeliner, and big decisions. Where would I go from here? I could have never predicted the crazy paths my life has taken.

Lately I've been feeling pretty stressed out. I realize that I'm in a tangled mess of secrets & lies. Secret: most nights are sleepless. Lie: I can do this all by myself. Secret: I'm frequently on the verge of tears. Lie: I'm fine.

Being a military wife sometimes means dealing with more than your fair share of stress, and it can be easy to feel overwhelmed. Especially during deployments, and especially when you have children. Your days develop a strange texture

The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. And moms too, it would seem. Long story, short version: I removed a large quantity of toys from my daughter's room due to misbehavior (hers) and ultimatum (mine). The toys would be returned when the behavior was modified.

It's been a long time since I've sat down to write a blog entry. My minutes and hours are taken up with the tasks and responsibilities that fill up my life—family, school, work, housework.

It was overall, a horrible day with a few bright spots. There was much errand-running. The 3 year old pushed my buttons (she's headstrong. Where ever does she get THAT from??). The 5 year old tried to help. The 3 year old did cute things. The 5 year old showed me how good his reading skills have gotten...

Hi my name is Mari and I’m a soccer mom. Though I don’t have the stereotypical minivan, I now have two kids with their own soccer balls, fungus-resistant polypropylene water bottles, reversible jerseys, and shin guards.

I have been living in the nightmare that is potty training. My very headstrong and beautiful 3-year-old (almost 4) has issues. She is not interested in using the toilet for, let’s call it #2. I have tried many tactics, both positive and negative, including bribery, stickers, candy, toys, time-outs, reasoning, and pleading. She will not budge.

“Mom, you didn’t get me socks. You just want my feet to be cold!” Oy. My son is at that age where every conversation may contain a perceived slight. He lives in a very black-and-white world and I’m trying very hard to show him the gray areas, the other way of looking at things that is necessary, in my eyes, to be a good person. This is one of the difficulties of parenting, and there are myriad others; a parent is tasked with a huge responsibility.

When I’m trying to do too much, when I’m trying to be SUPERMOM!, life has a way of stopping me before I get too invested. If I’m in a hurry to get the kids’ lunch and water bottles for school, you can be sure that I will drop ice on the tile, and it will break into pieces that are scattered and big enough to demand I pick them up or they will leave a puddle that I will surely step in later.

I make my own decisions. I do the best I can. I answer for my mistakes and my successes. I try to do the best I can. Most nights I sleep well with the decisions I make. I love fully and try not to judge. I try to smile more than I cry....

Sometimes responsibilities can be overwhelming. In a day, I wear many hats—mother, woman, employee, driver, social secretary. I make three meals a day and do the shopping dishes, and laundry that never seems to stop. I try to clean the house as often as needed and stay on top of clutter.

I don’t know if I could be described as an early bird or a night owl. I’m more of a noon kind of girl, but I have discovered the pleasure of finding stolen time in the early morning hours.

Whose was the brilliant mind that thought a 3x per day medicine for a child was a good thing? I ponder this as I try to stay awake until midnight so my daughter can have her dose of amoxicillin to fight the fever and miscellaneous other symptoms she has acquired.

My son asked me if I ever get a day off. I don’t remember what prompted the question, but I do know that I was elbows-deep in dirty dishes and the kids were having a meal (which one escapes me; during these holiday-break days they have kind of blended together).

My children have a favorite game lately. They like to jump on each other until one of them inevitably ends the game by screaming or getting hurt. They play it frequently and with vigor, and it usually involves yelling, tears, and time-outs. While complaining to a friend about the drama of my day, she gave me the best advice I have gotten in years: “remember that it’s happening to them, too.”

“Mom, where do babies come from?” A question we parents all expect, but from a five year old? Oh I’m not ready. How to find an age-appropriate response to this question while keeping true to my goal to be honest and not overly sugar-coat the truth? Where do I even begin? Why is he asking me?

It’s 9am and I’m finishing my first of many cups of coffee for the day. The kids are playing and darting back and forth between their rooms as I type, whispering their plans and voicing their toys’ wishes to one another. They ate all of their breakfast without tears, and I am relieved that the morning was free of drama. I just got off the phone with my husband—it’s just after midnight in Korea, January 1, 2008.

Christmas is not the same without your husband there. Daddy is on a year-long remote assignment and Christmas was looking less-than-festive this year. I planned a road-trip with the children to Wisconsin to visit my family, attend a few weddings, and enjoy a big, messy family-style holiday. The Oklahoma ice storm changed my plans and the road-trip did not come to fruition.