Attention Walmart Customers

Dear Walmart Customers,

I want to apologize for the massive meltdown you witnessed this evening in the accessories department…and the hair care aisle…and snack foods aisle.

You see, my precious 4 (and 1/2) year old wanted something and she was not pleased with my response (“No, you don’t need that.”).

She then chose to scream and stomp and force tears and get all red faced. Bless her heart, she thought that I’d suddenly change my mind (she was wrong). Honestly, y’all, I don’t know why she hasn’t learned that this doesn’t work with me.

After our Come To Jesus Meeting between the underwear and socks didn’t convince her to find her sanity, I decided we needed to leave before I lost mine.

I went to check out and we left, pronto.

When we got to the car, she then continued her fit, hit her brother and kicked her legs like a madwoman.

All because she wanted something and had been told no.

I just spent the better part of a half our bagging up her toys to earn back. Hopefully, she will be more grateful for the toys she has. Or at the very least figure out not to start a stage 5 meltdown when being told no.

Hopefully, me sticking to my guns will make some impact on her. Because if she doesn’t learn now, she will still act that way at 14 and, well, I’d become an alcoholic and that just won’t fly.

I keep telling myself, “Sometimes being a good mom means evenings of trying to stay calm and hold your ground as they scream and throw a fit.”

I say this, not because I doubt how I handled the situation, but because sometimes you have to repeat things to yourself to keep from losing it on your kid.

Thankfully, tomorrow is a new day. Hopefully, one with fewer tears and more fun.

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Blood or Bond

Since Father’s Day was spent with the stomach bug in my house, I didn’t get a break to finish writing about my own daddy. Here’s my post about him.
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Aside from seeing my siblings and me side by side, you’d never question the biological makeup of our family. Most people tell me I look just like my mother with my daddy’s dark hair and olive skin.

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But, technically, that isn’t possible because we don’t share any DNA.

And that has never mattered.

My dad has never treated me like I was anything less than his daughter.

And when I was a toddler, he made it official when he adopted me and gave me his last name.

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He’s taught me a few things over the years:

He taught me that it is possible to love a child that isn’t biologically yours just the same as any that are. Had I not received that kind of love from a nonbiological parent, I might not have believed it to be possible. And being open to giving that kind of love allows me the close bond I have with LD and JD.

Find the funny. My daddy is a man who can find humor in almost anything. He is never in a bad mood. If you’re upset or you need to lighten up a bit, you can count on him to add levity to the situation.

He taught me that you should never give up on truly, genuinely, good people. They will make mistakes, they will fall, they will not be perfect. But if they never give up on being better than they were; never cease to show their love for you, then they are worth it. Give forgiveness. Have faith.

My dad is just the kind of dad a daughter needs.

He’s the dad who:

Plays catch with you–after working 12 hours in the Texas heat.

Tucks you into bed with a song every time you ask. Even when you’re a teenager and don’t get tucked in anymore.

Cries when he sees you on your wedding day. He’s one of the toughest men I know, but he isn’t ashamed if he’s moved to tears.

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Shows you how to check your oil, air up your tires, use jumper cables and top off all the fluids in your engine.

Talks to you about boys. And pretends not to want to punch them in the face for looking in the same direction as his baby girl.

Tells you countless times that you are smart, talented, beautiful, kind. That you make him proud and he loves you “so very much.”

He says, “Ah, you’re just like your mother,” and means it as a compliment because she’s the most amazing woman he’s ever known.

Chooses triumph over tragedy. He’s been knocked down a time or two but kept fighting. Proud but never arrogant. Strong and humble.

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Of all the things I didn’t get from him biologically, none of it can amount to all I’ve learned from him and how much I know I am loved.

It’s like I tell my kids…

You can be a family by blood or by bond, but love is all that matters.

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Happy blogging,
Adrian