My name is Jean and I used to teach 1st graders at some grade school named after a White President. Lincoln, Washington, Nixon, it doesn't matter what the name was, we're all the same color in the suburbs. Isn't it nice to know that some things never change?
I know some of you remember me fondly from a little column I wrote for the Weekly Insert called The Smiling Lady. I hope you will enjoy my new blog. It's about being a mom and having a point of view. The smile comes with the picture.
Today I wanted to talk about stopping to smell the flowers, sharing a laugh with a friend, and driving a wedge between your children and their mates.
Stop to smell the flowers because they can't stop to smell you.
Share a laugh with a friend even if it's at their expense. Laughter is the medicine of those who can't afford the real thing.
Finally, I'll never see what my son sees in that whore that his children call mom. But that's a column for another day.
Remember, a mother's thoughts are always with her children unless those children are no longer talking to that mother. I know my readers agree. You make one observation about a grand child not looking like the father and all hell breaks loose. Hey, I'm not the one who married a stripper. Until next time, love with an open heart, learn with an open mind, and talk with an open mouth.
I know some of you remember me fondly from a little column I wrote for the Weekly Insert called The Smiling Lady. I hope you will enjoy my new blog. It's about being a mom and having a point of view. The smile comes with the picture.
Today I wanted to talk about stopping to smell the flowers, sharing a laugh with a friend, and driving a wedge between your children and their mates.
Stop to smell the flowers because they can't stop to smell you.
Share a laugh with a friend even if it's at their expense. Laughter is the medicine of those who can't afford the real thing.
Finally, I'll never see what my son sees in that whore that his children call mom. But that's a column for another day.
Remember, a mother's thoughts are always with her children unless those children are no longer talking to that mother. I know my readers agree. You make one observation about a grand child not looking like the father and all hell breaks loose. Hey, I'm not the one who married a stripper. Until next time, love with an open heart, learn with an open mind, and talk with an open mouth.
RSS Feed