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My Professional Background - Once upon a time, I wanted to be a motivational speaker. Actually, I was a professional motivational speaker for about 5 years.:

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August 2012
She said WHAT?

This story is told with the permission of my friend as it pertains to her son. And even though I have changed names to protect the innocent, it’s one of those stories you don’t tell unless you ask the mother.

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I post the following photos of our precious son with no apologies but with absolute certainty that someone will look at them and say, “I can’t believe she actually published those photos of her poor son!” And that person will probably be my mother. But that is because she’s long past dealing with daily tantrums – from her kids at least. Yes, that was a crack at you, dad.

I dedicate the following photos to my son who will, God willing, make it to adolescence. And he’ll no doubt get that surge of testosterone that seems to deprive the male brain of enough oxygen. And, I assume he will one day find himself in a serious relationship that causes him to feel like he wants to act on his urges. I’ll sit him down and speak to him about the beauty of marital sex and how abstinence is a temporary state, but it will absolutely bless his future wife. And THEN I’ll show him every tantrum photo and video I can find to help him understand the consequences of satisfying those urges prematurely. But I’ll leave out the part where even married people who wait until marriage have kids who throw tantrums. But why bog him down with details? It’s called shock therapy.

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I don’t like to think that my husband and I are lazy parents, but we totally are. In some ways. I’m not exactly proud of it. But let’s just be real here. Take this scenario, for example:

It’s 10 p.m., and we realize we have NO MILK. If you know our two-year-old, you understand what a freak-out-and-call-the-coast-guard moment this is for us. But instead of either of us hopping in the car and driving approximately 13 seconds to the nearest store or gas station, Brian concocts a plan.

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Motherhood. There’s nothing quite like it. I would venture to say that Martha Stewart’s sentence vacation in a federal prison was more like a Caribbean holiday compared to the trenches of motherhood. I bet no one pooped on her in there. No one stood next to her and purposefully peed on her foot like she was a human fire hydrant. I doubt she was subjected to Wonder Pets. And then was horrified to catch herself singing it the rest of the day. I bet Martha got to watch all the Judge Joe Brown her little heart desired. And I confess that I envy her for that.

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