‘Tis the season for soul-bending schedules that have moms everywhere asking, “Am I over-scheduling my kids?” It seems every year…scratch that…every season, my family was struggling with the question of “how much is too much?” From my oldest’s first year of AWANA Cubbies and Boy Scouts to my youngest’s last year of high school soccer and basketball, the Gresh family was trying its best to find balance that still created space for the kind of quality parent-child connecting that we so firmly believe is important. When it comes to extra-curricular activities, there is a lot of social pressure from other moms and a lot of debate from medical and psychological experts on just how much soccer, piano, and clubbing is good for our kids.
How is a mom to know what’s right for her children? Scratch that! How’s a mom to know what’s right for each individual child?
If you’re like most Christian moms, you’re committed to praying for your children, but the truth is you struggle to find time to do it and stay motivated. So do I, that’s exactly why I hosted the “How To Kickstart Your Prayer Life In One Hour” livestream. And I can promise you that unless you are not breathing, it’ll push the re-set button on your prayer life. At least, it did mine.
I was drafted into the Mommy Wars when my first baby was barely in my womb. Sitting with some trusted friends, I mentioned the name of my OB/GYN. (Big mistake!) After an awkward moment of silence, one of the other women went on to coyly describe her OB/GYN with adjectives that might make you think he was a borderline miracle worker when it came to pain, God-like in securing the safety of the baby, and had a bedside manner that made him a comedian. In hushed whispers (BUT NOT TO ME), I later overheard the woman suggesting my doctor was virtually a serial killer. (They didn’t think they should tell me that?)
Unless you have a good pair of proverbial boxing gloves, beware of these top ten topics that fuel the Mommy Wars. Number 7 is worthy of the click on the video to get your blood pumping. (Please read with an air of sarcasm, or you’ll be writing me hate mail!)