Updated weekly. Usually on Tuesdays. Unless some small person eats my blog post.

Thursday, July 21, 2011


As per months of contemplation, I've finally moved the blog back to WordPress.


Don't worry, the contest is still the same. Only instead of sending people to carolynnthedyer.blogspot.com, please send them to carolynnthedyer.wordpress.com.

And then come and join me yourself!

There's a new header, new layout, new ways to follow, and ALL the old posts. Come on, whatchya waitin' for? Click on over!

Tuesday, July 19, 2011


I've written a poem. 

For this, I sincerely apologize. 

In an attempt to make it up to you, I'm turning this into a game. Read the poem, make a guess as to what/who the Ode is written to (either via the comments or email), and everyone who is correct will be entered into a drawing for a totally awesome prize that I'll announce when I come back from vacation in Utah (read: I haven't found it yet, but I definitely will!). I promise this prize will not be child- or mommy-centric, so you won't have to be either to enjoy it. 

Last day for guesses is July 31. One guess per poster, please! Want to earn extra guesses? Share this post via Twitter, Facebook, or any other social media platform, and post where you shared it along with your extra guess. 

Please note, your guesses will have to be specific. Meaning a general guess such as "housework" (i.e. a category instead of a specific type of housework) will not count. Feel free to email with questions!


Ode to ---------

Lofty goals that mothers make
Include not eating too much cake
And keeping you, my dear old friend
In check;
A goal to send me ‘round the bend.

For you, my soul, are always near
Always present, always clear; 
With need for me to take the time
To wash
A pile a mile high.

Methinks, at least just once or twice,
That to be done would be so nice.
But then I think, What would I do
With me
If there was no you?

Fly to Paris, dance in Spain, 
Maybe take some time rein
In my children, who like to scream
And cry
When’ere I try to keep you clean.

Not that they dislike, perhaps,
It’s just that washing and timely naps
Never seem to find a way
To coincide.
Alas, and curse the day.

My time with you is ever sweet
In torture and in triumph neat. 
Water soothes the tortured soul
And reminds
That a shower-less week takes its toll.

I hate you when you’re dirty, true;
And love it when you’re clean, I do. 
I know alone I’ll never be
My children will dirty you just for me.

Monday, July 18, 2011

Monday Mantra

You can't punch a migraine in the fact*, but you can be happy if you've a mind to.

*Please note this typo. It was brought on by the migraine. And I STILL can't punch the dumb thing in the fact.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011





in a 

different way.

Here's hoping you enjoyed yours.

Monday, July 11, 2011

Monday Mantra

Parent with laughter, and pray the rest comes out right.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011


I say things, and then suddenly become paranoid that I've ruined my children forever. And then I google it because google is the oracle, and inevitably some amazing guru of child-rearing has at some point said that you should never ever never EVER say/allow/do whatever I just said/allowed/did. 

Alas, how my children suffer. 

If I give them a treat, they’re inevitably instructed to "Eat it all up." I'm just trying to prevent a mess (Huh?! How DARE you try to be convenient at the expense of your children?!), but then I’m struck by The Guilt. Here I am, teaching them that they must consume every last sweetly-sticky bite of their treats. They’ll become gluttons, I tell you! What will their first Halloween out of the house be like?

 No, those are lollypop sticks, not cigarettes. StrawBee  totally knows better!

I must prevent such a crisis. So I try to counteract the candy thing by telling the girls to eat healthy so they can keep growing and get tall. However, Ladybug has latched onto this "tall" thing, and now I'm certain she's going to spend the rest of her life worrying about being tall enough. And since short genes are all she’s got, this is either going to end in extensive surgery or stilettos. 

All the rage this summer.

I can’t have a child of mine growing up to be taller than me--*cough, hack*--excuse me, I meant; risking her health like that. So I told my beautiful girls that they are just that: Beautiful. Perfect in the way God made them. However they are, so long as their hearts are beautiful, they are beautiful. 

Did you know that children have selective hearing? 

“Beautiful” is all they got out of that one. 

Which led to this: 

Notice me NOT panicking here.
Way to keep it a non-issue, mom.
I thought I had at least 10 years before I heard this.
Lecture #321
She totally gets this, you know?
Because please beats paper, rock, AND scissors!

Eventually I thought to tell her that only grown up girls communicate with makeup. She, of course, retorted that she was grown up. I told her that when she was grown up to 14, THEN she could have makeup. 

She was delighted. And now she reminds me every day that when she’s 14 she gets makeup. 

Parenting: You just can’t win for losing. 

Monday, July 4, 2011

Monday Mantra

Fireworks make everything better.

And chocolate cake sure doesn't hurt.

And homemade ice cream.

And family you haven't seen in ages

And this is far too long for a mantra.

...Happy 4th!
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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.Creative Commons License
This work by Carolynn Dyer is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.