It's OK to cry in front of them

I had an emotional breakdown today in front of my 3-year-old and it's OK.

Mommy cries sometimes. And the holidays are hard. Being a big kid, an adult, is hard, I told her.

And I wept while hanging onto her youthfulness, shrouded in the shadows of our upstairs hallway.

"It's OK, Mommy."

It is hard, and despite how much I adore the season, every year for the last seven Christmases (this would be the eighth) I've found myself feeling sad. And three years ago that sadness turned to an emptiness.

First, when my grandma, Nana, passed away in 2006 it was difficult to get through the holidays, but making her Rum Cake recipe in her kitchen with my then boyfriend helped me through it. It made it bearable to mix and bake and taste and drink and love because I was doing it in her home. And the years after that just got ... easier.

Breakfast is served!

It's no secret I regularly have a love affair with my slow cooker. Some weeks, we meet every day. And then after that hot, steamy, delicious rendezvous we take a break and I give the oven or stove some attention.

Just last night I perused the Interwebs in search of another tasty treat I could create in my crock. I was in the mood for breakfast.

At 9:30 p.m. my husband joined me at the counter cutting apples while I concocted what, this morning, was possibly the most delicious oatmeal I have ever eaten. Slow cooker overnight apple pie oatmeal.

I'll give you a moment to collect yourselves and wipe the drool from your chin.

30 reasons this relationship works

The Boy and I have been married for five and a half years this month, and while it's not that long in the grand scheme of things (my parents have been married 38 years next July) it's an accomplishment in this day and age. That's not to say I haven't learned a few things in our nearly 11 years together, because the lessons are there on a daily basis.

Things marriage has taught me:

Adulthood cancelled: Mommy's taking a snow day

There are things from my childhood that will forever be ingrained in my memory.

• Kindergarten graduation and getting picked on for wearing a gingham check print dress (I loved that dress).
• Holding Greg's hand under the table (also in kindergarten) because he was picked on by the same kids.
• Making myself feverish and ill every day I had Physical Education until my dad went to school and fixed the problem - again, with the picking on!
• The sixth grade spelling bee ... and almost winning. I will never forget how to spell pennant. Ever.
• Summers by the pool.
• Winters sledding down Dates' Hill, shoveling the driveway and staying outside until I couldn't feel my toes.

No, not all my memories of growing up in that small town include getting picked on for one thing or another. After all, kids are mean and I'm an adult now. I can look past that. What I can't look past is the fun I had, sometimes with the very children who made fun of that cute little dress and that cute little boy.

Difficult nights, fresh starts

"There are a lot of days I just want to crawl into bed and cry because nothing has gotten done, or I've gotten stressed too easily and scolded too many times, or the TV was a better parent than me ... but we'll only be given what we can handle, even if there are ups, downs and compromises along the way."

I hate when I say something and it comes back at me four-fold. I wrote the words above sometime last week in response to a conversation I was part of with other moms about having a third child and the fear of already being overwhelmed with two.

Last night I was short with the girls. Josie got a spanking. I was close to unplugging the TV and hauling it out to the side of the road. In truth, I wanted to pack a bag, get in the car and leave it all for my husband to deal with until morning. He frequently gets the easy part of parenting. I'm the enforcer, he's the playmate - that's usually how it goes, but more because I'm home with the kids and have to be the seat of discipline.

All I wanted to do last night was have a nice family evening together, make some popcorn and watch "The Little Mermaid" with the girls and I couldn't keep it together long enough to even give that to my kids.