My mom is officially done with all of her cancer treatments! Yeah! Now this does not mean that she is all good. She is still bald and way tired and her body hurts and she has a long road ahead of her to find a new normal, but the chemo and radiation are done. And that is worth celebrating! So we threw a party.

The Ethan I was thinking of had a mom that looked like Barbie. Literally. Giant boobs. Tiny waist. Bleached blonde hair. Size 2 the day after having a baby. Wore high heels every time I saw her. Lots of make-up. Always done up. The kind of mom that sticks out at the school dance festival or basketball game because she looks unreal to us less fortunate than her.

Homemade cleaning products are all over Pinterest. I’ve seen them but haven’t been that interested. Getting out of bed, getting the kids to school, and getting dinner on the table, is enough for me some days. And why would I want to go to the trouble of making something when I could just go buy it? You gotta pick and choose your to-do list as mother.

I am going to use my own Parable of the Pickle Jar to convey a belief I have about parenting. Here goes: My hands or my grip must be weak because I often can’t open up jars and lids or even sippy cups. And my pickle jar is no exception….

My friend leaned over to me in Sunday School yesterday and said something like, “You are doing a General Conference post right? I need you to post some ideas… like tomorrow. Could you get on that?” So I am on it, just for my friend, Sarah.

Since the new school year started we are in a pretty good morning routine around these parts. After my school kids get out the door, I just let my 3 and 5 year old play in the morning. There is something to starting the day unrushed and unscheduled. And there is something to riding bikes in pajamas.