Don't destroy her

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2017/01/if-you-love-her-dont-destroy-her/

Yes we CAN! 💪

https://youtu.be/c6Xgbh2E0NM

WOW! Madonna mek me start bawl! Her words really resonated with me.

Last week Bear Esq, out of the blue, asked me "What's a feminist?" I told him that it was someone who supported women rights and that women had the same rights as men. He then came up with a follow up question: "Can men be feminists too?". I now know I'm raising my son right.

I've identified as being a feminist (back then referred to as Woman's Lib) since kindergarten. I rejected the notion that there were things I should do (or should NOT do) because "you're a girl". I've NEVER sat around waiting on a knight in shining armour to come rescue me. It's an anathema to me. I respect men. I deeply love the one I'm married to. But I am not, nor have I ever been, a helpless woman waiting to be rescued - by a man, woman, or android 😊.

It infuriates me to see women play weak and helpless to get men to do what they want. ESPECIALLY when I know they are NOT weak and helpless. I don't support  manipulation - not in men, not in WOMEN!  Many of our foremothers(?) gave their all to get us the rights we now take for granted - education, equality in the workplace. How many of you have a deed to your home or a driver's licence? Wave them high! That's a hard won right. How many of you have your OWN business with YOUR name on it - not your father's, husband's, brothers? OWN that! It's a hard won right!

Let's support each other and stride purposefully ahead to continue build on these rights. Yes we CAN 💪!

In Sickness and In Health

I am, self-admittedly, a BAD patient. I hate being sick and resent not being able to do as I usually do because my body isn't cooperating. So my having a cold makes me REALLY cranky!
Enter Dr. Hunny Bear with some tuff luv medicine. Made me soup (from scratch), and spoon-fed me it in bed. MADE me tek my meds while I protested vociferously about how much I HATE taking meds. Has now taken on my usual Saturday errands run, even as HE is recovering from HIS own bout with the flu. Yes he (correctly) called me a stubborn ass woman and yes, he and my mom are conspiring about cutting a switch off her guava tree. But even though teeth and tongue may meet (and they DO) I know what we have is firmly and deeply grounded in mutual love and commitment.
Thank you hun 😚😙💏💋#23yearsandcounting

I LOVE to cook for my family

I've spent all my life being a tomboy. I steadfastly resisted any efforts on my Mom's part to be a girl or girly. That included learning to cook. However, things changed on that front once I got married and it became my job to fix meals for me and Hunny Bear.

When the kids came into the picture, cooking was relegated to the successive nannies, who sucked BIG TIME at it! Fast forward to 2012 and I'm home fulltime and the nannies are no more. Cooking becomes MY responsibility, ...so I have a go at it. Turn out I wasn't as bad at it as I thought. After successive evenings of the dinner dishes being returned with just de suh-suh bone left on the plate, I figured that they LIKE my cooking. Even more surprising, I LOVE COOKING (for my family).

I'm still tomboy at heart. That'll never change. However, some of the greatest cooks are men, so I don't have to worry about being girly just because I like cooking. And, in sorta keeping with my Mom's tradition, I'm now teaching my sons how to cook. Bon appétit!

We're allwrite

"When the winds of change blow, some people build walls, and others build windmills." ~ Chinese Proverb

In 2014 NOTHING happened the way that I had wanted to or planned. Being a control freak, that irritated me - A LOT! But, rounding the bend to the last quarter of the year, I found that winds of change that I was protesting - A LOT, were God's way of creating an awakening in me. I ended the year feeling more alive, capable, aware than I think I've ever been.

I'm not making... any resolutions for 2015, except for this - I will WRITE more. All other things, I will leave in My Father's Hands. HE'S the one who's really in control.

‪#‎betrue2u‬ ‪#‎unmute‬ ‪#‎LiveOutLoud‬

Notes from a Mom 2 sons

This is a good evening. We're all on the bed. My 8 year old son, Josh and I are reading our individual Reader's Digest (his 11 year-old brother, Nate is helping him with the big words). I'm eating a salad which Nate, my pernickety eater, tries some of  - "I'm open to new things, Mom!"  Meanwhile he's finishing a half glass of milk - another new thing for him. Josh offers to take my salad container to the kitchen because "I want to be a GENTLEMAN!" (His brother teases him that he will never be a "gentle man"). As he leaves, I lay back on the bed that was made up 30 minutes earlier by Josh & I ("ⁿRemember you showed me how to do it, Mom!"). Right now, at this moment, I'm feeling VERY blessed.

He Gone. | CindyBeall.com

He Gone.

July 21, 2014 in Motherhood with 1 Comment

This one.

Noah Christopher Beall.



He took my heart over 15 years ago. He smelled sweet even after he spit up. He smiled with love in his eyes for me and thought I was the cat’s meow. He didn’t want me to leave the room. He always told me he loved me. 

Now he stands over three inches taller than me and his sweet smell has since departed his tall, thin body. His introverted personality needs to retreat to his bedroom away from his extroverted mother and her  “I just want to hear about your day” conversations.  I am 187% certain that I annoy him on a daily basis but at the same time, he still calls me Momma.

(When he calls me Momma, my heart warms and my answers will almost always be yes. I pray he always calls me Momma. But don’t tell him because then he might use it against me and I will be forced to give in. Sigh.)

In 36 days he will obtain his learner’s permit for driving which means HE WILL BE DOING THE DRIVING and his mother will have to remain calm because HE WILL BE DOING THE DRIVING so pray that his mother’s already elevated cholesterol levels do not elevate some more because HE WILL BE DOING THE DRIVING. 

(He’s actually a really solid and cautious driver. Praise you, Jesus, and Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth and good will to men, amen.)

I am still not finished with lessons that I still need to learn as his mom. And goodness me, I have more sons coming up to keep practicing. Since I don’t really know how to raise teenage girls, this is mostly for moms of boys. But, you moms of girls, maybe it will help you, too. Here’s what I have learned along the way and am trying to implement daily:

1. Don’t say much. He’s probably tuning you out after a dozen words anyway.
2. Smile more than you frown. I don’t do this enough but I’m trying.
3. Don’t turn everything into a lecture. Hashtag guilty.
4. Laugh with him as much as possible. This has saved our relationship.
5. Do not be offended. I repeat, DO NOT BE OFFENDED if he wants to talk to his dad more than you. AT LEAST HE IS STILL TALKING.

I would love to tell you that parenting gets easier. The toddler years can be tiresome because you tend to repeat the same things over and over and over again to your little one because they either flat out disobey you, forget what you said or just can’t reason yet. I’m afraid that remains the same in the teenage years. You still have to repeat the same things over and over and over again to your hairy-legged young man. Because he’s doing what he is supposed to be doing. 

He is fleeing the nest.

And good grief, mercy and grace, it is painful. Girls may have more drama but boys? Boys know how to break their momma’s heart.

Doesn’t he know that he has my heart and when he hurts, I hurt? Doesn’t he know that I know what’s best for him? Doesn’t he know that I have 28 more years of experience on this earth and he would do well to listen to me? And doesn’t he know that when he makes poor decisions, I want to run in with my super-heroine mentality and save the day? 

(Somebody get my cape.)

But he doesn’t know. Because he is not me. He is my son. He is not a parent. He is the almost grown child. He isn’t supposed to know yet. But he will know the moment he holds his firstborn child in his arms. And then, THEN, it will all come to him and he will say, “My momma wasn’t crazy after all.” And he will throw me a party.

Until then, I keep the crazy label. 

That’s okay. 



Clearly, he loves pictures with his mother.

(And I promise you he will hate that I wrote this blog post about him. So, don’t mention it, mkay?)