I'm a proud Proverbs 31 failure: Why I love A Year of Biblical Womanhood

As I gaze at Proverbs 31, the supposed Biblical list of what a woman should be, a "Biblical Woman", I realize just how far short I fall. Reading it,  I feel like a failure, an outcast a freak.  I can't rise early, I can't sew a straight line, I can't cook gourmet food, and truth be told I don't want to.   I can't be a Proverbs 31 woman. What I can do is put together one heck of a mission trip, write awesome curriculum and preach a damn good sermon. Sadly in some Christian circles that in itself brandishes me a failure. To them it's sinful for me to be in a leadership, especially if men are involved and learning from me. Even the big "hipster" churches that would welcome my tattoos and my colored hair, would never let me on their leadership team, because I have a vagina. So like many women I could easily look at what the Bible has to say to and about women, see the way the church classifies qualities of leadership, and walk away feeling more broken, hurt and confused. Alternatively I could try and conform, trading the gifts, God has given me for things that make me miserable and crush my spirit.

It's not just the circles of Christendom that cause me to feel this way. Society puts pressure on me as a mom, my family traditions too. I went straight for the epidural. I served my babies mixed drinks of breast milk and formula.  I won't wear the high heels and make up that to my mom, symbolize a grown woman. I dye my hair colors that can't be found through Loreal or Clairol, and I have gone and covered up God's "natural Beauty" with a bunch of man made art. I have never sewed a Halloween costume for my kids. My house is only ever somewhat clean, and only when company is coming. I am a womanhood failure on many fronts.

It hurts to live with that idea of failure, and it hurts even more to realize that as marginalized and discriminated as I feel, there are women that are truly oppressed and enslaved, simply because of their gender.  I abhor this, and I despair at the thought that the Christian community is part of this. I want more conversation about women's equality, I want all churches to fight for it. This is why I was so eager to read, A Year of Biblical Womanhood. In this book Rachel Held Evans takes this conversation to a whole new level. I have been reading Rachel Held Evans blog for a while, and when the opportunity came to be a part of her Launch Team and read the book early, I was all over it.

Rachel Held Evans decided to challenge these scriptures and these ideas about the roles of women in her book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood. She does not shy away from them, or let her failure crush her spirit, she confronts them head on, and tries to put them into practice, literally.  From calling her husband master, to camping out in a tent during her period, Rachel wrestles with the Biblical mandates. The results of her experiments in Biblical womanhood are quite funny, and I identify with a lot of them, especially her struggle with sewing. This line sums my sewing frustrations up, "the skills required for sewing just happen to include four things I stink at - patience, cutting a straight line, working with machinery and fractions."(p.80).   As Rachel tries to live up to the ideals that some have extracted from scripture, it makes for a very fun read, that helps you appreciate just how entertaining the Bible can be.

Rachel also examines the roles women have taken on in different faith traditions, from Quiverfull, Amish, Orthodox Jewish and more.  With grace and humility Rachel finds that there is no right way to be a Biblical woman. She also learns from the women that she once judged and made fun of, and finds practices that she actually wants to employ herself. Rather than tearing women down, Rachel celebrates their faith, even if it weirds her out. As a sarcastic, snarky person myself, it was awesome to see Rachel find beauty in the practices of many faith movements that she had once made fun of.

Rachel's husband Dan adds a lot to the conversation too. Some of his journal entries from the project are included, and they reveal a husband who struggles with these things along with his wife.  His support and the challenges it presented to him, make this book a must read for guys too.

Some of my favorite parts of the book were Rachel's profiles of women in the Bible. On careful examination of some of the prominent and also lesser known women of the Bible, Rachel finds that they were all different, all flawed, and all used by God to reveal himself to others.  She forces us to look at these women and the story that God told in their lives, even when that story is ugly.

Rachel's honest and educated attempt to wrestle with challenging scriptures was a breath of fresh air. I love what she challenges us as readers of the Bible to do "For those who count the Bible as sacred, interpretation is not a matter of whether to pick and choose, but how to pick and choose."... "Are we reading with the prejudice of love, or are we reading with the prejudices of judgement and power, self-interest and greed?" (p.296). Rather than throwing Bible verses at us, she reveals what it means to chew on God's word.

Rachel also reminds us that the discrimination we face in American Christianity as women, is nothing compared to what women around the world face.  She gives an account of a trip she took to Bolivia with World Vision, and puts faces and names to these women. She reminds us that women everywhere are fighting for their lives and the lives of their children, and she calls us to action.

Rachel researched, challenged and practiced just about all of it. She saw how impossible it is to live up to these supposed Biblical Standards, but she also saw there is no such thing as one set of standards for Biblical Womanhood. In her research she releases all of us to be the women that God created us individually to be.  She doesn't hold us to a standard, rather she shows us the standards are impossible. She gives us all freedom to be Proverbs 31 failures, and to celebrate the different ways each of us lives out our faith. I cannot say enough good things about this book. Whether you are a Christian or not, it speaks to our insecurities as women and forces us to confront the ideals and traditions that have been handed down to us. It is hilarious, inspiring, humbling and quite simply fantastic.

The official release date is next Tuesday, but you can already find it on Amazon, and in some stores.

Sticks and Stones, Jesus and Vaginas

"This CD has three songs that don't say Jesus, I want my money back", "They said butt on this cd, I want my money back", "they said sucks on stage, I want my money back for this T-shirt", these are all things I heard while working my husband's Christian band merch stand. Never mind the fact that we were touring the country in an Econo-van, spending our nights listening for hours to teens all over the country trying to encourage them, and have some good, "clean" fun. The guys in the band, us wives, we weren't Christians apparently because we didn't say the right words. Maybe they had never read the canonized holy scripture, that does not contain the words God or Jesus, the book of Esther. Words it seems are very important to Christians, and if you say the "wrong" words, or you don't say the "right" words, well, you don't get to be in the club anymore. It doesn't matter what the message is or how hard people are working to share the love of Christ, if the words are wrong, it's invalid. This CRAP infuriated me then, and it infuriates me now, and yes I know crap is an unacceptable word for Christians.

Now the exclusivity of acceptable words and Christians' ideas that they have the power to judge something Christian or not, is rearing it's ugly head again, over the word vagina. Rachel Held Evans wrote an amazing book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood, in which she examines what it means to live out the words that scripture has in regards to women, literally.  I'm halfway through her work, and it is a wonderful examination of scripture that has been used to hurt and subjugate women for years.  Words used out of context.  Rachel examines different cultures within Christianity and how they live these words out, and she does so with grace, gentleness, and humility. She also does it with honesty and correct anatomical language, she says the word vagina. That word apparently disqualifies her work. The Christians at Lifeway have decided that her book cannot be carried in their stores because of the word vagina. They seem to care more about the offensiveness of that word, than the discrimination women have faced because they were born with a vagina.  The message of Rachel's book is lost to many because of a word.

Censorship in the vagina-gate form, or in the form of not accepting something as Christian because it doesn't say Jesus, is hurtful and has no place in Christian community. Worrying that we are going to offend someone in our presentation of the gospel just because we used a word, is limiting what God can do and is doing through us. I do not try to create controversy when I speak in front of groups of people, be they groups of youth or a congregation of people on a Sunday morning. I speak the message that God and I have wrestled with, the words he has laid on my heart.  I speak honestly in the language that comes naturally to me.  When speaking to certain groups, I do try to be sensitive to those that are hearing me. I try to know my audience and present my message accordingly.  I do not want my message to go unheard because I offended someone. If a word like crap slips out, or sucks;  I expect some grace, especially from a Christian audience. If I mention the problems of homelessness, the environmental crisis, people terrorizing abortion clinics, or my tattoos, I don't expect to be censored, and yet I have been.  The entire content of my message was lost due to these things, I was branded liberal by some and unchristian by others.  It seems we Christians have little tolerance for words or each other.


Jesus used a lot of words, they are the red ones in that book in the hotel drawer, in case you were wondering.  He used words that shocked his audience, because as a "rabbi" he talked in everyday language, so that every person could see and understand God.  He used words that turned his audience's way of thinking upside down, like when he said, "blessed are the poor". The words that Jesus said were not okay to say, were the ones used against another person, to hurt them. Calling your brother raca was elevated to murder. Elsewhere in scripture we are encouraged to use only words that build one another up and encourage. Jesus also talked about not judging. His emphasis seemed to be not on the words used, but how they were used, were they used hurtfully?

 A major Christian chain deciding not to carry the book of someone who has spent over a year researching scripture and earnestly trying to live it out with grace and humility, because they used the correct word for a part of the female anatomy, is hurtful.  Christians should be more offended by the fact that people are treated differently or badly because they have a vagina, than the word itself. This form of exclusivity is bullying.  It is saying, "you don't talk like me, so you don't fit in here, you are out". It's equivalent to sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting, "la, la,la" because someone is saying something you don't want to hear. When, when will we Christians be able to focus on living out the words of Jesus, and not the words we hear or don't hear from our family of God?

Tattoo Story #4- It's got nothing to do with luck

All work done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton,OR

As the phelbotomist put the blood draining needle in my arm on the claustraphobic bus turned blood bank, she asked me if 13 was my lucky number.  I get asked this question on a regular basis, as I knew I would. I have after all, an orange and yellow star emblazoned on my arm with a 13 in the center. That 13 has nothing to do with luck though, and everything to do with a good choice, covenant and a God who can get you through anything.

13.5 years ago, I made one of the best choices ever, I married Valentine. He made the same excellent choice in choosing me.  We continue to  make that choice everyday, and have for these 13 plus years.We had a whirlwind long distance relationship prior to that day in May, but we knew for certain that we had chosen well. Val and I met in line for the bathroom at a show that some friends were playing, and he happened to be in the opening act. We realized we had a lot of fun together. We could make each other laugh with our twisted, sarcastic, bitter humor. We enjoyed a lot of the same things, and we just loved to be together, though we were hardly in the same state. So we didn't wait year and years to get to know each other, we just knew and we dove in and made a choice. We got to know each other very quickly as we traveled in a van with 7 other people for much of the first years of our marriage, sharing a bench seat together. We moved in and out of various apartments.  We finished college, started our careers and most importantly, or life changing, had two kids. Over the years we learned a lot about each other, some good, some bad, but somehow we always managed to have fun.We made a good choice, but it wasn't just a choice.

We made a covenant. We made a covenant with ourselves and God that we would stick by this choice for good or bad. It is a sacred promise. Thankfully, we both made the same promise and commitment. Whether times are fun or not, we are in this together, till death do us part. We work at this choice, together. There were no easy years, every year had it's own joys and struggles.  Each year on our anniversary though, we both knew we had made the right choice in making this covenant and choosing each other. We are committed to that choice too, whether we happened to like each other at the time or not. Marriage is a choice, every day, to live with and submit to each other. Some days we are good at that, a lot of days we aren't, but we still choose each other. Some see that choice as a shackle, but to me it is freedom.  There is freedom and peace in knowing that I get to spend the rest of my, or his life with him, with the person I want to be with most everyday.  No matter what, unless it's death or debilitating brain injury, we have each other. Why would I not want to be with the person who loves me most in the world? We entered into this contract together and we both take it very seriously.

The God that we entered into covenant with has our back too.  He keeps up his end by helping us through, and between the two of us, we can usually see how he is working in our lives. He is there for us, so it's not just us alone. We have a third party, and intermediary, someone to turn to, when that other person is driving us nuts, or when neither one of us has the strength to encourage the other.

Work on the right done by Michael Facchini
at Blackhole Tattoo (West) in Beaverton,OR

On our tenth anniversary we got the sugar skull tattoos.  Sitting in a tattoo shop as two artists give each person a tattoo at the same time may not be romantic to a lot of couples, but that is part of what makes us perfect for one another.  To us it was special, it was a one of a kind (they match but they are each different) reminder to each of us, that we made the right choice for till death do us part. We had stars put on for every year of marriage, and each year we celebrate by adding another.

Our thirteenth year was particularly difficult. Deaths, Illness and floods made for difficult days together. Just as we would clean up the mess for one thing, we would get slammed by something else. At the end of the day though, that same sick sense of humor would get us laughing, and God brought friends to our rescue on more than one occasion. We survived all of it together and we wanted to celebrate that with a special star, a victory star.

I made a great choice over 13 years ago, and our marriage has nothing to do with luck.  I have an amazing husband who loves me.  I never make the bed, I leave messes behind me as I go about the business of workaholic youth pastor, and I continue to tattoo my body.  He may not like the messes, but he puts up with me, and he loves each new tattoo I get. While they turn some people off, well, let's just say for Val it's the opposite. He loves me, he makes me laugh, he fathers our children well, he works hard to provide for us no matter how hard, or annoying the job may be. He perseveres through depression and anxiety to be there for us.  He also gets ridiculous tattoos so that when he is old and decrepit we will still have something to laugh about, he lets me put swings up in the kitchen, encourages the addition of my dream dog/horse to the family and allows painted chalkboards on the walls. He encourages me to be my best self, he challenges me, and he makes me laugh, just about every day. I didn't get lucky, I made a damn good choice, and so did he.

With great power comes a HUGE amount of responsibility...

Pardon the almost Spiderman quotation, but I can't get it out of my head. There is this huge responsibility that weighs on your shoulders as a parent, that strikes fear in your heart and it has nothing to do with your powers to provide, but with your child's powers to do things in the world.  You wait, and wait for this baby, hoping and dreaming and decorating.  Then you bring the baby home, and sometime between the feedings and the diaper changes you think to yourself, "My God what have I done," and it's not because you are tired and sick of diapers, it's because you realize you now have to help mold this person to be a good member of society, a decent human being, and you suddenly doubt your ability to do that. What will they do?  You may be confident that you can sleep train, and potty train your kid, but can you really teach them to make good choices, to treat people well?  Typically then the icy feeling of fear grips your chest, but luckily you are so sleep deprived, it doesn't keep you up at night, at least in the beginning.

I got that jolt of icy fear recently as we brought a new baby into our home. Ted Theodore Logan (by the way it's from Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure) who we call Theo, is a Great Dane puppy.  He is not a human baby, we can put him in a crate and leave the house, his diet is simple and while he has issues sleeping through the night, and we are cleaning up his crap, he is easier than a kid.  Never the less, that fear gripped me like it has not done before with our other dogs. Unlike all of our other dogs, Theo will outweigh us.  He will be taller, bigger and stronger than Valentine or myself.  So we have this HUGE responsibility to mold him into this gentle giant.  Luckily, as with our kids, genetics are on our side.  He is predisposed to being a decent, nice dog.  His 200 lb. dad sauntered up to us very gently and leaned very lightly into me as my kids pet him and hugged him.  Still though, we have to train him, we have to practice good behavior with him, we have to show him the ropes. We have to give him structure and discipline.  Again, this will probably be easier than it has been with our kids.  We will be able to better control his environment.  He won't be going into the world very often without us, and certainly never unescorted by a chaperone.  He might be easier to deal with than our kids, but that sense of responsibility and that cold icy fear are there. He will be a very powerful dog, and it is our job to help him learn to use that power responsibly.

As I think of trying to help my kids, and my dog learn to use their powers wisely though, it causes  me to question my own.  I have great power, but do I use it greatly?  I get to speak into people's lives, especially young people, on a daily basis. People find out very quickly when I meet them, what I do, so they know that I follow Jesus.  Do I show that well?  Am I a good example?  Do my actions and words accurately depict a good image of Christ?Do I use the influence given in good ways?  AAGH, the icy fear is creeping back into my chest. Luckily it isn't only up to me, I am not alone.  I have God with me, I just need to listen to him.  I have a community of other believers in my church, my friends, my family, to hold me accountable, to help me to be the follower of Jesus I need to be. Just as with child rearing and dog training, thank God, I am not alone. Still, am I being responsible with my great power?  Are you?  Is there structure and discipline in your life of faith, are you training yourself well to follow Jesus, are you listening to him? With great power comes great responsibility...

Long live the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and their crazy little Leprechaun friends.

My daughter yanked out her loose tooth on the bus to school the other day.  She then preceded to stash the thing in her pocket all day so she could put it under her pillow for the tooth fairy.  Her dollar was found the next morning, under her beloved Curious George toy, that has to be in bed with her every night.  I delighted in all of this, I treasure it, because as unremarkable as it may seem, she is in 5th grade, and she still enjoys the magic of the tooth fairy, and a good stuffed animal.  I love this!


When people hear that our kids still enjoy and entertain the mystery of the Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus, the Leprechauns, the Easter Bunny etc, we have been given mean looks, literature, exasperated sighs and more. Some have told us that introducing our kids to these characters will cause them to question God, faith and the existence of Jesus, because we have lied to them.  This infuriates me, possibly more than other parental judgements that are put out there, like breast milk versus formula.

As far as magical, mythical, characters, and the carrying on of their traditions goes, if it adds to the fun and wonder of my children's childhood, AWESOME! Their childhood threatens to be over too fast, every day.  They are not sheltered from the hard things in life.  They have experienced death of friends and loved ones, sickness, and the general struggle and unfairness that life can bring. Reality is not hidden from them, but we encourage, perpetuate, and revel in the continuation of the delight they have in Santa, the Tooth Fairy and friends. We want them to have fantasy, wonder and fun and we will work to continue that for them for as long as we possibly can, and then we will do it for their kids too!

As for their faith, I want them to question what they have learned.  I don't want them to take what I say about Jesus to be the ultimate fact that they must believe whole heartedly, and never question.  Because if they never question it, well, their "faith", or more accurately, my faith will implode on them.  It will cave like a house of cards. Faith, following Jesus, believing in God all need to be personal to them. When the veil of fantasy is lifted on the Tooth Fairy someday, they may wonder what that means for God.  While they look to the santa tricks, and the pretend games they will see us, but, when they look to the stories of how our family was formed and has come through things, I hope they will see God. I hope that they will know and see Jesus because He has been in front of them daily through the people in their lives that are following him.  As we and our friends try and apply Jesus teaching to the ways we live our lives, and treat others, I pray that we are able to model faith, and who Jesus is well.  As we attempt to learn scripture and apply it to our lives in our decision making, in our joy and struggle, hopefully they will see who God is, and they will decide to trust in Him too. I hope our love for them will model the unconditional love and acceptance of Jesus.  They know our church community is flawed, they have a pastor mom, but hopefully in the love, care, and fun they have experienced there, they will come to know their place in God's body. From us they will see all kinds of things modeled good and bad, and they will hear lots of conflicting messages. They will internalize all of those things, and the choice will be up to them.  I don't know what they will choose, but I do know, good or bad,  those things will speak louder than any thank you note from Santa.

If you do not want your kids involved with the likes of these questionable characters, that's cool. That's your deal, you can create fantasy and wonder for them some other way. Just don't roll your eyes at me, and keep your literature with studies and such to yourself.  Oh, and if you are the person that ruins this for my kids, watch your back.

The girl may know differently, but if she does, she keeps it to herself and plays along.  She eagerly awaits the fun, the magic, the escape from the day to day. And you know, even when she is far past that, when her wisdom teeth are removed, she is still going to get a visit from the tooth fairy.  When she does, I doubt she will be bitter and angry about the deception her parents perpetuated.  She may roll her eyes, but I suspect she will delight in the fun and wonder, and the memories of teeth under pillows, plates of cookies for Santa, and green Leprechaun footprints on the counter.

I am a dinosaur on the verge of extinction

I am a dinosaur on the verge of extinction. I am clinging to the ground on the edge of a tarpit about to be sucked in. I am a youth pastor (or as some would prefer I say, youth director).

In junior high I quite clearly felt the call of God, and if you don't get that, I'm sorry, it's not easy to put into words. I knew this was what I was supposed to do, and all dreams of being a zookeeper went out the window (although there are some similarities). I had my parents who warned me that it was going to be rough as they lived through years of church drama, a high school teacher who told me it wasn't economically sound, and a college professor who told me if there was anything else I thought I could do, I should do it, because this was tough.  This job has always been more than the money, more than the drama, more than just a job.It is not my identity, but it is a huge part of who I am, what God gifted and created me for.  Youth ministry as a calling and a career has it's limits though, like the tiny arms of a T-rex. 

It is an honor and a privilege to walk with students and their families through the dark years of adolescence, and help them to see that God is with them, he loves them, and his plans for them are amazing. It is by no means easy though.  Each year our group is totally different as kids graduate, move up grade levels, or move away. The ways that we minister to students is always changing, as each generation has different technology and challenges. You can rarely use the same curriculum twice, you can't count on those that you are serving to even show up every week. It is a lot of nights, weekends, and weeks away from your own family.  It's a lot of tears shed with families through tragedy, and tears shed for students who you know are hurting themselves. For all the challenges though, it is amazing to see the growth in students, to build a community where they feel safe being themselves and to help them understand who Jesus is. It is exhilarating to see students change and become life changers themselves, to help empower them to make a difference in the world. That privilege though, is threatened everyday.  Churches are constantly downsizing, and the first to go is always the youth pastor. While we are the ones constantly evolving to meet the needs of those we serve, we are the ones easily dispatched at the first signs of trouble in a struggling church. We get the short end of the budgeting stick always.Many churches are taking their youth and children's ministries to part time positions, and those churches suffer.  Or they hire one person to do what I do, cover ages preschool through college, and then we get spread very, very thin. It is a privilege to work as a youth minister, but it's not something I can cast aside or move on from, it is my evolutionary handicap, and right now I am a cold blooded reptile on the verge of the ice age.

There are bigger churches, with bigger budgets, that have staff coming out their ears, but for me, most of those churches are not an option, because I am not only a youth pastor, but I am a girl. God may have gifted and created me to do what I do, but for a lot of churches, many of those big, cool ones, my gender makes me unqualified to be a leader.  They interpret scripture in a way that makes what I do a sin.  That makes my blood boil.  How, how can you look at the work I have done for sixteen years, and say that God was not a part of it, that I wasn't supposed to do it? God made me a woman, God made me a leader, and so I guess God also made me a dinosaur.

So I am a dinosaur, running from that volcanic lava flow of shrinking budgets and archaic theology.  I am trying to live as the person God created me to be, for as long as I can.  I will do my best to survive and walk with students.  And if you see me working the register at Target someday, a fossil in my red polo and khakis, know that I fought hard.  Gaze at my bones on display, picked clean of the work that brings me more joy than heartache, and know that I tried.  I will follow God into the tarpit, I am a dinosaur on the verge of extinction.

NOTE: currently the elders of my church are not in discussion about  this, they have taken the idea of laying me off, off of the table for now.  This is the reality though, for many of my colleagues and could be the reality for me in the future. Like many other professions these days, youth ministry is waning, and youth pastor hours are being reduced or eliminated and have been for years.

Confession: I am a frustrated parent who just yelled at her kids.

This parenting stuff is HARD.  Can we be honest about that, and not put guilt on that statement, like the cherry on a Sunday?!?  Children are wonderful gifts, that we as parents chose to bring into the world, yes, that is correct, and we are blessed, especially so if they are healthy, able, naturally conceived etc. Yes, that is true, but no matter who the child and how they came about it is HARD, and at times it sucks and is so frustrating you just want to scream.  Then inevitably you do scream, most likely at the object or child of your frustration, and you feel like the biggest a- hole in the world.

Can we really be honest about that?  Can we really without playing the one up game, as to who has it tougher.  I am a full time working parent, that is very grateful that I will not have to also be part time stay at home mom anymore, as both of my kids will be in full day school in a week. I try and work, and stay home, and then go to work later, and that is hard, but my full time stay at home friends get just as frustrated with their kids.  My full time working friends do too.  We al,l no matter what our parenting situation want to walk away at times, throw in the towel, and give up. Somehow though as parents, we aren't supposed to talk about that too loudly or to too many people.

Why can't we? Teachers can complain about their students, grandparents, aunts, uncles, daycare providers can complain, but because we choose to bring these kids into the world, we aren't supposed to.  We are supposed to treasure every moment, be exceedingly grateful, put our lives on the back burner and suck it up.  Well, when my kids fight all day for the 5th day in a row, when I have been working very hard to help them have an amazing summer, I can't suck it up, because it just SUCKS! I want an hour to myself without yelling, butt wiping, food preparing, crap cleaning etc; that isn't at the crack of dawn, at midnight, or in the car. I want to then not feel guilty about that hour and have regret for all the things I should have done for my kids.

Realize that a lot of nights after our kids are in bed, my husband and I, in the collective 20 minutes to an hour we have together before one of us goes to bed, will marvel at our amazing children.  We will revel in their personalities, their silly stories, their amazing smiles. We do love and adore them, and we absolutely wanted them, and will want them forever.  That does not change the fact, that we also often yell at those precious little faces in sheer frustration, as they for the thousandth time do that thing we asked them nicely nine hundred and ninety nine times before not to do.

Then there is the problem of how much you might be screwing them up because you are frustrated.  It seems as if their entire future rides on how you handled your frustration when they peed their pants for the hundredth time or got out of bed for the millionth. You might scar them for life, they may tell horror stories about you to their friends for decades to come. Ohhh so many things to worry about...

But instead of picking up another parenting book, I am just going to be honest.  I am going to say with no guilt attached, that I am a parent that is frustrated, and I yelled at my kids today.  I am not going to follow that statement with a declaration of my love for them, or how grateful I am.  Hopefully, you will extend grace to me, as I do so, and realize that I am not an ungrateful, first world problem focused drama queen, I am just a parent having a bad day, so here goes:

Today was a parenting fail, today sucked and today I am not happy with my kids.