Two Pine Trees

The daily uniform is blue jeans with a black tee shirt, call me the walking bruise, which is sometimes how I feel when I get caught between the kiddos and their disagreements. I am going to don a black and white stripped shirt, comfortable shoes and go running down court side, because, well, Mama got skills. I am the referee. Nobody talks about the crazy everyday disturbances in homes across America when siblings flex their will towards each other. Parenting begins with coos and cuddles, and when you're starting a family, no one tells you about your soon to be occupation as Mediator-in-Chief. Yet, once we are there, in the throes of a hissy fit with hormonal teens and in-between, you see the nod from others, as if to confirm, get yourself a whistle and call foul! There are days I truly believe that I am in the middle of a hockey brawl and the penalty box just isn't big enough to hold them all. Gracious! I'd like to be put in the box, or at least go to the bathroom without...