No Mom is Perfect!

The latest film to send women to the theaters in droves, Bad Moms, will surely bombard the mom-blog world in the next weeks. I won't review or spoil the film, but I will encourage you to take time away from your families to laugh like you haven't laughed in years. Grab some girlfriends, grab some contraband Goobers, and go out for some feisty fun.


What the movie is meant to do is promote feelings of empowerment for modern mothers. The kind of empowerment I have been dishing on this blog since day one. Parenting is hard. Being a mom is never the same two years in a row...two days in a row...two minutes in a row. We need a village of other women to support us; to drag us off the couch when we want to give up; to keep us from hiding from our kids, responsibilities and husbands. Every mom feels it. Nobody talks about it.


We all have encounters with other women who seem ready to doubt or judge the quality of our momness. A stranger at a party called me a "...sigh...Supermom" in a snide way recently, which irritated me. However, I was able to blow her off because she was only basing it on the number of children I have. What hurts is when friends do it to each other. Why are women always the worst offenders? Women in my circle often remark on my perfection, while demeaning me for it in the same sentence. My perfect baking. My perfect school involvement. My perfect hospitality. 


Those areas of my life are where I might appear to excel because it's how I can show how deeply I care about somebody. I cook and bake for others because it's my hobby, and I love to see the smiles on their faces when they enjoy my treats. That's all. It's not to prove I'm better. It's not to say I don't buy things from stores. I absolutely do! All.The.Time.


I involve myself in school, community and church because I am an extrovert. I am easily bored sitting at home or on the sidelines. I like to help and lead, and for some reason, others tend to want to join when I'm there. I remember what life was like to be a new mom, or new in town, or unable to speak a language, so I jump in to help when I know those needs exist. My children's ages are spread in such a way that I seem to be everywhere all the time and know a lot. It is because I boldly insert myself and ask a lot of questions (hello, extrovert). I like to be aware. Then, I share what I learned to make the path easier for those after me. I do not seek to prove that I know more or am more important. It is simply because I care and hope other parents will find the information useful. As a teacher at heart, I am highly invested in the well-being of all students of our school district, not merely my own. 


As far as my party planning and hospitality goes: I just like parties, because I like people. I love connections. I love friendships. I love smiling and laughing and food. I love kids playing. I love others coming together because, for some reason, they were meant to be in that exact space at that exact moment.


What others may not see is that I would never want to appear unapproachable or intimidating. Truth time: it hurts my feelings when someone says something snotty about me being perfect. I feel jilted when a person whines that I brought homemade treats...again. I'm crushed when another mom says, "Oh jeez, you're in charge...again?" My life is full of imperfection. Full of failure. Full of reasons I need solid, genuine friends in my life. 


It's likely that most of the so-called Supermoms, Perfect Moms and Pinterest Moms you think you know would really appreciate it if you stopped accusing them of being something they're not. Everyone is doing her best to keep her kids away from the next big catastrophe. I'm happy to share my struggles with you. It makes life more fun and more real. I love it when other women share their battles, too. 



Let's review a few areas of my life where I proudly DO NOT excel:



most forms of housekeeping, planning vacations, apologizing to my husband in a timely fashion, knowing what a teenager wants, knowing what a tween wants, knowing what little boys want, returning library books on time, remembering to dry the laundry before it stinks, cooking Puerto Rican food, maintaining my cool when my kids nag me to leave someplace when I am talking to a friend, packing the car for a trip, packing my suitcase, packing my grocery cart to make sure it doesn't overflow before I finish, walking without tripping or bumping into walls, telling short stories, physics, Pinterest and selfies.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Does Motherhood Make Time Move Faster?

Once a week, I receive a notice to buy tickets for my twenty-year high school reunion. I blink my eyes and shake my head in disbelief. Was it really twenty springs ago that I fell sick with senioritis while shopping for a prom dress, with no way to know that exactly twelve months later I would meet my future husband?

What were you doing in 1996? Were you an energetic student on the cusp of adulthood? Were you an exhausted new mom, thankful that the grunge trend helped you hide your unwashed hair? Were you valiantly serving our country? Were you a parent, fearful of the future of computers? Were you already a grandparent, so twenty years seems like mere seconds compared to the number of years you have lived?
 

Mothers hear this saying often, "The days are long, but the years are short." It surely is a fitting mantra for the early years of motherhood, when our lives revolve around feedings and diapers and naps on repeat. We ache for a break in the monotony and a confidant who isn't a babbling drool monster. Then suddenly, smack in the middle of the kids hitting elementary school, a drastic shift occurs. Our days become short and the years even shorter.

I graduated from my Indiana high school twenty years ago, and now our oldest child is about to become a high school student. It does not seem possible that in five years, our son will be the same age that I was when I fell in love with his dad. It's as if that day was yesterday, except yesterday I was a PTA mom with four kids and a husband in the middle of a bathroom remodel, who still hadn't caught up on Downton Abbey. Recently, I shared this strange feeling with my own mom. She laughed and told me that while she knows she's a grandmother and her children are in their thirties, she still feels like she's only forty.

So much can happen in a life over twenty years. What have you done in twenty years? Are you surprised? Has it all been worth it?

As quickly as time passes, I should purchase my tickets to the reunion before it's too late.

 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

 

Motherhood with a Teenager Reveals Blessings

Let me know if you've heard these phrases: "Just wait until they start talking back to you. Just wait until all they do is sleep all day. Just wait until they eat everything in sight. Just wait until they're taller than you. Just wait until they're teenagers. Just wait..."


When a fellow mom prefaces advice with those two words, "Just Wait," I want to smack her a little. I hear it quite often, because gobs of people have lived through motherhood longer than I have. The truth is, no matter what stage of motherhood a woman is in, her future shouldn't be discussed with fear and annoyance. Her present is hard enough as it is, so how does it help anybody to dismiss what's happening now and indicate it's only going to be worse someday?


We have all heard horror stories about the teen years. We shouldn't trek blindly or naively without being prepared for the worst, because some of the worst is surely going to happen. Our paths will be tumultuous. The terrain will be rocky. We'll cross wide, gaping holes without bridges. Slippery hills and uneven ground will bring us to a halt at times. We know. Veteran moms don't need to warn us. We were teenagers not so long ago ourselves. Our husbands were boys, and we were girls. If we really tried, we could recall all of our crazy stunts and the poor decisions we made as teens. We can't believe our own parents survived. We are baffled that we were never kidnapped or lost or worse. We know, Just-Wait-Warning moms. We know what's coming.


As we sit around waiting for the worst, we can try to appreciate the best of our teens. These curious creatures are still the same babies who once were merely a dream to a newlywed couple. We can still see the glow in their eyes and dimples in their cheeks reminiscent of the toddler years. Their sense of humor has wittily evolved from that of the second-grader who loved the tired old Knock-Knock Orange and Banana joke.


Bits of the worst may be in our future, but for now, I'd like to share how I learned to appreciate the wonder of my present teen while picking up dirty laundry.


Laundry is an issue for our family...you know this because I've told you how my system moved from highly inefficient to simply okay. Six people create many loads of laundry, so each child has a hamper in his or her room. Our rule for the past year has been that each child should be placing dirty clothing into said hamper. It sounds simple, yet they do not always do it. Many days, I find clothes and pajamas behind the bathroom door, draping down the stairs, next to the basement couch and in every mom's favorite place: on the floor right next to the hamper. Right next to it! Many times I've been infuriated by this practice. I've beckoned for children to run up two flights of stairs, for the sole purpose of reminding them of proper laundry rules and insisting they follow the rules right then and there. I've cursed under my breath for the inconvenience. I've thrown my hands up in the air, wondering, Will they ever do it the right way? My way?


Some days, I am surprised when I find hampers full of clothes and floors cleared of the heaps of socks and undies. I do love and appreciate those days.


It was one typical day when the clothes were lying beside the hamper when I woke up to my teenage blessing. The sun was shining through the windows, which is pretty rare in our town during winter, so I was in an especially inspired mood. Everybody was at school and work. My Broadway Showtunes Pandora station was cranked up to a volume nobody in the house but I could tolerate. Seeing the jumbled mess of clothes next to the hamper, when nobody but I was home to move them, jolted me.


For a split second, I grumpily thought I should leave them on the floor until school was over, then make darn sure the offending child placed them where they belonged. Then, my mama heart softened as I realized that I will not be cleaning up clothes forever. Someday, there will be nothing left on the floor. The kids will be grown and gone, and I'll long for the days when I could pick up after my babies. My kids. My teens.


There will be no toothpaste on the sink. No unmade beds. No Lego pieces. No evidence of children...anywhere.


I started to cry. I began to mourn the years that are slipping away from us as fast as rockets, and I slowly and deliberately picked up each piece of smelly clothing from the floor. As I dropped them into the hamper, I said these words out loud:


"Thank you for sending me these children. Thank you for keeping them healthy. Thank you for everything we have, even the messes. Please keep them safe. Please keep them healthy. Please help them know how much I love being their mom. Please keep them mine."


As we learn to navigate our new roles as moms to teens, I hope we'll be strong in remembering how much these kiddos still need us. They aren't grown up yet. They forget. They are tired. They want to hang out with friends or read or watch their favorite shows. They're kids. They probably loathe laundry as much as we do.

 

One of my best friends gave me a cherished recipe, with these words of words of wisdom taped to the back of the card:

How Our Family Thrived by Being Less Busy

Last fall, I confessed the embarrassing disarray in which the kids and I kept our family car. The self-explanatory term, Junk Bus, confirmed many hurried families also understand our situation. We spend massive chunks of time in our vehicles.

Even if children ride in an actual bus to school, modern parents are transporting their kids by car/van/SUV to what can feel like an endless collection of activities. Night after night. Week after week. Season after season.

Kids pile into the car after school, with zero time for a leisurely chat at the kitchen table over animal crackers and milk. What's the solution? Portable bites for the ride to the latest sport or lesson or class. What's the result? A messy car. Wrappers left in every crevice. Drinks spilled. Extra shoes and jackets tossed to the floor. Homework papers strewn throughout the seats.

By the end of the evening, we're rushing into the house for showers, stories and bed. Who has the extra two seconds it takes to whisk the trash from the car? At least that was my excuse.

What would happen to our cars, and thus our lives, if we stopped all the running?

By happenstance, our family's schedule took a much needed break in 2015. Starting in May, the activities which used to keep us bouncing around town disappeared. At first, the extra time at home felt oddly wrong. All of my friends were at ball fields several nights a week, but for the first time in eight years, we were not. Our spring was so low key, that after a month of having dinner at a reasonable time, I was addicted to our family being home together. As summer approached, I strived to keep up our pattern of peace. I scheduled almost nothing for the kids to do. Swimming lessons and one football camp were the only plans on our calendar. From the mom who normally signs each child up for at least three events every summer, it was a drastic shift toward simplicity.

Spending days and nights without a schedule was liberating…for the children and their chauffeur. The car remained cleaner, while our yard became dotted with the signs of summer: sidewalk chalk, jump ropes, bubble wands and an array of balls, bikes and scooters. Instead of my bossy barks and their tired whines, the sounds of laughing kids filled the steamy Michigan air.

I dreaded the day when our carefree summer would come to a close. School starting would mean more duties, responsibilities and timelines. What would happen to our lazy nights together? Could we handle the chaos again? An injury sidelined our one child who was going to play football, so our fall also became wide open. Here we were, in new territory once again, experiencing our first fall without any sports or classes. Mark had been coaching every year since 2008, but with football over, he was home. The kids were home. We were all home.

While I don't expect this trend to continue indefinitely, because our kids will eventually choose to participate again, I am relishing in it while I can. The frantic lifestyle is so common, that stepping out of it may seem impossible. Until this year, I wouldn't have considered this break necessary, but now I realize how invaluable it was.

Resting on my nightstand is one of the year's hottest best sellers, The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up. Japanese organizing expert, Marie Kondo, teaches readers to purge their homes of possessions to achieve happiness. Why hold on to a stretched out t-shirt from college that is only taking up space in your pajama drawer? Toss it! It is just as simple to apply her methods to our personal schedules.

We can ask Kondo's famous question of anything we might set our families up to do. 

"Does it spark joy?"

If the answer is no, then we can  and should discard it from our lives. We may be tempted to think that all of these filler events in our days are joyful and continue to do them out of habit or guilt. If we look a bit more closely, we may notice that all of the activities which keep us away from home might be stirring up anything but joy. Are we spending too much money? Keeping the kids out too late? Not enjoying enough family dinners? Putting too many miles on the car? Causing tears, anxiety, stress and burn-out?

The solution is so simple. Erase it. Delete it. Change our life!

My calendar for 2016 is fresh and blank and features photos of cows doing yoga. I'm going to be conscious this year to fill the squares with what matters to my children, my husband and me. What will you do this year that sparks joy?

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

I Miss You...Here's Where I've Been

Peer pressure is some serious business. We all feel it. Well, maybe you don't anymore...now that you're a grown-up. If you don't feel peer pressure as an adult, I'm jealous. Look, there's more proof that I feel it. I feel pressure to be exempt from pressure.


Several months ago, I read these words across my computer screen:


"You haven't posted anything new in 11 days. 221 people who like your page want to hear from you."


What?


Who did that person think she was telling me to come up with something interesting/endearing/clickworthy to share with my likers?


Well, it wasn't even a person. It was Facebook. A computer generated message, coded to pop up as a reminder for business owners and bloggers to keep their pages active, happening and vibrant. To keep those clickers clicking.


A quiet, inconspicuous nudge. Come on, say something. Anything. Bring someone here...to this page...your page. They want you. We want you. Do it.


I read the words, felt the pressure and caved. I typed. I created something for my likers to like. I did what I felt I was meant to do.


One of my dear friends straight out told me, "That's a lot of pressure from Facebook." I LOL-ed and smiley-face emoji-ed at her brilliant comment. (I don't think those are verbs yet, but I'm typing them anyway. I'm screwing teacher pressure tonight).


Life continued as it had for the previous many months. Eleven days between posts had once been a mighty number, so I squeezed it back to three. However, eventually, that high of eleven became nineteen. Nineteen morphed into thirty-three. This fall, Facebook made sure to warn me that my likers had gone a painstakingly 45 days without seeing anything new from their wise and witty Mama (Who Loves You and Chocolate, Too). What had I done? What was I thinking, not writing and sharing and blogging and posting? Where was I?


Don't I wish that I could tell you that I was living the easy life as all four of my kids were at school?


That I was kicking up my heels (FINALLY) and eating all those bon-bons I have been missing out on all these years?


That the breakfast dishes were cleaned up as soon as the kids hopped on the bus, in time for me to work out before my long, hot bubble bath?


That my husband and I were sneaking away for long lunches every day?


That I planned, shopped for and cooked wholesome and thoughtful meals, which were ready at 5:30 each night?


That the children did their homework without hesitation or fuss?


That they happily went upstairs after family book or game time, eagerly brushing teeth and taking showers, allowing us to relax with Jimmy Fallon and our unhealthy addiction to the new Netflix series Narcos?


Don't I freaking wish? If only that were how life was. For a real look into our lives, go ahead and reread those few sentences, knowing that none of it ever happened. In fact, it was the exact opposite...all the time. Our life was the typical, hectic, back to school mess with four kids, plus several medical disasters thrown into the mix. I was forced to give up running and yoga after a hefty injury to my ankle. Yes, again. My feet suck. I miss it more than I could have ever imagined.


Two of the children were/are being treated for some lasting health issues. For one of them, we met with or consulted with nine physicians and specialists. For the other, we are still not to the bottom of the problem and are seeking a second opinion after months of pain and therapy. One of the boys underwent ear tubes surgery, which had to be postponed once during his first medical crisis. Also, it wouldn't be Halloweentime without the family picking up the icky germs. Each morning, as I struggled to open my puffy eyes from another sleepless night, when I thought nothing more could go wrong for us, something always did.


Usually, I only complain to my closest friends, my mom and Mark. They hear the worst from me, They are my people. They know my scary stuff. Even if it had been physically possible for me to sit at my keyboard without crying or falling asleep, you guys didn't want to hear about all my drama. My stress. My major mama worries.


Or did you?


Lately, people have been asking where I've been. This morning, my friend hesitantly, yet dearly, confessed to me that she missed my blog. She told me that she wanted me to know, but she didn't want me to feel undue pressure to come back. It made me smile inside to know that my words have affected her and the others who expressed similar sentiments. I've wanted to be here for so long...I've missed you all. You know how much I hate to admit I can't do something, but spending part of nearly every day in a medical office Is.Just.So.Darn.Draining.


So, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking about peer pressure. The good kind. Did you know there is a good kind? I didn't need Facebook to toss meaningless numbers at me to start me writing again. Facebook pressure has proven to be ineffective on me the past several months. Thank goodness. I'm thinking that I needed to hear from just the right number of people, the exact number of times, that I should come back to my blog. Thank you, Sweet Smiling Sarah, for pressing me.


When I told you in early October that I was cutting back on blogging, I had no idea what was ahead. I was only a mom hoping to figure out her place in a day with no children. I was going to recharge myself to be the best mom ever! I imagined I would take time away from the keys to plan satisfying meals and take steamy baths and meet Mark for relaxing lunches and go on daytime runs and have coffee chats with friends and volunteer at both schools and paint everyone's rooms and magically tidy the whole house using the KonMari Method. If life ever really gets there, I'll be sure to tell you.


For now, I'll tell you that the life of every mom you know is probably overwhelmingly messy. She'll smile and like your pictures and click "maybe" on your invites, hoping that someday her life will calm down enough for her to actually finish that book on her nightstand. Don't give up on her. I won't give up on you either. Send me a note. Post on my page. Let's start talking about what is important to you.


Are you that messy mom feeling pressure? It's okay. I feel it, too, and people call me Supermom. Whatever.

MOUNTAINS. BABIES. PEACE.
 

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

Celebrating Holidays without a Village

When reminiscing about our childhood holidays, we may fondly remember piling in our parents' car, driving from house to house to see the extended families of both our mothers and fathers. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day could be packed with festivities, from morning till night, as several generations lived in the same town. A ten minute drive from one grandma's house, to another aunt's house, and back home again, in time to set out a plate of cookies for Santa was typical. Streets were lined with cars, as every house on the block was hosting a family celebration…gathering with their village.

Fast forward to today. Parents are not always living or raising their children in the same situation that was common for Americans in previous years. My generation is the generation which moved away from our hometowns. We graduated from college and joined a global workforce. We live where wide ranges of opportunities exist, and we are eager to explore cultures and experiences, many of which are vastly different from what we had known as children.

My parents still reside in my childhood home, and my grandmother peacefully lives in the only place I have ever known as hers. I cherish that continuity and safety which exists for me. I love that I'm able to look out my parents' back window to gaze at my kids playing with their cousins…the same yard where I played with my cousins and friends and brothers. I appreciate the moments when I walk into my grandma's kitchen, and she offers me butter pecan ice cream, just as she did thirty years ago. I know how special it is to have these places to return to, not only in my memory, but also in real time with my children.

Yet, my husband and I have not created the same experience for our own children. We aren't able to settle down near our parents or siblings. We are the ones who don't live there. Checking calendars weeks in advance and waiting to see how the weather will pan out is always a part of our visits. Though emotionally close, we actually aren't with our village.

We are not the only family living this way. A large portion of our friends are what we call transplants. So many people have moved into this area to work, from a variety of other states and countries.

So, how do we manage this life, without our built-in village living near us? The answer is two-fold:

First, we make sure that our immediate family, the six of us, is strong.

Second, we work to build meaningful relationships with other families with similar values. We are becoming a village for one another.

As the holidays approach, I reflect back on the farthest place we ever lived from our village. For two years, we celebrated Christmas in  Japan. Although we may have missed out on the huge gatherings of cousins and indulging in our favorite American dishes, we received the blessings of something much richer. Our village was full. It busted at the seams with every other family who was missing home and craved to be surrounded by love. Our children played with children they had grown to know like cousins. We ate, drank and were merry with the friends who were living life with us. They weren't our brothers or sisters, but we felt entrusted to them because of our shared experience.
 

As I wish you a Happy Holiday season, I'd like to extend a challenge to my readers. Some of you are surely long-time residents of your town, while others of you are transplants (like me). If you are a lifer with a big heart, why not open up your village a bit to someone you know who needs one? Supporting a neighbor's child by watching him play basketball or attending her choir concert will help build a feeling of community and family. Extending an invite during the holidays will bring joy in ways you may not even be able to imagine.

To my fellow transplants, I know it's hard to move. I know it can be difficult to find or make that new village, especially if you left one behind that already seemed perfect. I know you miss seeing your own family for the holidays. I know! Until you find your village, try searching for a Newcomers Club in your area…and smiling. You will find your people.

Whether you are living in your village, or an ocean away, there's always room for more.

 

Happy Holidays to my people!!

Just a sampling of the village we made during our Japanese days.  

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/

A Mother's Role Is...

After decades of watching my favorite chefs on The Food Network entice and teach me about cooking, it is still my go-to channel when I catch a moment to myself. I have little in common with most of the hosts, but I still watch. I learn. I relax.

A few years ago, I discovered The Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond. She was a busy mom of four who cooked home style food for her family. I thought somebody like me finally was on TV. Then, I took notice of the manner in which she described herself. She always declared,

"I'm a writer, blogger, photographer, mother…and an accidental country girl."

While I watched her show intently and devoured her recipes, I had a difficult time moving past the placement of her role as mother. I would think to myself, How can she not list mother first? Isn't that how moms introduce themselves?

"Hi, I'm so and so. I have this many kids in grades x, y and z."

The Pioneer Woman boldly did the exact opposite of what I do. Talk about guts. I had never seen anything like it. While I'm embarrassed to say it made me uneasy in the beginning, I grew accustomed to hearing her list.

"Credential, credential, credential, mom."

Why did I find it so strange? Maybe because so many moms I know tend to highlight their position in motherhood before any other of life's accomplishments. Am I sheltered? Old-fashioned? Clueless?

What do you do?

You may have noticed that my own role as blogger has taken a shift these past few months. While I once published new work three times a week, that momentum became increasingly difficult to maintain. Not because I didn't have anything left to say, not because this life became less interesting, and certainly not because I was tired of talking with you.

So, why did my posts slow? Where have I been?

Simply stated, I have been a mom.

I don't need to detail my life as a mom for you. You know what I've been doing. You know because you are a mom, you live with a mom or you were raised by one.

We've talked about fear of failure. The unrealistic reach for perfection. Each Tuesday, Thursday or Saturday that passed by without a post weighed heavily on my mind. People often asked about my blog. I didn't want to disappoint my readers. I didn't want to admit I was easing up my writing schedule. Couldn't I keep up? Shouldn't I just do it all?

I'm here to say that for this mama, the answer today is "No." At this point in my life, doing it all means being all in for my family.

Remember when I said I was having a bit of an identity crisis with my baby going off to school? Currently, we are in week four, and I'm nowhere near solidly identified yet. My kids are doing astoundingly well without me. I know I am still Mom, but I have no one to mother for seven hour stretches. It's a bizarre feeling and a weary way to walk through the day. I'm happy for that bit of peace, yet aching for the company of my boisterous boys and girl.

This week is when I will adjust the settings on my blog. My parrot head schedule is changing. I'm nervous, but it's happening. Will you bear with me through this new stage of blogging? I'm not giving it up or leaving. I'm simply admitting that I have had to move my priorities for a while. I'm giving myself permission to let go of those self-imposed deadlines to enjoy this new part of motherhood: a mom with big kids.  

My proud place in life right now is mother, wife, friend, writer… and official Bringer Togetherer.  I still have space for everybody…including myself.

Let's keep connected on my Facebook page on the days I'm not writing new stories. Share your triumphs and struggles. Ask questions to the community of parents there. You know I love to create meaningful discussion. You can start here:


If you had to list five ways to describe yourself, what would they be? Are you surprised at how they have shifted over the years?

One of my roles as Mom this summer was to race in a Saturday morning Mud Run with my daughter.

I'd love for you to find me on Facebook:
https://www.facebook.com/mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo

http://mamalovesyouandchocolatetoo.blogspot.com/