Margie Sims. Mom of Ten.  - Helping You Prepare Your Kids for Liftoff.
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Remembering My Mom
Hurricane Elvis
Storming the Castle
Thirty One Years

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The Green Tennis Ball
My High Flying Tiger
Proms and Prayers
A Good Sign
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The Big Picture


Remembering My Mom

“Losing your mom is harder than you think it is going to be,” I reminded my friend recently, still raw from the loss of her own mom.

“You’ve got that right,” she agreed.

This time of year always gets to me– when spring is in the air, as the 17th anniversary of my mother’s death approaches. I will simply never forget her and all she meant to me.

In my mind, I saw her in the moon last night as it rose above the rooftops across the street. I cannot see a full moon without thinking of her. Maybe my memory deceives me (


2018 was a banner year for the Captain and me:  we became Gigi and Grandad.  Jubilee Kate arrived on July 6.  Can you see the resemblance? 

Son Matt and Melissa announced about 18 months ago that they were going to adopt before they attempted to have biological children.  They wanted it that way so their first one would know that he or she was chosen. 

Matt is in the military and wouldn't have to pay a red cent for a biological birth.  Instead, he and Melissa chose to tackle the mountain of money and the mountain of paperwork required.

Thirty One Years

Cleaning out for our move, I came across my old journals. 

From the time I was a senior in high school until the day my first baby was born, I journaled almost every day.  I recorded with great detail nearly every thought, fact and conversation I had from the first time I saw my husband until the day we got married. Had to share this little gem from 32 years ago. 

"On my way out of church I spoke to Robert Sims for a few seconds, wondering all the time if he notices me like I notice him--but desperately trying to cover it up in casual conversation.

Me? Sick?

I started feeling a familiar pain in my lower back last Friday night. Kidney stone, I self diagnosed, as I had had one about 25 years ago.  Over the years, it has surfaced here and there, but if I drink lots of water it works its way out.

Two aspirin didn't help.  Two Advil didn't touch it.  Late into the night, the Captain noticed I was a little restless.  "You okay?"

"Yes.  Kidney stone.  Just need to drink more water," I said.

Organized Schmorganized

I have a confession to make:  I despise organization.
Don't misunderstand.  I would love to be organized.  But I am convinced my abilities are limited.
Getting ready for church, for example, was a nightmare when I lived in the Bible Belt back when church attire was in a class by itself.   Finding shoes and socks that matched 18 feet was a routine Sunday morning frustration--also in a class by itself.  One morning we were down to the wire and I was frantically throwing shoes out of the shoe basket, crying, "I 
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