World Moms Blog

There is nothing like spending time with the older generation to make you appreciate the complexities, the wonders and the ironies of life.

For those of us who will be lucky enough to live to a ripe old age, life will come full circle. For those of us who have not yet reached the golden years, comes, instead, the challenges the circle of life present.

There is a good reason that we refer to life as coming full circle.

We are born helpless and totally dependent. Our basic needs are met by others. That is if we manage to even communicate what it is we want by crying, screaming or laughing. That is if we are lucky enough to have parents who are capable of taking care of us. Read more…

I grew up near my father’s parents, and in the summer we would all spend a lot of time together at the summer-house. (In Norway it is quite common to have a summer-house or mountain cottage, where you spend your weekends and holidays.)

My mother’s mum died before I was born, and my mother’s father lived far away. We didn’t see much of him, unfortunately.

But although we saw my father’s parents quite a lot, I felt a slight distance to them. I always felt the need to behave perfectly around them.

I remember that on Saturdays, when I would be allowed to watch a bit of children’s telly, I would walk across the little yard, knock on my grandparents door (which was usually wide open) and ask nicely if I may be allowed to watch that half hour of telly. Read more…

I’ve been lucky enough to look at motherhood from different cultural aspects. From the American side, the Indonesian side and to a glimpse of the Chinese side.

When I was still in the States, I lived a life like most American stay-at-home moms do. I cooked; I cleaned; and, I took care of my son, the ex husband and my stepsons to the best of my ability with the help of my ex husband, of course.

Then I came home for the first time to Indonesia when my son was 9 months old. We flew over 23 hours to introduce him to my parents and my family, just him and me. Read more…

I feel too young to be a nana. Nanas or grandmas, whatever you choose to call them, are old and grey – in my mind anyway. My grandmothers were both old and grey, and I loved them both dearly when they were alive.

One was a “nanny” and one was a “jonnie” (a name that stuck when one of my cousins was unable to pronounce grandma). One lived in Portland,Oregon in the USA, and the other lived on the east coast of Australia. In other words, they were both long distance grandparents. I hated that they were both so far away.

I became a nani on the 27^th June of this year, yet I don’t feel old, and I’m not grey (a few strands don’t count do they?). Read more…

This week’s Friday Question comes from World Moms Blog writer Maggie Ellison.  She asked our writers,

“What is one of your favorite childhood memories?”

Read on to see what some of our World Moms had to say…

Dr. Lanham of Arizona, USA writes:
“My favorite childhood memory is sitting with my grandfather on my grandparent’s front porch in Indiana while it rained. We would have a soda, sit in the swing and watch the rain fill up the lake across the street. I’ll never forget it!”

Read more…

November was National Adoption Month.  I wrote an article exclusively for World Moms Blog about my own experience with being adopted.  It brought back so many memories that I had to keep writing! This is a continuation of that article. Please visit Adoption~Journey Past Life to start at the beginning.

“I am an old woman, named after my mother…….”

….. and my grandmother. And without my grandmother to act as a ‘buffer’ between my mother and I, my childhood would have been a lot worse. Of course, I don’t want you to think that my entire childhood was awful, there were good times. Times when my mother took her medication and times when my grandmother was watching over me.

Growing up, I knew my mother had a regular pharmacy in her vanity. Bottles and bottles and bottles of pills. I just never knew what they were until after my mother divorced my father, which was about 4 years ago. My father finally admitted to me that my mother had some mental health issues and had been addicted to pain meds. Read more…