We Live With An Elf

I love Christmas.  I truly love everything about it.  I love the tree, the baking, the music, the decorating, the gifting.  I really have always enjoyed this time of year, but this year, something is different.  We have a preschooler who is old enough now to be really into Christmas, but young enough to be untouched by any outside cynicism.  His innocence is pure joy and it’s infectious. The spirit of Christmas is alive in our home.  And it’s wonderful.

It actually feels at times like we live with an elf.  I don’t know how else to put it.  My three and a half year old is an elf.  The amount of Christmas spirit this kid embodies is astounding.  Even by my estimation, and I start listening to Christmas music around Halloween.  His excitement for the season brims over throughout the day.  Christmas carols can be heard pretty much at all waking hours and even when he is supposed to be sleeping.  You can walk by the door to his room and hear “Jingle Bells” most every morning.  And when we are out and about in the world, he greets his fellow humans with a hearty “Happy Holidays!” “Happy Kwanza!” Or “Happy Harmonica!”  He is equally excited for ALL holidays. It is all joy to him.

Being around this amazing child is a constant reminder of the good that is inately in people.  He is a human reminder of the joy and wonder that lives inside us, somewhere.  I am infinitely lucky.  I get to remember the wonder and feel his joy every day. It becomes my own.  My child makes me believe in the good of man.  He makes me believe in Magic and, of course, Santa Claus.  It is such a gift to see the season through his eyes.  A gift I want to never end.

My wish for you this Holiday Season, is to see Joy, through a child’s eyes.  Allow yourself to believe in the good of mankind.  Let yourself believe in the impossible.  Remember, believing is seeing.  I am sure I sound like a broken record. But I am the luckiest mommy in the whole world.  I believe it.  So it is so.   In the words of Nancy Tillman,

          Your tree may be large as the room will allow

          With a big yellow star on the upper most bough

          But of one thing I’m certain, I’m sure of one thing,

          It is LOVE that makes the angels sing.

Thank you, my little O, for showing me what Christmas is made of.  And for making the angels sing.  Oh how they sing!  Happy Holidays Everyone!

Until next time, thanks for reading.  And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Joyous Noel! Xo


The Secret To Happiness

I practice gratitude on a daily basis.  I’ve been doing it for a really long time.  I started long before my husband and I got married and, in turn, before our awesome son was born.  I mention them, because these days they are what I am most grateful for.  But my life wasn’t always so full.

I remember when I started my first gratitude journal.  It was over ten years ago.  More like fifteen.  I remember reading about gratitude in some Oprah book.  I was in between gigs (which always led to some level of anxiety and uncertainty within me).  I didn’t have a stable relationship with the man I was “dating.”  I knew, somewhere in my gut, that the relationship had no real future.  I was in my thirties.  Divorced.  I didn’t own my own home yet. My family was wonderful,  but they all had their own lives.  I was on the slow boat to figuring it all out.  In fact, I remember wondering, if I ever really would know what true happiness was all about.  I recall feeling like I needed to try something to get my head in the right place.  Writing a list of five things I was grateful for each day seemed pretty painless.  And according to Oprah, it was uber powerful.  I decided to do it.

I know it may sound ridiculous to those who have never tried it.  But this simple practice actually changed my life.  I started slow.  I had to think to name those five things everyday.  Somedays it would be things as simple as the clean water I get to drink, or the beautiful weather.    I actually started seeing the world around me in such a different way.  Roadblocks became opportunities.  I learned to appreciate what was right in front of me instead of always looking to the next thing.  My focus throughout the day became looking for the positive things I could add to my list.  And day after day my gratitude grew.  My attitude shifted and my heart became happy.  My inner voice became clear and loud within me. Gratitude didn’t just change my life, it changed me.

This Thanksgiving I am filled with gratitude for all I have in my life.  These days naming five things is a breeze….my daily list could fill pages and pages. But in the spirit of honoring this simple practice that I believe in so wholeheartedly, I will make a list.  Five things.  It’s the secret to happiness.  I promise.

  1. My wonderful husband
  2. My amazing son
  3. Our health
  4. Our home
  5. My parents

Until next time, I encourage you to get yourself a notebook, pick up a pen and name your five things.  See what happens.  And remember, behind every great kid is a Mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks so much for reading.  Xo

Mummy MIA

I will NOT gloat. I will NOT brag.  I am well aware that the success we enjoyed on our vacation to Disney World was an absolute crap shoot.  It could have easily gone awry.  It could have been filled with tears and tantrums, snot and sass.  We somehow dodged the bullet and had an amazing time.  O was unbelievably good.  He rolled with everything.  I am still amazed.  He exceeded any expectations I had (although, as you know, I kept them very low.). It was absolute joy and we can’t wait to go again.  Let the countdown begin! Again!

So since I can’t complain about my child’s behavior on our trip, let me let loose on a real parenting fail we witnessed whilst in the happiest place on earth.  Its unfortunate to see.  You think, wait, this is a place for family vacations and being together, right? I suppose there are all types of families and all types of a-holes.

We were enjoying the zero entry pool at the Animal Kingdom Lodge one day and this little girl decided to attach herself to us.  She was British and very chatty.  She was 5 years old.  I looked around to see where her parent or parents might be?  Strange to see a 5 year old on her own in the huge pool. She clearly could not swim, though she protested she could.  Her attendance to us became a little awkward as she started to hang on my husband while he was holding O to swim.  I told her it wasn’t safe for her to jump on anyone in the pool.  She then waded back to where she could stand on her own.  A woman appeared, who I assumed was her mother.  The woman told the little girl to watch her little brother.  And off the woman went.  To the bar.  In fact, the whole table of “adults” from that “family” were sat out of good view from the children in the pool.  Now little Chatty Cathy is in the pool again hanging around us while her 3 year old brother wades in shallower water.  He had swimmies on his arms, but really? 3!!! Alone in the pool with a bunch of strangers and his barely treading water 5 year old sister!  Mind you, this pool is HUGE.  I asked Chatty where her parents were.  She pointed to the bar area, “over there somewhere.”  What the heck, people!  Are you kidding me?  You don’t leave children (5 & 3) in the hotel pool by themselves.  Are you complete idiots?  As a parent, are you thinking, “Well, someone will watch them.”  ??? Like the parents who are actually IN the pool with their kids.  Like us?

Listen, I get that we ALL NEED a vacation.  I get that we are ALL in vacation mode.  But just because you are in Disney World doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen to kids there.  AND…you don’t get to take a vacation from your kids in Disney World.  If you wanted alone time, you should have left them at home and went to some adults only all-inclusive where the drinks are free, as clearly that is where your head is at.  As parents we don’t get to take a respite from our duties of caring for the well being of our children.  It’s a 24/7 job.  Sorry.  Even on vacation. And this isn’t about letting your children be free and not helicopter parenting…..this is about safety and, I don’t know, maybe spending some quality time with your children! Who am I to say, right? And, yes, it certainly does takes a village.  But when the parents vacate the village for the local watering hole, leaving their young to latch on to just anyone, it really pisses this villager off.  If you don’t understand the incredible privilege you have to be a parent, then you certainly won’t understand my point.  We GET to be their protectors!  It may feel like a job some days, but make no mistake, it is a special opportunity, not enjoyed by everyone.  It is my humble opinion, that if you piss away that time (yes, I just said piss away), you are a fool.  End of rant.

Until next time, I’ll try not to rage on.  Remember, behind every great kid is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks so much for reading.  Xo


P90X or PB&J

I was at the park the other day with a bunch of moms and their children from my town.  I am, undoubtedly, the oldest of our group.  I realize that our ages make little difference.  We mostly talk about our kids.  We watch them interact.  We bond over parenting trials and triumphs. The differences in our children’s ages seems more apparent than our own ages.  At least from my perspective.  The other mom’s could totally be thinking, “Who is this old lady?”  Lol.  But, Ok.  I digress.

So we are at the park and someone brings up some work out DVD. I was going to write video, but that really glorifies my age.  It may not even be a DVD, but some type of “on demand” thing you can subscribe to.  You, by now, are getting the idea that I have no clue or interest in any kind of P90 X, Y or Z.  Someone brought up the 30 day diet or challenge or fix… or something.  Again, I have no clue about anything paleo, Atkins or Zone.  I had to actually google “diets” to find those.  Did you know there is something actually called the Taco Diet? You literally only eat tacos for thirty days.  That’s insane.

When I was younger (in my 20’s and 30’s) I was a vegetarian.  When I turned 40 I started incorporating meat into my diet.  Not a crazy amount, but I realized I really liked a good steak every now and then.  I ate clean.  Healthy.  Fast forward to present day, 47 year old me.  I’m on the PB&J Crust diet.  It’s when you eat the remnants of your child’s meals to stave off hunger, or, let’s be honest, just because it’s there.  My breakfast intake yesterday consisted of 1 spoonful of yogurt, 1 peanut butter covered slice of banana, and a morsel of spinach banana muffin.  All from the picked over plate of my son.  My lunch was the diet’s namesake, a PB&J crust, plus 1/4 of his unfinished sandwich and a handful of graham bunnies.  Delicious.  No wonder I eat all Willy Nilly the rest of the day.  Now this isn’t everyday.  There are days when I am actually conscious when parenting and make myself egg whites and avocado.   But some days it’s like I am in a trance and what happens between my hand and my mouth is all but a blur.

Now I can tell you for a fact that my younger self would have never let herself eat so poorly.  She would have never let herself gain 5 0r 10 pounds.  It just would not have happened.  But as I age and I don’t have to think about wearing costumes onstage now, I am way more relaxed about what I eat and, in turn, I am more relaxed about what I look like.  I think there will be a limit to my madness.  (Like I’m pretty much there.) But I can’t imagine myself being crazed to be thin, like I was when I was younger.  I remember believing my worth was directly correlated to my appearance.  I suppose, in my line of work, there may have been some truth to that.  But I think I took it further than just work, especially when I was 20 & 30. I think I believed that I was lesser than if I wasn’t aesthetically at my best.  Ah, youth! This 47 year old feels sorry for that silly girl.

Don’t get me wrong.  I want to be healthy.  And power to any mom who gets herself to the gym!  I admire anyone striving to get back their pre baby body.  But I gotta be honest, being over forty puts you at a big disadvantage.  Recovery from anything takes so much longer, let alone pregnancy and childbirth.  Ugh.  This PB&J Crust Diet is all fad and will have to go, for sure. But as long as my clothes fit (cause I LOVE my clothes)  I don’t mind too much if I’m a bit softer.  Well, a lot softer.  I’m the happiest I’ve ever been and it clearly isn’t correlated to my appearance these days.  I guess it just means that my mind is the healthiest it’s ever been.  And I’ll take that.

Until next time,  keep fighting the good fight.  And remember behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks so much for reading! Xoxo





Great Expectations: How to Enjoy Disney World With Your Three Year Old

As I write this, I am sat in the window seat of a 747 with my son next to me and my husband on the aisle. We are headed to Florida. Disney World to be exact. I am mildly relieved, thus far, as with only one hour to go, things have gone pretty well. One word. iPad. I think I should write Apple a thank you letter.

I’ve decided the only way to approach this vacation is to anticipate it being the most stressful, horrible, un-relaxing experience I could imagine. That way, anything more positive than that is a win. I think it is the only way to approach ANYTHING with a three year old. That way we are not imposing unrealistic expectations on our son and, somehow, it helps to keep our sanity intact. There will no doubt be backlash later in the day for allowing two hours and forty minutes of screen time, but for now, all is quiet on the O front. And I’ll take it where I can get it.

They say flying in the morning with a child is best. I kind of have to agree. Our son, at least, is the most agreeable early in the day. This ungodly hour (5:30 am takeoff) won’t wear well on us later today, but again, for now, there is a sense of peace and calm. One Bloody Mary each and all seems right with the world and our present situation.

Expecting nothing from the first time you take your child to Disney is easier than it sounds. If we truly expected nothing, we probably wouldn’t go. Or at least we would go somewhere way less expensive. That way the sticker shock wouldn’t slap you across the face and add insult to injury. So as much as we tell ourselves to have no expectations, you kind of just do. And if you are like me and my husband, you grew up going there with your family and you have all sorts of memories and attachments to the place.

I guess I have to remind myself over and over that my child is only 3. I have to try and put myself in his shoes a bit on this trip. If I get tired and overwhelmed, what must he be feeling? If I am hangry (yes, hungry and angry) how does he feel? There is much to enjoy, of course, BUT it’s all new to him! His senses will be on overload, no doubt. It’s entirely unrealistic to expect him to just roll with everything and foolish of me to think it could even be possible.

So these are my self imposed rules: I will try to keep my cool. I will try to let go of any expectations I might have. I will try to take in all the magic of each moment. And, if certain things aren’t quite magical this trip, well, there is always next time. Here’s to a wonderful vacation at Mickey’s house. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Until next time, keep your fingers crossed for me. And remember, behind every great kid is a Mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thanks for reading! Xo

Back In The Saddle

Well, hello! It has been quite a while, friend. My hiatus from writing just might be over. I have taken a long enough pause to re-group my thoughts, to step away from the rage inspired by ridiculous politics, and to muster the courage to feel that, somehow, perhaps, my words might actually matter. It has been a long needed respite. If you have stayed with me through this nothingness, I’m truly grateful. I couldn’t expect it of any reader. If you are new to my musings, I invite you to go back to the beginning. Take the journey which will lead you to where we are now – an advanced maternal age mother (now of three years) navigating her way through preschool pandemonium. I have matured in my mothering, but the certainty of it all still eludes me. I feel I am now wise enough to know the uncertainty will most likely never go away.

I have not stopped thinking about writing. It has always been at the forefront of my thoughts this past however many months. I’d have to go way back to see exactly how long it has actually been since my last post, but I think it was last May. Even before that, my posts were becoming few and far between. After a gut wrenching election cycle, the state of our nation was really getting me down. It felt like I couldn’t not make every post about something political. That isn’t what I had set out to do. Also, I began teaching voice and acting at a fantastic arts academy. It takes up quite a bit of time for prep work. Time I used to use to write. The teaching has now expanded, which is brilliant, but again, I only have so much time. I chose to let this go for a while. Did I mention that I have matured and realize that I can’t actually do Everything?

I feel ready to give voice to this next phase of motherhood, however tight my time may be. My little O is no longer a baby. (That is super hard to say!) He is 3 1/2 years old. He is tall and full of personality. He has the energy of the Energizer Bunny and the mood swings of Sybil. He is funny, emotional, and all over the place. He is imperfectly perfect. I don’t want to miss chronicling this time in our lives because I am crunched for time or because I get lazy. This blog is ultimately for him. So here I am. Back in the saddle.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight. Remember, behind every great kid is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. My current life story! Lol. Thanks for reading. Xo

Happy Mother’s Day Mommy

My to do list has hit overload.  Our yard is a disaster.  I am on duty to fix every Lego demolition and Troublesome Truck mishap for the foreseeable future.  (Mothers of little boys will understand).  Yet, on this Mother’s Day weekend,  I feel compelled to take some time to express my gratitude for the greatest gift life has bestowed upon me.  Yup.  Motherhood.  A gift, you say?  Oh yes, indeed.

With all the whining, crying, puking, and so on, I still, undoubtedly, LOVE, that I get to be O’s mom.  I have said it before, but it bears repeating.  This is the best job I have ever had.  And to top it off, there is a day set on the calendar to celebrate it! To honor it!  What? It’s like winning the lottery and then someone sets out a day to bring you another boatload of cash.  I am sure there are some mommys out there thinking “Here she goes.  Jacked out on Baby Magic again! Freaking Pollyanna Mommy!”  Can’t help it though.  I’m just super happy.

I can’t help but wonder if I am happy BECAUSE I understand what a privilege it is to be a mother.  It’s like the rules of gratitude and happiness.  One really begets the other.  What’s that facebook meme I often see on my feed?  The happiest people are not the ones who have everything, but are the ones who believe they do.  Motherhood seems to be a lot like that.  I’m sure it isn’t about having a super awesome child, as we ALL do!! (Am I right?)  I find it very hard to stay stuck in the “poop” of the day, so to speak, when it is so joyous being around my little guy.  He’s hilarious.  And sweet.  And ingenious.  And so fun to be around (99% of the time).  I choose to deal with the 1% of bad and focus on the awesome rest.  Truly, none of it is actually bad.  That’s the wrong word.  A more apt word would be difficult.  But, anything worthwhile has its difficult moments.

It’s funny, but motherhood is nothing like I thought.  It is so so much better.  To be a mother is the most rewarding job, the biggest challenge and the greatest joy of my life.  It gives my life a meaning I didn’t know existed.  I thank O everyday for choosing me to be his mother.  Maybe when he is older I will bring him breakfast in bed and get him a special gift on Mother’s Day…. Oh please! I’m not THAT cracked out on Baby Magic!  I’ll let him think the day is about me.  But I’ll always think to myself how lucky I am to be his Mommy.  Always.

Happy Mother’s Day! Thanks for reading! Keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up! Xoxox


One of THOSE days

It is one of those days.  There has been a gray gloom hovering over New England this past week.  The temperature has not gone above 40 degrees and the chill in the damp air seems permanent.  I am not impressed.  Who knows if the bulb flowers will actually bloom this year?  They had started to pop up weeks ago only to be covered with a layer of icy snow that just wouldn’t melt.  And though the snow is all but gone, their fate is still unknown.  As April approaches, only days away, the bone chilling temperatures remain…accompanied by rain.  What I wouldn’t do for a patch of blue sky and a 70 degree day!

My will for indoor activities is fading and my patience is growing thin.  It’s times like these I feel like I am losing the good fight.  Poor O must feel couped up like a chicken without a barn yard or a cow without a pasture.  (We’ve been playing Farm a lot!).  He is such an outdoor boy, but I just can’t bring myself to brave the drizzle and chill.  He wants to be outside playing in the dirt.  (Well, it’s mud right now). He whines.  I want to scream.  So I call my husband at work and whine to him about my day’s plight.  It doesn’t make me feel better because I know I am being ridiculous.  Yet, it takes everything in me NOT to turn on PBS Kids and get on with MY day.

We color.  We do stickers.  We read.  We play with Legos.  We build a garage for his cars.  He empties the utensil drawer in the kitchen.  I check the clock. It only 10:02!!!! Holy Crap! There are still two more hours til lunch! How am I gonna get through this day?? I know I am not the only mother stuck in the house on a rainy frigid morning with her toddler! Why does it feel like I am?  Because that is motherhood.  We are this incredibly resourceful army of women who collectively are going through pretty much the same things, and yet we feel isolated.  Because on days like today, who the hell wants to brave the weather?  Who wants to sit on an icy bench at the playground and watch my child go down the slide while my butt cheeks freeze off?  Not this lacking Mama.  I need to curl up under a blanket with a cup of hot tea.

I always find this time of year the most challenging.  Winter seems to hang on, out staying its welcome.   By this point, were all pretty much sick of anything pumpkin.  And the romance of hibernating with all that Danish hygge has hit the annoying point.  You can only light so many candles!  The novelty of winter is gone.  Add a stir crazy toddler to that recipe and you get what I call, “One of those days.” I can only hope it doesn’t last.

So that’s where I’m at.  I basically just want to complain.  Pretty much like my son.   I want to will the warmer weather to take hold.  I want to bask in some freakin sunshine.  I want to be hot! (Who’da thought, huh?)  So Mother Nature, hear me now.  As one of the leading Mothers of this earth, you need to lend your earthly sisters a helping hand.  I can only imagine I speak for many mothers when I say, we are getting to the end of our ropes here.  Bring on the warm weather!  Inspire us to frolic outdoors with our children.  Invite us to lay on the warm grass and gaze at the cloudscape.  Implore us to plant seeds and watch them grow.  It’s time.  Thank you.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading friend! Namaste.



Hope Springs Eternal Mommy

It’s March and it’s snowing. That isn’t uncommon for New England, yet I find myself thrown by it’s sudden presence.  It was 60 degrees and sunny the other day.  Mother Nature is playing games I do not appreciate, just adding to the sense of Topsy Turvy the world is in.  I sit here watching the snowfall.  I am nursing a dreadful cold.  My feet are up and my head is buzzing from my latest dose of Sudafed.  The alternative is conjestion that rivals some of the worst I’ve known.  So Sudafed it is.  It’s Winter in Spring, the head of the EPA says carbon emissions don’t hurt the environment, and I feel like my country is shifting into reverse.  Ladies and gentlemen, the world is UPSIDE DOWN.

The truth is, I have no words for the spiral we are in at the moment.  My sense of self preservation says to focus on what is right in front of me.  My work. My family.  Doing the good I can do in the small everyday sense.  Practicing kindness, generosity, and acceptance.  Keeping an awareness of the bigger happenings, but not letting them deflate me.  But that is proving to be quite a feat.  Everyday it is some new crazy absurdity being revealed from our government or some completely unfounded insane tweet consuming my newsfeed.  It’s a level of insanity hard to dismiss.

And then, I breathe.  Simply my mind remembers the new cd I have of the Broadway Cast Recording of Dear Evan Hansen.  The music is uplifting, inspiring and all together gorgeous.  It is my new “go to” cd in the car. The lyrics are poingant, personal, yet universal, and filled with soul and human spirit.  Dare I say, the music makes me hopeful?  Yes.  I’ll say it.  Art is like that, hence why it is so important.

Then, I made a very last minute decision to attend a town hall meeting being held by our U.S. Representative to Congress, Joe Kennedy III.  Saturday afternoon and there were a million other things on my radar. I was feeling stuffy and horrible, but something inside me told me to go.  So I did. Seeing and listening to this young, smart, compassionate man talk about what he thinks our responsibilities are to each other, as citizens of this country and as human beings, was inspiring.  Uplifting.  Dare I say, it gave me hope in this “post truth” era?  Yes.  I’ll say it.  What I saw, was the future of our country before me.  In some strange way, he spoke and I felt better.  Less anxious.  Less afraid.  He answered questions with respect and empathy, but also knowledge and authority.  I honestly thought to myself, This man is going to be our President someday.  He gave me hope.

As a mother I find myself in a perpetual state of worry about the world we have brought our son into.  I worry about his education, his safety, the environment.  You name it, and I’m sure I’ve worried about it at some point.  To say I’ve been overwhelmed with the “goings on” in our country is an understatement.  But then I realized, that a moment of hope seems to beget the next moment of hope,  and the next, and so on and so on,  Suddenly, all around me, everyday, are moments of creativity, moments of profound inspiration, and moments where I am in control to be kind and generous.  Moments where even I can change someone’s life for the better.  And it fills me with hope.

True vision and hope are impervious to the bombardment of negativity and malice assaulting our society.  This malevolence has no defense against what is just and right.  Just like a lie has a way of making its way to the surface of truth while destroying its keeper in the process.   You may disagree with me, but I don’t know if I will ever live to see a woman president in the White House.  I think it is a hurdle too high to overcome at the moment.  Sexism, I fear, is ingrained in the fabric of our flag.  It is my hope, though, that my son will see it.  But what I am certain of, is that he and I will both see the honor of the office restored.  I’ll be awful proud to say I met him and that he gave me hope  when I sorely needed it, one cold Saturday in March, not so long ago.

I hope you are well, my friend.  And hopeful.  Life without hope or creativity or inspiration is a tough life.  Keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  Thanks for reading! Xo


Being Alive

Ok.  I’ve crunched through my bowl of low salt popcorn.  I drank my second 12 oz glass of water for the day.  I’ve watched a bit of spirit crushing C-span.  I’ve gone through the news and political blurbs that, lately,  hurt my brain.  And yet, here is the ironic truth…..I remain happy.  I am happy because I am grateful to be here.  Not just to exist, but to be alive.  Truly alive.

The other day I was listening to the Broadway channel on Sirius XM, as any good musical theatre geek does.  Raul Esparza’s rendition of “Being Alive” from Stephen Sondheim ‘s musical Company came on.  As I drove,  the words he sang seemed to penetrate me in a way they never had before.

Somebody hold me too close.
Somebody hurt me too deep.
Somebody sit in my chair,
And ruin my sleep,
And make me aware,
Of being alive.
Being alive.

Somebody need me too much.
Somebody know me too well.
Somebody pull me up short,
And put me through hell,
And give me support,
For being alive.
Make me alive.
Make me alive.

Somebody crowd me with love.
Somebody force me to care.
Somebody let me come through,
I’ll always be there,
As frightened as you,
To help us survive,
Being alive.
Being alive.
Being alive!

Its a song about the fundamental need we have to be needed and loved by another being.  I think when we accept that we, indeed,  have just that, life gets a whole lot brighter, even in the midst of hardships, depression and crumbling governments.  I talk a lot about gratitude and perspective. If ever there was a time for people to take control of their perspective, it is now.  My top priorities are my son and husband.  My husband is my person, like in the song.  He is my someone and my O is the natural extension of that love and connection.  They are my everything. I choose to make them my main focus. Of course there is room for other things in my orb, but I am making sure to balance my intake of the negative world and alternative facts, with that which inspires, empowers, and enriches me.  I’m reading this and I am sounding a lot like some tripping ethereal hippie.  I assure you, my walls aren’t melting and my feet are planted on the ground.

You may think I’m coo coo for Cocoa Puffs, but I truly feel I owe my wonderful life to my husband.  Had he not risked revealing his true self to me all those years ago…  Had he not been so fearless in his love for me when I was still the coward…I would not be this unabashedly happy today.   And, he made one hell of a baby with me!  I tell you, I owe everything that matters to him.  Obviously, I could go further and thank my lucky stars, or the Universe or, duh, God.  Absolutely.  And that is the whole point.  What is going on right now in our world is abominable, I’m my opinion.  It is a sad and deplorable time in our country.   But it is only a tiny piece of time in the puzzle of our existence.   It cannot take over my mind.  I am in this fight for the long haul.  What kind of warrior would I be if I just crawled under my covers binge watching Netflix in comatose denial?  I will not give up any part of my wonderful life to the threatening darkness.  I can be involved, informed, even irate and still be happy.   I will remain happy because I am choosing to be.  Because my husband and son deserve me to be.  And my vigilance and resolve to make this world a better place will only strengthen.   For me, that is what it means to be alive today.  Thank you, my love, for making me ALIVE.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up! Thanks for reading! Peace! Xo