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

Nothing But The Truth

It’s that time of year again.  Award season for the film industry.  I’ve been feverishly watching the SAG nominated films, so I can send in my ballot on time.  Yesterday, I watched a film I had actually never heard of before.  (Now, I do live under a rock, so that’s probably not too surprising.) The film is called Captain Fantastic.  Have you heard of it?  I thought it was wonderful.  It has got me thinking about how we choose to raise our children,  and, if and when, we should shield them from life’s truths.  When your child asks you a question, do you tell them the truth? Do you sugar coat things? Do you completely avoid certain things?  Or do you tell them the honest truth regardless of their age and how tough the answer might be?  The father in this film, played by Vigo Mortinsen, tells his children the unfiltered truth.  He also raises them in the woods, teaches them survival skills, and “home” schools them without the use (or need) of today’s technology.  You might be starting to get the picture.  Hippie parents raising their tribe of 6 children, living off the land, yada yada.  All of that is inconsequential.  The thing that interested me the most was the way he handled the truth with his kids.

I often think back to times of tragedy as being instances that must have been tough for parents to offer explanations their children .  The death of a family member.  The terrorist attacks on 9/11. The Sandy Hook school shootings.    I didn’t have my son then, but I remember my brother’s kids being old enough to know about Sandy Hook.  I remember my brother and sister in law talking to them about it, though I don’t recall the specifics of how they did it.  I also know of other parents who completely shielded their kids from the whole event.  I suppose everyone knows their children well enough to know what they can or cannot handle and what it is, as a parent, they want them to be exposed to.  I have often thought about it during these crazy times in America.  O is still too young to understand any of this yet, but it won’t be that long before he starts asking questions about our world…..and well, about everything.

I can’t say for sure (as how can you know until you are in that moment) but I think I’d like to be completely truthful with O.  I tell him so much already.  Things that I am sure people think he is far too young to absorb.  I constantly define words and concepts.  Does he “get” any of it? Probably not, but he does often surprise me with things that have sunk in, unbeknownst to me.  I think about the capacity his brain has to make connections right now.  I figure I should give him as much information as I can.  As he gets older, I’d rather topics not be taboo for us.  I don’t want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed to ever ask something.  I want him to know that if he asks us a question he will hear the truth from us.  If he is looking for an explanation, I’d rather we be in on the conclusion he draws from the facts presented to him.  I don’t want to teach him what to think.  I want to teach him how to think.  Does that make sense?

I also know some parents who don’t want their children to experience difficult things.  Like being around an elderly sick grandparent.  I’ve heard “it’s too upsetting for the children.”  Or failing at something.   Or losing.  But isn’t that all part of life?  The learning is not in the failing…it’s in the getting back up and trying again.  Do people still teach their kids that?  I don’t really remember learning that as a child, but as an actor, it’s a paramount point to understand.  You learn quickly as an actor that there is no shame in trying and failing…only in not trying at all.  I’m not sure that is a common theme in today’s youth twitter feed.

Let me say, I don’t believe a child should be treated as an equal to an adult.  They need guidance and structure.  But I do think a child should be respected as a thinking being.  I think it is important to respect their intellect and their emotional life enough to be straight with them.  I mean, life is wonderful.  But it’s also tough.  Why would we want to shield O from any part of the journey? Eventually, he will be on his own.  Won’t he be better prepared for the world if he has some knowledge of it and the truth on his side?

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.

 

The Safe Decision

It’s early. The house is quiet, except for the sounds of the pipes attempting to heat this big house on such a frigid day. The snow is falling so peacefully. So beautifully. My hair is wet from my post workout shower but my coffee is warm and comforting. This is my second favorite time of day. Any time I get to rock my O, either before or after he sleeps, takes the cake. But this time is also sacred to me. It is unshared. It is the time of day when I decide what kind of day I will have. When I let myself just “be.” When important things are decided in my mind.

When the eight o’ clock hour strikes, the peacefulness ends. It is filled with “to dos” and tears. Giggles, whines, Sesame Street and subtle stresses. Life with a toddler. I know, I know, if you have a toddler you are thinking to yourself, “Eight O’Clock?!” Ok, so I am lucky in that regard. Absolutely. I know this. I am getting off track. Digression is becoming quite a sport for me, lately.

In my moments of quiet and soul searching, I have come to a tough conclusion. After much back and forth with myself I am choosing to side with my intellect. I guess I should come out and tell you. I am officially deciding to not get pregnant again. I know I have talked about it seeming to not be in the cards for us, but now I am taking the possibility off the table. I am going back on the pill. It makes me a little sad. I’m not gonna lie. But the possibility of being pregnant now at 46, and delivering at 47, terrifies me. We have weighed the pros and cons. After some odd health issues, that I can now chalk up to peri-menopause, we are choosing to be grateful for the wonderful gift we have already been given. The hardest part is knowing that on some level (at least in my eyes) I am letting my husband down. He protests that I am not, but I can’t help but feel that if he married someone younger, he would have more children. He will be upset with me for writing this. It is something I need to come to terms with.

It is what it is. One of my favorite mantras. But, it is. Considering I tweaked my back just from standing at the sink doing dishes while talking on the phone, it seems like our decision is for the best. I know I am not in the shape now that I was when I got pregnant for O. A pregnancy, even if successful, would be much harder on my body this time around. And of course, my psychic friend, Frieda’s premonition enters my mind. She said I would have one child and he would be healthy. If I wanted more I should adopt. She’s been on point with everything. EVERYTHING. How could she not enter my mind?

With the stress factors in my life right now, as well, I know intellectually that it is the right decision. The smart decision. The safe decision.

I sat here stumped as how to end this pondering, and then my own words, reiterated by my loving husband as a matter of fact, hit my ears. “Everything works out the way it should.” Oh, yes, indeed it does. Marrying the right person certainly helps, too. I have a feeling we are going to be just fine.

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. Xo

Merry Christmas Mommy

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I stepped away from my writing for a while.  To be more accurate, I stepped away from trying to make sense of my thoughts.  My aging mother is ill and my beautiful 2 year old son is thriving.  It only makes sense (in my senseless reality) that it be Christmas time.  The time of year that proves to be, both the most wonderful time of the year for some,  and the hardest for so many others.  For me, this year, it seems I am in between; stuck somewhere in the middle of joy and pain.

I have decorated the house.  I have wrapped almost every gift in coordinating paper, ribbons and tags. I have fresh evergreens in every available vase.  I even made a traditional German cookie house like I used to make with my Mother each Christmas.  Our tree is a true sight of beauty, filled with memories for both me and my husband.  We are like kids ourselves picking gifts for Santa to bring little O.  We teach him Jingle Bells and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer and delight in his toddler versions.  Seeing Christmas through his little eyes is the closest thing to magic and it is wonderful.

In another part of my mind, there are lists of things that need to be done for my mother’s care.  There is worry about her safety and that of my father’s,  as well.  There is guilt that I live four hours away.  There is a sadness I have never known.  I miss her so much.  There is also a fear of what is yet to come. Will I be strong enough?  Will I come out the other side intact?  Will the hole that is growing in my heart ever mend?

How can I exist in this dichotomy of circumstances and feelings?  I have often thought about how having my son so late in the game means O having grandparents who are much older.  They aren’t who they were 10 years ago, let alone 20 years ago when most women my age were having children.  I am so grateful that he knows them and has a relationship with them, but I don’t know he will remember them as I know them.  By the time he is able to, it is possible my mother won’t even know him.  I suppose it is pointless to obsess or worry about scenarios I have no control over.  But the sadness in it stays with me.

Perhaps it is true that God only gives you what you can handle.  Maybe he knew, in his Divine providence, that I would need the joyful focus of raising a child to keep me sane while my mother slowly slips away.  I don’t know.  But it makes a lot of sense to me.  Funny, right about now, the only thing that truly makes sense other than my little nucleus family, is God.  Who’d a thunk?  I guess it all began with a child, so of course, it makes sense a child could get me through the tough stuff.  With that I say Merry Christmas, my friends.  I wish you much joy this season,  and always.

Remember, behind every great kid,  is a mother who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.  She might also be depending on the magic of Christmas more than you know.  Thanks for reading. Xo

 

 

Wanted Rose Colored Glasses

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I have always loved the holidays.  I am the type of girl who starts listening to Christmas music right after Halloween.  I love decorating, baking cookies, wrapping gifts and making all sorts of homemade delights.  This year, though, I am slow to start.  I am finding it hard to get in the spirit.   Real life seems harsher this year for many reasons. The woman who taught me about Christmas, my Mother, is sick.  She is in a rehabilitation facility in need of 24/7 assistance.   Wrapping my head around this painfully slow loss would be enough.  But let’s add the notion of spouting “Peace on Earth” and “Love and Joy” feeling somewhat fake this year, knowing that racism and hate is very much alive and evidently empowered in our beloved country.   This post-truth era bullshit we are experiencing makes all the songs and tidings of goodwill seem phony.  So phony it’s sad.  Even the Carpenter’s Christmas Album feels weird this year.

There is an anger and sadness inside of me I don’t quite know what to do with.  I feel incredible loss.  I  feel this odd, out of body loss one experiences as an aging parent slowly slips away.   It is the strangest feeling to miss your mother while she is right in front of you.  It’s excruciating, really.  I also feel the loss of the sense of good I thought the world inherently possessed.  It’s as if I have woken up in an alternate universe.  And now it’s time to play Christmas carols and get on with things….and it just feels false.  I don’t want to sing the Hallelujah Chorus while white supremists are appointed to top White House positions.  I want to scream, “Stop!”

I’m sorry for my rant of negativity.  I’m sorry I’m political.  I’m sorry that I give a shit.   I have been trying so hard to find the positives.  I am desperate to find them.  I need to find them, if not for my own good, for the good of my family, who needs me to see the good.  It is my thing to see the good.  There is a pair of rose colored glasses in our home with my name all over them.  They are just broken in about five different places right now.  There is no doubt, my role in the play “Our Life,” is that of Pollyanna.  I’m failing miserably.

One of my biggest fears is that I will not be able to sweep this state of mind away with peppermint lattes and wishes for Santa.  My mother is wrapped in almost every memory I have of Christmas.  Her exquisite detail of preserving the magic of Santa for all of us…the way she made each of us feel special..the time she took enjoying the season herself.  I remember coming home from school close to Christmas Day, walking into the house filled with the aroma of holiday baking and the sounds of Johnny Mathis on the record player.   I remember waking up each Christmas morning and it was as if elves had sprinkled christmas magic all over the house.  She was gifted in magic.

I know I should celebrate those memories.  And I suppose I will.  It’s just right now there is a sadness attached to the sweetness.  Like the last bite of the most delicious cake that can never be baked again.  I guess I just need more time.  Until next time, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she screwing it up.  Thanks for reading.  Xo

 

Mommy Is Sorry

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I’m sickened. Bereft. Disappointed. Angry at the outcome. My mind is swimming with retorts and outright scary scenarios of what is to come. I want to tell my child that I am sorry. I tried, in my little way, to make the world better.  I voted.  I donated.  I wrote and talked about it to anyone who’d listen….but it was not enough.  I feel we have failed.  Racism is real and alive in our country. Sexism is solid. Equality is being despicably threatened and ignorance and bullying are being celebrated. What do you say to your child?

Tears are streaming down my face as I write this. The sadness about where we are, as a people, has knocked me over. Do we tell our children that love doesn’t win? Do we tell them the way to win is to bully and lie your way across the finish line? This is not the world I wanted for my son. My solace right now is that, at 2 years old, he is blissfully unaware of this hate that has been so emboldened.

I cannot listen to social media or news shows…my god, I don’t even want to look at a newspaper. I need a break from the circus. The irresponsible coverage of this event has helped it’s outcome. I want to take my family and hide away somewhere in our little cocoon. I want to wake up and believe it is all a bad dream. I need to step away and make a certain peace with this so that it doesn’t continue to take over my life. So that I can continue to parent and raise our child with compassion and knowledge, instead of the hate and ignorance that surrounds us.

Is the outcome of this political election really having such a profound affect on my being?  I have some other serious stuff happening in my life, so maybe that is why I am feeling so gutted? Or is it that I’ve realized, literally overnight, that kindness and love is in the minority, and the ugliness of what humans can be is gaining momentum.  I’ve always been a person who tries to see the good. I always find a way to be happy. I figure it out. Maybe I just need some time. But faith in my fellow country men and women has been knocked out of me. I feel like a lost child who doesn’t recognize her surroundings and can’t find her mother. I will not choose hate. I’m not made that way. But my silver lining is obstructed right now. I’ll have to let you know when I find it. Until then…I’m sorry O. You deserve so much better from the world we brought you into. Mommy is so so sorry.

Until next time, be brave. Give kindness generously. And love like our lives depend on it. I wish more of us understood that they do.

Lonely Mommy Long Winter

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This Mommy business is a lonely one.  While I am basking in the joy of it all, I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I feel lonely quite a bit of the time.  I have a hunch that I’m not the only mommy out there who feels this way, at times.  Let’s face it, my constant companion is a two year old who doesn’t speak in full sentences yet and who has mood swings that rival the best of schizophrenics . I keep hearing that motherhood is so rewarding.  But I am guessing the big reward is a type of delayed gratification.   Like after all this hard work, one day I’ll look up at my son while he accepts the Nobel Peace prize and know it was all worth it.  Right?  But for now, staying home raising a child, while full of great moments, can be exhausting, and most definitely, lonely.

I find myself alone in my thoughts for a great part of the day.  For me, that isn’t always good.  I tend to over think things.  It makes my husband crazy.  Sorry, lover.  But, it is hard to avoid.  I often find, if something is important to me, it is hard to just let it go.  I take far too much to heart and listen to far too much CNN radio.   The icing on that cake of disaster, is that I am incredibly sensitive with a two year old for company.

I find most other moms out and around where we live, pretty much keep to themselves.  At the play area in the mall the other day, I sat across from another mother.  I could tell her son was at least a year or more older than O.  She looked stylish, involved, (but not hovering), and a bit older (like me).  I thought to myself, I wonder if I could be friends with her?  The children played and we knowingly nodded to each other here and there.  At one point I commented on how I loved her son’s hair.  A head full of curls.  He was a gorgeous child.  She politely said “thanks.”  But that was the extent of our interaction.  We each moved onto our own day  each with our own child in tow.  It’s weird.  Yet, I suppose it would be weirder to approach someone you don’t  even know, in a mall,  and say, “let’s be friends!”  Yeah, that is most definitely weirder.

The truth is, I guess I am a bit of a loner.  It isn’t necessarily always by choice.  It reminds me of high school at times….when you walked into the cafeteria and didn’t see your friends.  You would feel awkward or uncomfortable until you spotted your group.  You might give off an I don’t care air,  just to self preserve.  Maybe I give off a stand-offish  vibe off to other moms?   Ironic, the self admitted loner saying she gets lonely.  Ha.  But it’s true.  It is absurd that I worry that O doesn’t like big groups.  Neither does Mommy (or Daddy for that matter!) I swear, does our child stand a chance?

I look up at the skylight in our family room.  It is covered with frost on this frigid November morning.  Winter is fast approaching.  It’s gonna be a long lonely one unless I jump out of my comfort zone.  I need to commit to putting aside my mild discomfort with new people.  I need to venture into the unknown of new friendships.  I suppose I find that most of the moms I encounter are much younger than me.  But, in truth,  age has little to do with commonalities shared among moms.  I’m looking for excuses to stay stuck.

No, it is time to put on my big girl layers of cuddle duds and flannel.  I have had wonderful friendships in my life, that still exist, though almost all are now at a long distance.  It’s time for some more day to day friends.  My life is here in New England now where the winters are cold and often long.  What I know of friendship is that it is necessary and most definitely warms your heart.

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.  Yup.  Pretty much every day.  xo

 

Touchstones To Get You Through The Election Season

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Fall is one of my favorite times of the year.  It is a season that generously boasts such bold beauty.  In New England, it is truly spectacular.  If you are like me, you might be having a hard time seeing all the positives through this ugly election season that is truly putting a damper on my autumnal affection.  I decided some touchstones were in order.  Enough of all the negativity. I voted early. It’s up to the Gods now.  Moving on!  It’s time to let in all the sunshine and make LOVE my priority.   I implore you to make your own list of things that bring you joy during this season.  The act of writing them down brought joy to my heart.  It is good to remember what brings us to life.  Everyone’s list, of course, is different, because we are all wonderfully deliciously different.  And that is a glorious thing.  Here are some of mine.

 

Autumn Afternoons

The sound of leaves falling outside

The smell of a fire burning in a fireplace

Hot cider

Mums in bloom

Pumpkins

Homemade apple sauce

The colors of autumn leaves

Trick or Treat

Lighting candles around the house

Baking in the oven

Stews and soups

Butternut Squash

Pumpkin Spice Scones at Starbucks

Hikes in the woods

Sweaters and fleeces

The sweet smell of my son’s hair after playing outside

My son’s joyful laugh while he tosses leaves in the air

Cabernet by the fire

Dozing in my husband’s arms

Ollie sandwiches (that’s a 3 person hug with Ollie in the middle)

Celebrating gratitude

The brisk night air

Starry autumn nights

 

Sending you much love and light this season.  It’s time for a bit of peace, love and understanding.  From what I hear, Kindness is making a huge comeback.  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.  #rosecoloredglasses #polyannawannabe

 

 

 

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