Friends, how are you? How are you in the midst of a global pandemic? How are you in the loneliness of social distancing? How are you in the time of canceled plans, seasons, games, and long-anticipated vacations? How are you in the uncertainty of…everything? How are you in the fear for your own life, or the lives of those you love? How are you?
I would like to talk specifically to those of you like me. Those of you for whom the phrase “don’t panic” rolls off your back like water on a duck. It doesn’t sink in, because panic is the water you’re swimming in. It’s your norm.
I have an anxiety disorder. It is, according to Mayo Clinic, “a mental health disorder characterized by feelings of worry, anxiety, or fear that are strong enough to …
Mommas and Poppas, Nanas and Popis, these are strange times. This morning, I was wishing I had a story to read my little guy. He’s 5 and doesn’t understand what all the fuss is about. We don’t want to overburden our children, but we can’t keep them in the dark, either. So, I just wrote something myself.
I made a little video, “Taming the Stress Monster.” Play it for your darlings, or mute the sound and read aloud. Enjoy, and please share. You are loved.
This little pansy caught my eye in the flower bed last week. An early sign of spring on a frigid February day. Bloom where you are planted, indeed. Whenever you’re freaking ready.
I could pretend that I’m writing this to lift the spirits of a dear friend who’s going through a dark season, but here’s the truth; this is for me, but not only me. Maybe it’s for you. Or your dear friend.
See, I’ve been at this writing thing for a long time. 15 years professionally (18 if you count my internships in college), and 31 years if you count my crayon-scribbled masterpieces as a young child. I’ve always, always wanted to be a writer. And now I am. Not many people can say that they’re living their childhood career dream. I can, and I’m grateful. Not many …
I don’t really do New Year resolutions. I don’t want to set myself up for failure right out of the gate. But I do set my intentions on improving some area of my life. Just shifting the needle in that general direction. For 2020, I decided to be more mindful of our plastic use. If I can afford to buy something in a glass container vs. plastic, I do. I started using bar soap instead of body wash. And I began looking into reusable shopping bags that would be easier to use.
So when an email showed up in my inbox asking me to review the Lotus Trolley Bag, I was very intrigued.Then, the same day my package arrived, my dog did this to my old shopping bags:
It was like he knew …
Last week my daughter brought home…the blue note. She’s in fifth grade, and apparently, this colored piece of paper is a symbolic rite of passage for pre-pubescent and newly-pubescent youth. I went to a Catholic grade school, and while we had a puberty talk, I don’t remember what color the permission slip was. But “THE BLUE NOTE” was a big deal.
My kids bounded through the front door (middle child, oldest, then youngest with the rage of a lion, always in that order). “Mom, LOOK what we got at school!!!” She was equal parts horrified, excited, nervous and thrilled. Honestly that’s probably how most kids feel about puberty in general.
Ahh, yes. The school puberty video. In all it’s cringe-worthy gloriousness. 🙂
I knew this was coming. I knew there would be “the talk” in fifth grade…and …
Eight years ago, I was a newly-jobless mother of two girls, ages 1 and 3. I’d left my job as the director of communications for a sizable non-profit in exchange for more time with my progeny. I envisioned delightful outings and play dates and leisurely afternoons spent reading and cuddling and baking cookies. And sometimes, that happened. But truth be told, I was miserable. I was broke. I was lost and fumbling, unsure of my purpose or value.
So darn precious. Those days were long, but the years were short. I will not cry. I will not cry.
So I started freelancing. I picked up projects here and there, but it wasn’t enough to fulfill my need to create. So many words. So many stories. I did what every red-blooded white lady who lives out in the …