Happy Birthday, My Sweet Boy. Today you would turn four! I can't even wrap my brain around what that would look like. My sometimes empty arms ache to hold you and squeeze you as you prepare for a new milestone like the first day of preschool - I bet you would be wicked smart like… Continue reading You’re Four.
Finally. It’s just after dinner and I have a moment to sit down but not at the counter, or my desk, or the toy car-covered living room floor, or the dinner table, but on the couch in my living room. Work is finished, laundry is folded (well, probably - I’m at least pretending it is),… Continue reading Love with Two Hands
A wise friend shared a story with me years ago that really stuck. I'm sure you've experienced that too. For one reason or another you just relate to it and it resurfaces often. I can't take credit for this story...but I'm going to tell it like its mine. Just so we are clear...it's not. So… Continue reading Little Red Wagon
When pain and anger run so deep our human reactions are sometimes violent. Good news…we get to choose how we put those feelings into action – it doesn’t have to be violent. As a teacher, I’ve spent some time teaching kiddos how to react without the violence. How to choose wisely. As a mom, I… Continue reading Imma Fight Him
I sang a song – again.I sang a silly song today, it went a little something like this…”chicky-chicken nuggets, cheesy-cheese cubes. Peas and car-rots, peas and car-rots, yum yum yum in the tum tum tum.” Obviously, Kanye will defer to me as the “musical genius” from now until the end of time. I have mad… Continue reading I Sang A Song – Again
His 2ndBirthday.Today he would be two. My sweet boy. He should be toddling around the house, tormenting his big sisters, cuddling his baby brother. Making us laugh, because of course he would be the most hilarious toddler you’ve ever met. I can sometimes picture him. Other times the image of my son is so far… Continue reading His 2nd Birthday
He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not (written 5/24/16)Remember playing the game when you were a child? Reciting the phrase “he loves me, he loves me not” as I plucked the petals from a poor unsuspecting flower. Thinking of some silly little boy who I wanted to return my affections, and hoping, longing with each… Continue reading He loves me, He loves me not…