When Parenting Feels Like Purgatory.

Disclaimer: Make no mistake this is not a blog making claims that I have experienced the real deal purgatory. No near death experiences in my realm of influence to report from, just general common knowledge on the subject which leads me to believe that it is like parenting. I always knew I wanted to be…

Time’s only frozen in memory.

About ten years ago, this time of year, I braved the many solo miles in my little Dodge Neon, from PA to Vermont. It was winter in every sense of the word and I was terrified. Ever since my Dad’s Oldsmobile slid into a guardrail when school failed to delay the expected arrival time, I have been leery of…

Hiatus.

While I am not much of a TV buff, I always resented the hiatus. It isn’t so much the fact that I am missing out on the guilty pleasure of zoning out on the couch that upsets me, or even the fact that the amount of money these shows generate, for all involved, makes me feel like they should…

#7. Focused Intention/Mindfulness/Put the Blinders On.

This is something I aim for, being aware, focused, capable of thinking through a situation before making a decision. It has always been a struggle, my busy mind, fleeting dreams, ever-changing goals. Staying the course is a flag on Mount Everest type goal. Being the lover of glitter that I am, there are a lot of shiny objects that steal my attention and therefore make focusing a challenge.

#16. Saying yes.

I like to think that I am open to new experiences, new places, new people and situations but, sometimes, the newness is hindering. Sometimes there is a nagging inner voice that hangs over the reality of attaining the confidence to enjoy all the new. It likes to show these opportunities not as blessings, but as snakes crossing an otherwise floral lined cobblestone terrace. A hinderance. An eyesore in the work of daydreams. Sometimes I do nothing, because it is easier than trying that new thing and it not working out. I.e., me not being good enough. That sultry snake is fear and she can be quite the home wrecker, can’t she.

Pop the Bubbly!

Living a life of truth as your mission is hard. It means that sometimes things are uncomfortable. It means that there is no longer sugar-coating to use as a buffer for the bitter pills. Given the choice, I would pick an Advil to down everyday over the extreme horse pills I take for my joints. Ever…

The 35 List.

Today I turn 35 and the month of December, as mentioned before, is not my favorite, but this year for an additional set of reasons. December felt like a long plank I was walking. A plank what would eventually drop me into the icy waters of January. The problem? I have no idea what I am diving into, the clear blue sea of vision I have had for years is a murky black abyss, with creatures underneath that I have no names for, no idea if I can touch the bottom.

Falling hard.

I never wanted to be THAT Mom. The one who was sitting in the stands, auditorium or in this case, on the chairs right outside of the gym mats, feeling all the feels. I imagined feeling maybe two emotions, pride and joy, while my child was out there doing their thing. Turns out it is a lot more complicated than that. I never wanted to be the Mom who wanted it more for my kiddos then they did for themselves. Never wanted to feel anger at judges or referees because I have always believed I would be the Mom who knew it was all only a game, a meet, a recital and in the scheme of life it would be over and done with and we could go home and carry on, business as usual.

Merry Christmas, Mom Style.

So here we are, December. My kids are sitting at the kitchen breakfast bar discussing their Santa lists. We don’t go crazy here for Christmas, at least not in the way of presents. We have a motto, taken from a friend years ago, and it goes like this. Baby Jesus got three gifts and you ain’t no better than Jesus, (the slang makes it) and so the kids have always gotten three gifts and their stockings on Christmas morning. No more, no less. They know not to ask for more than three things. This makes the Santa list project extremely difficult because they have to be sure, extra decisive, in choosing what makes the cut for said list.

Now, since I haven’t had a Christmas list since becoming a mom, over 11 years ago, I started thinking about what those three items would have been during the course of mothering. So I decided to cash in on my 33 items this year, with a little compilation of my own.

Ready, Set, Go…

Hello, December.

Last night I had thought about this and frantically torn open boxes, marked books, that have yet to be unpacked, until I finally came upon it. I set it out next to the coffee pot, hoping the combination would bring new energy come morning. The opening passage was enough to soften my heart regarding the month looming before us. “Big and glossy and loud and fast — that’s how this bent-up world turns, But God, when He comes–He shows up in this fetal ball… And the heart that makes time and space for Him to come will be a glorious place. A place of sheer, radiant defiance in the face of a world careening mad and stressed.”