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My son turned one at the end of August. We didn’t have the celebration we had imagined, but we did get to celebrate him and the fact that we made it through the first year. We had a small gathering, grandparents and godparents. It was lovely and exhausting.  In preparation for the party, I hung a “1st BDay” banner from our unadorned curtain rod...It’s still there. I see those gold, semi-inflated letters as a representation of all of the chores that I’ve left undone, all of the unchecked boxes on my to-do list. I also see it as the time I’ve gotten to spend with my son and on myself.  As a working mom, it is sometimes difficult to reconcile my son...
I whole-heartedly jumped in so many activities fearlessly in my childhood, teenage, and college years, even when I absolutely sucked at said activities. My mom cheered the first time I got a foul during my short basketball stint because I was actually on the court I was in the right place on the court for the first time to have a chance at even getting a foul Yet, I still proudly walked around with my status as a basketball player. I look back at my 18-year-old self and can learn a few things from her. I gave a speech called “Failure is an Option.” That girl knew that it was okay to try new things and fail. She knew failure was...
My three and five year old daughters have two favorite insults. “You Stink!” they’ll shout, when one does something the other doesn’t like. “Stink,” in this context, is a noun rather than a verb and can be interchanged with “little stink” as well. Adding “head” is reserved for more egregious actions and “poopy face” is the strongest insult of all. Our three year old knows how to push her sister’s buttons and will shout these names even when nothing has happened just to get a reaction out of big sis. Big sis’ reaction is always worth it—her face contorts into a mix of anger and horror, and you’d basically think little sis had called her a four letter word...
Lately, I've found myself volunteering to mow our yard. Shortly after having our second daughter, the pandemic hit, and the voluntary quarantine we put in place for our newborn quickly became strongly encouraged by government officials. We weren't going anywhere anytime soon. I needed to get out of the house. So, escaping for an hour to take over a productive task like mowing seemed like one of my only options. I do enjoy it, but I still find myself looking through the window when I can to check on my husband and kids. I feel selfish for needing to get out, but I'm also frustrated that I feel obligated to be productive at all times. Is this self care? Stepping outside...
I cried after I dropped my son off at daycare this morning. It isn’t his first day. It’s his fifth day. He cried, so I cried. Mom guilt hit me full force. I sat in the parking lot for a while after bringing him inside, reminding myself how important this new journey is for both of us. I’m finally able to work consistently and help my husband with the financial responsibilities of our family. As for Junior, he is getting much needed therapies and social interaction with his peers. This is good, but it doesn’t make it easy. I know it is, but it doesn’t change the fact that my chest is still tight hours later, and I can’t get...

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