Out like a…

Mar 20, 2015 by

It’s that time of year again where I’ve started to plan my daughter’s fourth birthday party. Scratch that; I’d actually started planning it the day after her third birthday party, but that’s just semantics. Regardless, as she approaches four years old, I can’t help but feel more than ready to put three behind us. Three Years Old was quite a challenge for us all. You got to follow along through my blog posts as I documented the ups and downs from week to week. Somehow I’ve made it 10.5 months into age three without any gray hair, which I’ll take as a solid victory because let me tell you, I should probably be stark white like my grandmother right now if the Three Year Old stress showed itself in my hair color. Either that or I should be bald from tearing my hair out. Small miracles.

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These little things

Mar 6, 2015 by

My daughter was never a thumb sucker. She never really favored one stuffed toy or a blanket to carry around a lovey. A couple of the things that I perceive as classic kid moves, just didn’t catch on with my daughter.

She does, however, have her own little habits. She may not have had a lovey, but there was an entire year where she wore a tutu nearly every day. She’d pull the thing on no matter where we were headed or what we were doing. She wore it right up through the day of her preschool orientation, then more or less dropped the habit when she started school. I can now count on one hand how many times she’s worn it out in public in the last eight months, though she does request it on some days. She’s still not ready to let it go completely and it’s still in heavy rotation when she plays dress up.

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On loosening the reins

Feb 20, 2015 by

I like having a schedule. Since I’ve been home with my daughter full time I haven’t really needed to take as much care with a schedule since our days are less structured and I simply don’t have the same volume of meetings, events and obligations as I did when I was working a nine-to-five – play dates aside, of course. Still, as a planner, I like to know when to expect things, and I like regularity. Call me boring, but there it is.

What I’ve come to realize, though, over the past several weeks of trying to reshape boundaries and priorities in my life is that, to a point, I need to let go of a schedule. Usually I like to have a routine for when I can work out; I like to know when I can expect “me” time – it makes me feel successful and on top of things when I have these activities penned in. I used to think that if I didn’t schedule exercise and free time in, I’d never find the time.

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Finding yourself in others’ words

Feb 13, 2015 by

After rushing through this week I sat down, at the last minute – true to form, for this week – to write my weekly post and checked in with the blog first to see what my fellow writers had been up to.

I could have written Ann’s post this week (and, well, nearly did, before I saw it).

It feels good when you see your thoughts validated by someone else, doesn’t it? Put out there, in print. For everyone to read, yet the words speak to you so personally. Many people argue that social technology is driving us as a society apart, but I can see the many ways it serves to connect us so valuably.

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Redefining our “best”

Feb 6, 2015 by

All of these snow days sure are taking their toll. We all have cabin fever over here, and we keep having to miss out on the fun things we love. Winter can be pretty, but, man, what a drag!

I’ve been feeling the effects, too, in my schoolwork. I have to budget my time very carefully from day to day, and rely heavily on the two and a half hours my daughter is in preschool for study time. Other than that, I can only squeeze my studies in after she goes to bed, but those afternoon hours are crucial. And when she doesn’t have school, I lose those study hours.

I’m a perfectionist when it comes to my schoolwork. And for me, that means I’m not satisfied until I’m sure I’ve given it my all. I went into an exam this week feeing unprepared, my first time since returning to school. I hated the feeling; knowing I didn’t do my best, knowing I *could* have given more.

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