Anyone who knows me knows that I’m a private person. You won’t catch me posting photos of my family on Instagram, I keep my birthday to myself, and I would never upload sappy messages to my husband on Facebook. Not that there’s anything wrong with this kind of sharing; it’s just not my style. In
Just rest assured that you are being quietly commended by every other mom you encounter who recognizes that although you’re far from home, you’re still doing the same exact job, just a little closer to the ocean.
There will be close calls and brushes with fate, but only experience can make a teen driver a great driver, so you employ your yoga breaths and keep on going.
Sure, we’ve cooked and cleaned, but have you ever really thought about how much else happens in your kitchen?
I don’t want a party, gifts, or even a gluten-free cake. I want to do the giving, because what I’ll receive in return I’ll keep forever. And I’m bringing my kids along for the ride.
Sure, I have occasional melt downs, but I consider those to be teachable moments. They need to know that I’m not superhuman.
I realized at that moment that instead of waiting to unload my grief, I had to own it. And just as I would forever hold my dad’s spirit in my heart, I’d hold the pain of losing him, too.
Some of us don’t have the luxury of being able to take a break, some don’t feel worthy of a break, some may have forgotten how to take a break, and some just don’t make the effort. But one thing’s for sure – we all deserve it, and we all need it.
Call me crazy, but when my living space is cluttered, so is my mind. I just don’t function as well or think as clearly. It all makes me feel unorganized and unprepared…even anxious. So, doing some quick math here, I’ve been a complete wreck for close to 16 years.
Now don’t get me wrong – I didn’t start out completely oblivious to the cut-throat nature of big business. It happens everywhere, but when it happens to you in a place where you truly feel like you can make a difference, it feels so much worse.