Love More, Judge Less
Growing up with an Italian mother meant family, tradition and food. Lots of food. Sundays were a perfect combination of all three. Every Sunday we would go to church, and after we would drive the 2.2 miles to my grandparents’ house for supper. Homemade pasta, sauce and meatballs were always served first, followed by chicken
Last night, I did what thousands of parents do every night on their way home from work: I stopped at the grocery store to pick up dinner. Although I try and plan out our dinners and shop on the weekends (as I detest trying to figure out what to make every night) I found myself
I was happy. And loved my life. I truly “HAD IT ALL”.
And I was exhausted. All the time. I was not taking care of myself. I was the mom who cut fruit into beautiful shapes for her children’s lunch complete with a note, then ate whatever I could find and had time to grab on the way out the door.
I find new ways to embarrass my daughters every single day. Sometimes with little or no effort. (Most times I don’t even know what I have done.) If you don’t have a teenager, you probably have no idea what I am talking about. If you are new to the teen scene, hold on tight and put on your seat belt, because the ride is about to get a little bumpy.
Isn’t that what mothers do? We juggle. ALL THE TIME.
We are used to it. It becomes second nature to raise our children and work – whether in the home or out – we somehow figure it out. We may not do it all right, all the time, but we do get it done.
Most of the time.
Until the day when we find ourselves in front of a vending machine in tears. Then we do what we do. We dry our tears, pick ourselves up, and walk into Starbucks to purchase a latte, instead.
The tassels transformed me I think… they made me feel like someone else, someone who doesn’t plan every waking minute (or dinners for the week), someone who doesn’t stay up ironing clothes the night before school and work, or the person who organizes PTO breakfasts. And definitely not someone who wears safe and conservative pearls. Every. Single. Day.
t’s enough to juggle work, sick children and every day normal life stuff, add Christmas and it’s a whole other layer of stress. From shopping and baking and buying gifts for family and friends, truffles for office party, wrapping, and not to mention keeping said kids from getting us sick, it’s a wonder moms don’t hide under covers this time of the year. How do we keep it all together for our family?
She is learning a new way of life and packed her little red suitcase and pink satin pillow and joined our crazy life in West Hartford for a night and a day.
As I think about the things we have not done yet this summer or things we have started but not finished (like redoing the girls’ bedrooms or figuring out what to do with the crocked path on the side of our house)… the end of summer blues set in, and I realize I have two weeks to left to finish my summer bucket list. Not happening.
It may seem like a small thing. Jumping into a crowded pool. But to me is was huge. All of me exposed. Cellulite and all. For everyone to see. Including the one person there who mattered: my daughter. She was the one that mattered. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize this.
