It’s funny. You can think you are doing just fine, and then you get a phone call that knocks you sideways. But I am getting ahead of my story. My mother has been at her present nursing home for just shy of two years. Every three months, there is what is known as a care
Highs and lows, right? 2018 was chock full of them. The highs were inspiring, impressive and left me beaming with pride, particularly watching those kids challenging themselves way beyond their comfort zones, again and again. But those lows. They knocked the wind right out of me, sent me spiraling and spinning. I have found that
When my daughter was 7 months old, the teacher in her infant room said to me one night at pickup, “Wow, she sure is stubborn!” I remember being astounded. She was 7 months old. What did that even mean? Five years later, we attended a conference with my daughter’s kindergarten teacher. After talking about her
By the time my mother was my age, she was a bit of a homebody. She would decline most out-of-state invitations, explaining that since she worked for herself, there was no money earned when she was away. While true, my mother liked being in her own space, doing her own thing, on her timetable. I
Oh September, I was not sad to see you go. You were a doozy! Silly me, anticipating a smooth return to routine. Instead, I found myself without childcare (True story: The Y after school program can fill up if you procrastinate too long.) There were multiple back to school nights and sports 6+ days per week.
Exercise. I am not a natural at it. I have never felt confident in my abilities. Short girl, large chest – not a winning combo.
It may not be the summer I imagined, but it sure seems to be just what they needed.
Last year, I wrote about 10 years of marriage and 10 years of decline. Recently, we hit another 10 year milestone: 10 years of being a mom. We talked about it as he was getting ready for bed. I explained that he was taking his sweet time coming out. Nine days past his due date,
For a long time, I had been eyeing this recipe. It spoke to me. Basically, it describes a method for making vegetable broth out of the parts of vegetables which you would ordinarily throw out. Stash all the discards in a bag in the freezer, and, once it is full, turn it into broth, like magic.
People will ask me if she knows who I am. The truth is, I don’t know. I do not ask, because, what is the point? I do not believe that she knows that I am her daughter. But regardless of who she thinks I am, she is always happy to see me. It fills me up, to know that just my presence can make her smile.