Love More, Judge Less
I met Bob the summer that Violet was born. By this time, we had lived in our house for 6 years and I had walked past Bob’s house – a remarkable, purple-pink cape rimmed by a sea of day lilies – countless times on my way to our neighborhood park. But we didn’t meet until
Last summer was my big 4-0. I went on a grand hiking adventure in Scotland complete with summiting Ben Nevis, the tallest peak in Great Britain. This summer, I have decided for various reasons (namely money and exhaustion) that I was going to stick closer to home and scale everything back. I have a new
I am reaching the stage of parenting where I have to really show my kid the “ropes.” At almost 6, she is starting to do a lot of “big kid” things. Like tying her shoes, reading, and riding a bike. And, unlike crawling, walking, and other more instinctual human activities, most of these things are
I was recently at a party and was talking with a new mom friend, Julia. I told her about my job as an attorney, my summer hiking plans, my DIY bathroom remodel, and my favorite bread recipe. My close friend, Athena, who was also at the table, piped up, “And she’s a published poet too.”
I’m really sad lately. I went through a break up just before Thanksgiving. It was my first serious relationship after my divorce and I really thought he was my proverbial “second chance.” As weeks and then months passed, I realized that he was not the right fit. Even though I know it was the right
I decided to make some holiday magic this past weekend. My daughter and I got a tree. We put up some lights. Listened to Christmas tunes. Danced a bit. But I have to admit, I’ve been having a tough time lately. I’ve been thinking about my family holiday traditions when I was a kid. And
My perfectionist streak means that I often try to be everything to everyone. I am Super Mom. The one who always volunteers to bring snacks for soccer practice. And bakes her own bread, muffins, and pie every weekend. And makes applesauce from scratch. From apples that she picked herself. And tomato sauce from the tomatoes
“What’s wrong baby?”
“Mama, I need to poop.”
My first thought was literally, “Oh crap.”
After our hike, we ate a great meal and took a pint at a rustic hiking lodge with a clear view of our mountain. I could not help but think to myself: This is the kind of person that I want to be for my daughter. This powerful, determined, caring, supportive woman. We were changed and it was good.
“You are only free when you realize you belong no place — you belong every place — no place at all.” Maya Angelou
