Category: happiness

The view from above

  Several months ago, our eleven-year-old suddenly morphed from a little kid into a tweenager.  This (literal and figurative) development thrilled Lili and terrified us.  Shortly thereafter, we discovered that my clothes and shoes fit her, another milestone which delighted her but struck fear into my heart.  Lil now calls everyone “bruh” and does a

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Tuning out

When I was growing up (for the record, I cannot believe I’m old enough to begin a sentence with those words!!), we didn’t have cell phones.  Not, like, kids didn’t have them.  Nobody had them, as they had not yet been invented.  The best chance of tracking down doctors, or spouses kept on short leashes,

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A letter to my son on his 5th birthday

Dear Timo, Every year on your birthday, I look at photos of you, and I marvel… and cry.  Somehow, in the blink of an eye, you have gone from a 5 pound newborn to a 5 year-old boy.  Beautiful at birth, delicate and serene, we fawned over your exquisite bone structure… which was quickly obscured

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Dinner Wars

I have been doing this mom thing for almost eight years now, and yet up until very recently, I struggled with dinner time. And when I say “struggle” I’m talking about every aspect…   …from what I make (and kids don’t eat).   … to the time of day (the kids are never hungry at

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The people who you meet in dog rescue

The road to dog rescue is paved with the 3 Bs: Bugs, Barf, and Bites, and I’ve had my share of them all.  Date night with Karen is less likely to involve a romantic dinner and more likely to involve detonating flea bombs in my car to eliminate party favors left by a recent transport. 

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I’ll Go With You Always

Yesterday, my seven year old said to me, “I want to play Legos upstairs.” I glanced up from my phone, and said, “ok, go ahead.” He replied, “No. With you.” WITH YOU. Both of my kids say this all the time.  If they go upstairs, out in the backyard, or even to the bathroom, they want me

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Looking a gift horse in the mouth

  I first discovered the magic of horses at five years old, and, as the saying goes, we were off and running. By age seven, I (literally) landed my first pony-related concussion and sutures.  Undaunted, I climbed back into the saddle the moment a doctor gave the OK.  My parents were initially in some form

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Self Care, Extreme Self Care

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

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