Love More, Judge Less
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
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,
The following is a guest post from Laura Stott. Laura is a wife, mom to a seven-year-old and four-year-old, and a high school history teacher on the shoreline, where she also grew up. She loves being near the beach and the woods, and having deep roots, though she wishes all of her family were closer.
I’ve been having a hard time trying to figure out how to write about the way that I’ve been feeling lately. I wanted to write a fluffy piece about all the things that I am thankful for, but it is not what my heart wants to talk about. I have been suffering lately with anxiety
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
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
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.
Looking back I wish I could have been kinder to myself. I wish I could have just said to myself that it’s okay to lay down all the time, it’s okay to take a break, and to have actually believed it. But self-care is hard for me. I think it comes down to being a perfectionist and also living in a society that so strongly values productivity and busyness.
Much of my early life was guided by what I seemingly NEEDED to do. When you can only see one path for yourself, you don’t agonize over decisions because The Most Important Decision has already been made for you. Going to college seemed right for me, so it became my only path. Proceeding next to
The variables are so variable that the plans never go as planned. So with that truth in mind, I am hoping that these short and specific goals — one week at at time — will help me improve in the ways I have been trying for.
