As a mom, I can get caught up in the hustle and bustle of managing all of the things, and not pay attention to the really important things. I am fortunate to be coming off of two months “work-free” spent at home with my two boys. Do not get me wrong, you can be fortunate
Category: single mom
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
“Why are you still single?” “Have you tried online dating?” “You should get yourself out there; hasn’t it been long enough?” “Don’t you want someone to be with on your kid-free nights?” “Do you think you’re being too picky?” I have been asked all of these questions by well-intentioned friends but whenever I respond, I
“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.
Fall is more challenging than Summer. This is just a truth. Summer is the time for eating tomatoes from the garden with balsamic vinegar and calling it dinner. For staying up a little late and chasing fireflies in the yard. Fall is none of these things. None. Of. Them.
We certainly have had some missteps, in particular once my daughter started school in the fall. But we recover and hug it out. I made it a practice to stand my ground as a parent, but to do so as gently as possible. And to readily admit my mistakes when I made them.