When I was sixteen years old, a series of poor choices resulted in my getting arrested. The punishment designated by the court was 100 hours of community service, overseen by Reverend William T. Federici of First Congregational Church. Unphased and unrepentant, I showed up (late, of course) for my first day of service straight from the beach: barefoot, sand covered, and bathing suit clad. Rev. Federici said not a word about what brought me to his office, and set about drawing me a diagram detailing the direct connection between the mind and the heart. He explained something called “the heart of the perfection of wisdom,” and advised that I needed not just to open, but to empty the negative thoughts cluttering my mind. For a disaffected teenager, it was quite a concept.
Over the past decade, I have worked hard to become a good nurse. Initially quite cautious, over the years I have developed confidence in my abilities, and now pride myself on remaining calm while fielding acute crises. Clinical judgement is equal parts education, training, experience, and common sense, and virtually no one is blessed with all of these components
My youngest and most likely my LAST baby turned two this weekend. TWO! As in she’s a toddler and not even a baby anymore. That’s her above, nursing her baby doll. Monkey see, monkey do. At two years old, she’s still nursing at bedtime every night that I’m home. I told myself, and her that
Life seems to swing wildly between exuberant and hellish for me, with what I’ll refer to as “dead periods” occurring from time to time. The swings mark my transition from a flow state (in the zone, usually helping a client with something and feeling like I’m winning at the same time) to ground zero
Sometimes writing for this blog is like therapy for me. It helps me to type something out and really focus on something I’m struggling with. Do you ever just have to talk something out with someone else and then it makes total sense to you? You finally know which path to take? Yeah, that’s what
Having my son drink from a bottle is not a new thing—he gets fed both breast milk and formula from a bottle by anyone who is watching him during the day when I’m not around. However, when Lenny and I are together, I breastfeed him. As exhausting as it can get, I enjoy being the
Nothing brings the confessions out faster than being a new parent. I can’t be too shy about sharing my parenting faux pas since they’ve become my new reality anyways. There’s no hiding from them! Come wade with me through my dirty laundry pile—literally or figuratively, ‘cause I’ve got a lot of that going on too…
While I never imagined I would have nursed my daughter until she was over the age of two and a half, breastfeeding ended up being the best parenting tool in my arsenal and the one I reached for more than any other. Yep, I milked our breastfeeding relationship for all it was worth (pun intended).
[image credit] I’m embarking on some new career/business pursuits (more on those later), and they are, unsurprisingly, taking a physical and mental toll on me. While this was to be expected, I am nonetheless evaluating the situation to see if I might be able to take some steps to make my life easier right
I always knew I would share my thoughts on weaning, long before I actually planned on doing so. In my head this post would be about how hard it is not to have that closeness anymore with my daughter, and how much I miss nursing her. As it turns out, that’s not how it actually