I have a difficult confession to make.
One I am ashamed about.
But one that I think is important.
I have been on multiple sides of the bullying issue.
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I have a difficult confession to make.
One I am ashamed about.
But one that I think is important.
I have been on multiple sides of the bullying issue.
Continue reading
I don’t hate politics.
I do, however, hate politicking.
There are select moments I avoid social media (Facebook in particular) and major elections are at the top of that list, the aftermath of a catastrophic and/or polarizing event is a close second (after that is when I am on a “real’ vacation, which is not germane to the topic of this post at all so let’s just set that aside for now). Continue reading
I’ve never been a fan of round numbers. They feel too perfect, almost fake. And even though last year was a perfectly round number of a birthday, it came after a less-than-perfect year.
I’ve come to believe all things balance out if you give it enough time, nothing stays the same and I’ve come to a place where I don’t want it to. I look forward to change–not for the sake of stirring sh-t up–but to progress and become better, get to the next iteration.
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My daughter was almost two when I became pregnant with my son. She was curious and fiery, sassy and sharp, creative and snuggly, and (although I may be biased) strikingly beautiful with her fair porcelain complexion that could sprinkle with freckles in even a drop of sunlight, red curls framing her face and hazel blue eyes.
All of these things were glorious. But my very favorite thing about my daughter is her kindness and her compassion (now I’m not saying all day, everyday–she is still human–and her brother may dispute this claim, but when it happens it is truly spectacular).
When my son arrived, it was earlier than expected, almost six weeks in fact. So my then-husband and I were in a bit of a scramble the morning I went into labor. We had not planned for his arrival this early… What to do with the baby (our daughter, in this case), so I was off to the hospital solo. And as I left the apartment, I could hear her crying “mama” as I entered the elevator.
I was in the taxi with my kids yesterday, on our way to the movies. We were having a conversation about, of all things, my birthday. They both know how old I’m about to turn, 40–or as my daughter likes to say, “the big 4-0” and my son likes to remind me “that’s four decades, mom”–and they feel “it’s a big one.” So in the cab, they were debating the virtues of different celebrations, ideas and trips we should consider. This has been a rough year, as you may have previously read–and it’s hard to get up the gusto to want to celebrate in a manner that’s out of the ordinary right now. My answer was “it’s just a number, like any other…lets just do what we’ve always done.”
And then I saw a post from a friend the night before.
It’s hard to string words together.
I feel like I’m experiencing some form of creative atrophy.
Like the words can’t come to my fingertips.
Like if I simply don’t type them, perhaps it’s not real.
Ok, here’s what’s real.
I rarely engage in Facebook chain mail. You know exactly what I’m talking about: Like this or Share that; Post what color your whatever are; Tell your friends about your whosiwhatsit and tag the eighty people in your wedding party to do the same… No thanks. But recently I saw friends posting about the Gratitude Challenge.
A Gratitude Challenge? Gratitude lists? I love making gratitude lists. I love reading gratitude lists. I even do them on this blog… Holy s#%@! This is Faceplace chain-crap I could get into, even read without cynicism, sarcasm possibly even passive eye-rolling? I’m really not this sour, but I do feel like the weight of empowerment messages gets diluted when you see one every five seconds and it’s totally tainted when used or misdirected for unsavory purposes. That happens A LOT on social media.
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This is the longest spate I’ve not posted on my blog. It’s so funny, the reason I usually stop writing is not lack of ideas or things to say, but too much to say. It becomes overwhelming and I don’t know where to start. Much has happened already this year, some I have shared and some I don’t, well, know where to start… Some seems almost moot now. I sent my kids to camp: baseball, theater and technology (yes, technology). We were all pretty busy, so no vacations were planned although we did go on a few day trips: Coney Island, the Ripley’s Museum and Madame Tussaud’s.
But the crux of my summer boils down into better understanding three primary themes: Forgiveness, Authenticity and Faith.
This month both of my children will be graduating–one from elementary school and one from middle school–and entering a new phase. It’s an exciting time that comes with anticipation, reflection and even a bit of sadness.
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