I don’t like politics. And I don’t like addressing politics on this blog. But as I have tried to absorb the unexpected results of the election this past week, and the fallout, I feel that I must write about what has been so absent these last few days: kindness. I cannot speak for others, just for myself…. [Read More]
Snow.
In the days leading up to last weekend’s snowstorm, I couldn’t escape the news about it. Comments about snow littered my Facebook feed and every time I turned on the TV, the storm was being discussed. Newscasters predicted an epic snowstorm with unprecedented snowfall and potential damage. With each passing day, my anxiety multiplied. I worried about uncontrollable events,… [Read More]
A Kind Thanksgiving
On the ride home from nursery school, my daughter tells me that she learned the Turkey Song for Thanksgiving. I watch her in the rearview mirror as she bops her head from side to side while singing: “The turkey is a funny bird, it’s head goes wobble, wobble. And it only has one word: gobble, gobble, gobble!”… [Read More]
Making Time
“Mommy, how was yoga?” My daughter and I are walking out of her nursery school when she asks me this question. It is a warm day for the fall and I am relieved to have her hand in mine after our morning apart. “Oh, I didn’t make it to yoga. I just went to the… [Read More]
What do you want to be when you grow up?
I started keeping a journal as soon as I learned how to write. I wrote on whatever I could find, like loose pieces of paper, pink diaries with heart-shaped locks and spiral notebooks. My wild imagination as a child resulted in the writings of my early years being full of mystical realism: half truth and… [Read More]
Adventures in Gardening
Last month, I decided that I was going to plant herbs this summer. My yard has a dirt bed that is perfect for planting and my mom gave me gardening instructions. I have never gardened before in my life and actually had to purchase tools, so this was a new adventure for me. I brought… [Read More]
unfinished…
Cheerios are everywhere – always: in my diaper bag, in my daughter’s pockets and behind the sofa. They crunch under my feet in the kitchen. My daughter picks them up from the floor and eats them. I shrug. “At least she is eating something for breakfast,” I tell myself. I find them in her toys… [Read More]