Goal setting…

Goal setting…

I’ve written before about my compulsion practice of setting goals, breaking them into actionable steps and methodically moving forward to reach each one. As the school year approaches, I find myself looking at the newest planners, thinking about shiny new notebooks, and dreaming about new goals. In my world, late August is the beginning of a new season. Continue reading “Goal setting…”

Grandma’s china…

Grandma’s china…

As these things go, my grandma’s china came to me. My mom packed it up in boxes and shipped it across the country a long time ago. The first Christmas after it arrived, I carefully cleaned it and set the table for holiday dinner. Later, I told my mom how special it was to use the china, but couldn’t get over how small the plates were. We chuckled about how serving sizes have changed over time. Continue reading “Grandma’s china…”

Summer art…

Summer art…

Every summer, I want to be an artist. As a child, I remember gathering my coloring books and arranging my crayons on a beach towel under the willow tree. The warm breeze rattled the long branches as I lay on my back looking through the branches to the blue breaking through. As a teen, I brought a sketchbook to the beach and imagined myself capturing the weight of the sun, the sparkle of the water, the soft roll of the dunes. As a young mom, I longed to capture the folds of baby knees, the curve of a chin, and the movement of children climbing, exploring, and discovering the world in our backyard. Continue reading “Summer art…”

Family ties…

Family ties…

Last weekend my family gathered for a wedding. The Facebook pictures showed beaming faces, dancing, and some rowdy behavior (Kindra!). I hate that I couldn’t make it, but I love that they gather. I love knowing that cousins who are now three and four generations removed from the original siblings are still connected and connecting. I know my grandpa and his siblings would be proud. Continue reading “Family ties…”

All the words…

All the words…

The summer I graduated from college (at forty), I spent weeks hiding from my kids on the screened in back porch. I gathered armfuls of books from the library, and spent my days sipping iced tea, and gulping down books. I read as though my life depended on it. When I finished a book, I laid on the sofa and watched puffy white clouds float by. And then… I started another. Continue reading “All the words…”

What do you see?

What do you see?

I get lost. I get lost a lot! To Brian’s continual frustration, road trips for the football team often resulted in at least a couple moments of disorientation. I get lost in my own town, in the next town over, and it gets really hairy when I leave my familiar roaming grounds. When we travelled across the country one summer, he was terrified that I would get lost and he’d never see his father again. To help assure him that I could manage the trek, I printed out a state by state map colored in highlighter orange so he could help me keep track of our travels. On a day trip to the mall with my grandmother, I found myself lost in Western Mass. I am not sure it reassured her to hear me declare, “Yes, we’re lost, but don’t worry! I’ve been lost here before and it turned out okay.” Continue reading “What do you see?”

Full stop…

Full stop…

When my kids were little, my life revolved around a second hand beige mini-van. My kids lived in that van as though it were their second home. It was filled with pieces of our lives. Footballs, extra shoes (the one’s Allie was missing), books, CDs, and army men were littered across the seats and floor. Trips to McDonalds left paper cups disintegrating in the cupholders, chicken nuggets hiding under the seat, and fries littered like confetti across the seats. Continue reading “Full stop…”

Aftermath…

Aftermath…

When my doctor walked into the room she wrapped me in a hug and said, “So much has happened since I last saw you.” I was undone. She offered me tissues as I wiped the makeup from under my chin, and tried to croak out words to reassure her that I am really fine, just fine. Thirty minutes later, she made several referrals and instructed me to call if I had any further questions. She hugged me again as I left. Continue reading “Aftermath…”

Down the road…

Down the road…

My mom may have held a grudge. I don’t think she ever really got over the fact that I moved Allie away from the circle of her everyday life. We built the nursery together, waited for an extra month as my delivery date passed, and drove together to the hospital on the day she was born. Everyone else went to dinner, but mom stayed behind, not wanting to miss being there when the baby was born. She answered my questions, provided much needed (but not always wanted) advice, and was generally there to support me as I took my first steps as a mom. When we left, she was heartbroken. Continue reading “Down the road…”