I haven’t checked my mail yet today, but I’m pretty sure when I get it, my Mother of the Year certificate will be there waiting. Sarcasm. See that picture? That is a wet shoe, drying in the sun.
To me, it boils down to this: strength in storytelling
I believe we all end up a little stronger when we share our stories about this hardest—and best—journey of life called motherhood. Here you’ll find my thoughts, experiences and interviews with experts to help us all muddle through these crazy beautiful days.
Thank you for the sweet giggles and the slobbery kisses. Thank you for always sharing your half-chewed food with me from your high chair. Thank you for your sassiness and your grumpiness and for always reminding your older brother that just because he’s a boy and he’s bigger than you, it doesn’t always mean he’s in charge. (A good lesson to hold onto for later in life, too, actually.)
First things first. I am an unabashedly positive person. Glass half full. Known to burst out in song. Hugging strangers. Eating chocolate after breakfast because YOLO. First one on stage at karaoke. Yada yada yada, etcetera etcetera and the like. YES, I have awful horrible bad days too, but overall you could say I’m pretty upbeat.
Sometimes the littlest moments in parenthood can just unwind you. Last night I was rocking Frankie to sleep in her dark room, sound machine locked on “gentle rain,” when the other Little Person opened the door walked into the room. “Mama,” he said, as he walked over to the rocking chair. (His little curls bounce …
The doctor’s office table was uncomfortable and my legs kept sticking when I lifted them to move around, but nothing could ruin that morning for me. I had marked the day on my calendar with a bunch of silly heart emojis and I was psyched.