My youngest is a textbook extrovert, and while parenting multiple kids is tricky, it’s especially difficult when an extrovert comes last into a family full of introverts.
Anniversaries are for both revelry and reflection, and I’ve been doing a little of each over the past week.
Almost every kid who went through my middle school remembers Mrs. Jackson’s seventh grade biome project. Each year, kids would be divided into groups and assigned a classified biological community — everyone secretly hoped for the rainforest — and had a designated section of hallway to create that space.
It sounds like overkill, but it got to be a ritual … and I told myself, “If we’re prepared, it won’t happen.” A superstition’s only crazy if it doesn’t work, right?
She left no backlogged dreams, because my grandmother, as the popular saying goes, “lived her best life.”
It may sound silly, but rearranging my home feels a little like New Year’s Day. There’s a fresh start, and the new positioning opens up new ways of moving, and those new ways of moving open up new ways of doing other small things and it can end up having a snowball effect.
Regardless of what’s behind the change of heart, I realize what I want most on my Mother’s Day is to celebrate the others in my life — these strong women that raised me and raised the people whom I love.
While friends and family have been rocked by tornado outbreaks two weeks in a row, I’ve watched our trusted meteorologist’s page from afar and been in awe of a springtime that doesn’t require recurring use of a sheltered “safe place.”
I’d have never believed that perfectionism was ‘nature’ in the whole ‘nature vs. nurture’ debate, but I watched it bloom almost overnight in each of my girls.
There’s a reason that milestones like the first days of kindergarten, of middle school, of high school take our breath away. Not only a reminder that we’re getting old … but such a stark reminder that our babies are growing up.
I’m not saying everyone needs a fancy party — especially if they don’t love that sort of thing — but everyone deserves to be celebrated.
But the question remains … Other than simple time constraints, why else is it so cumbersome to develop new friendships as we get older?
I’ve realized the majority of things that I allow to frustrate me involve people that matter very little in the movie adaptation of my life.
There are days that just suck — no other way to describe it …
Even those perfect Pinterest moms who make the rest of us look like Ms. Hannigan have “those” days …
It’s where I still love to belt out my favorite songs and for a moment be young and carefree again. In the car is where I know my daughters will talk about what’s important and what’s not-so-important. It’s where I plot out what I want to write each week.
It’s true, I’m a daughter and a wife and a mother and I delight in being such. But these labels are all dependent upon others. Who am I without my family?
So there I was Wednesday morning, Cora in the backseat belting out, “When I’m more mature, I’ll feel totally secure …” and wondering why, when it comes to adulthood, so many of us feel a sense of imposter syndrome?
Without 2020, I’m not sure we’d have taken such a risk — in fact, I’m almost certain we wouldn’t have.
With Christmas behind us, and the preposterous amount of unknowns still ahead in 2021 … if anyone out there feels like they need permission, here it is.
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