My cousin stopped chopping carrots and asked me, “Does your family have any special traditions during the holidays? Do you eat something special?” She was looking at me as if she really wanted an answer. She cared about what I had to say. I hadn’t met this cousin before. At the time, I was in Read More
Recently, I chaperoned my daughter’s elementary school field trip to the art museum in town. On the permission slip to the event, there was a disclaimer about nude sculptures and paintings in the museum and a warning of the possible dreadful opportunity for the fourth grade children to see such pieces of art. Then, upon Read More
Kindness might be the virtue I value most and try to instill in them. I had a million dreams of volunteering, giving back to the community, and basically being a family that thought outside of ourselves. And we are like this kind of family, some of the time; however, life keeps getting in the way.
On my daughter’s first birthday, after her party and her first taste of sugar, and after all the guests left, I sat down in the quiet of my house and wrote her a letter. Now, I have a nice stack for each of them, tied with a colorful ribbon. They don’t know they exist, and I can’t wait to give them some day.
Listen in on a heartfelt conversation with Angelle. She’s a mom of 3 children, both adopted and biological. Angelle has learned to work with the challenges familiar to most parents of children with special needs.
Unrolling my mat last night in yoga class, I noticed we had a substitute teacher. I sighed inwardly, a little disturbed that my regular teacher wasn’t there. I felt uncertain, like I didn’t know what I was getting into. Even though I have been doing yoga for twenty-five years–I even taught years ago–I still consider Read More
I didn’t want to live in Suburbia. I still stand out like a sore thumb, and the PTA ladies probably run the other way when they see me, but I have learned some big lessons. In the past year, I have finally learned that it truly doesn’t matter where you live. You can make any house a home and any neighborhood a community if you choose to do it. You don’t have to hate where you live.
We just don’t know what is happening in a stranger’s life. Because we have no idea what story someone else is living, compassion should be our first response, if possible.
COME to Simple Dinner.
Every Sunday night, 5-8, my house.
Please bring whatever is already in your kitchen:
leftovers, jars of olives, cheese, that foil wrapped experiment, etc.
No preparing food. WE MEAN IT.
I am a yeller. I come from a long family line of yellers. The yelling isn’t necessarily done out of anger; it is simply another form of communication…a loud one. After children came into my life, I could see the negative impact the yelling had on them. I wasn’t crossing the line into verbal abuse, Read More
Okay, let’s be real. A car full of kids, including one that can’t sit still for an entire movie, an adolescent boy, a hormonal teenager, and two tired parents does not make for a great road trip across the country. Perhaps, it would be a fantastic movie, one of those disaster movies that you can’t Read More
Having dinner with my aunt recently forced me to revisit my boundary issues. You know the boundaries I am talking about, the lines that should be drawn in situations you aren’t comfortable with, like say uprooting your family of five to help someone else with their vacation plans. “I need you to live in my Read More