A Sappy "Farewell"

My dad often accuses me of being too sappy in my blog posts.

Don't get me wrong; he's probably my biggest fan.

But he says, "Why do all of your posts seem to end with little tidbits that could make you misty?"

I like to write about things that make me sentimental, because if I'm being sentimental, then I've probably learned a lesson.

I've probably been forced to reflect on something that happened, in a way that I've changed, how much I've grown.

That's a lot more pensive than I think most people are.

In my yoga classes, I generally say something to the effect of, "If you're just aware of where your mind is wandering, or what parts of your body are tight and sore, or what your breath feels like, that's more than most people ever do. Even if you don't do anything with that knowledge, you are aware."

I like to be aware.

I'm a few days from thirty-three. Last year, I sent out thirty-two love notes to people in my life I felt needed to hear their value. Or maybe an apology. Or maybe just a memorable moment that would make them smile.

I recently took the Myers-Briggs personality type test and although I had had a few glasses of wine, and I have no recollection of my letters, I remember reading my summary of being a people-pleaser and putting others' happiness before mine and thinking "Bingo."

And really, I think I've always been this way.

I remember an incident in second grade where our class was too loud and we made the music teacher mad. And so our second grade teacher made us write notes of apology to the music teacher.

I can pretty much guarantee that I was not being any kind of loud, but in my note I said, "I would give my whole life away to tell you how sorry I am."

My teacher scoffed and said, "This seems rather dramatic," and dismissed me.

(We can save her ridiculous dismissal for another post.)

Well duh, it was dramatic, but I wanted to make sure that music teacher knew how sorry I was. She needed to know I was going to do what it took to make her happy.

There are some people who might argue, "If you are spending so much time making other people happy, how can you possibly be happy yourself?"

Valid.

But I am.

I'm not happy all the time. I'm human and have terrible days and right now I can't breathe out of my nose and I didn't sleep well and my nose is red and owie, and I just finished two hours of junior high lunch duty.

So I'm not comfortable. It hasn't been great.

But I'm happy. Content.

Bumps in the road never darken the whole journey.

I've found myself doing mindless activities lately and being suddenly overwhelmed with extreme gratitude for the people that I have in my life; and this gratitude is the deepest and warmest love--for friends and family, colleagues, and students who have come and gone over the years.

It's a feeling of gratitude for being loved and being able to love in return.

One of my students recently said that feeling loved is like a warm sweater and a hot cup of tea on a cold day.

Yes. That. All of that. So much that.

This is probably my last post here for awhile, as I begin this new blog project adventure, and so I wanted to offer this:

I am not always present. My light is sometimes dull. And my happiness can be clouded.

But when you practice these things--good, positive things--you attract them into your life.

Like begets like.

I offer up so much gratitude for the opportunity to share my words with you in this format; for allowing me to reflect and grow in such a public fashion; for letting our paths cross; for loving and being loved.

My heart is full.

Stay in the moment. Smile. Shine.

(Now go get your kleenex, Dad.)

the honest mom project

This weekend was bad.

Really really awful terrible bad.

It was one of Will's worst weekends--regressing to the terrible threes it seemed.

And although we road tripped north to spend some time with friends (and commiserate over children's behavior over glasses of wine and gourmet home cooked food), and we totally hyped up the sleepover we were having on social media, the truth is...

...our kids were terrible.

I blame Halloween, and the candy, and the lack of sleep, and the sugar crashes that followed each eaten lollipop.

I blame Halloween so much that I threw all of my kids' candy away. Two buckets worth are now resting peacefully in our trash can.

It was, in fact, so bad, that on Saturday, Will cried more than he didn't in his waking hours. There were "My tummy hurts" followed with "I want more candy" which led to "You guys are meanies" and sobs, and hysteria, and kicking, and spitting, and throwing things like socks, and shoes, and books. Even his Peter Pan costume sword was brandished as though he were going to attack me.

At lunch, he crumpled up a piece of pizza as though it were a piece of paper and threw it angrily across the kitchen.

Seriously. Insanity.

On the bright side, as I type this, we are both sipping some apple cider (his watered down, mine spiked with rum...wait, maybe it should be the other way around...wait, I kid, mine is not spiked with rum. It's three in the afternoon on a Sunday...I went with brandy, something stronger) after spending the better part of the last hour engaging in a full-on leaf war.

I even took a rock to the head.

I snapped some pretty fantastic photos of him in a rare joyous moment of the last 48 hours, and I wanted to 'gram them in all of their happiness.

               

Only it'd be a lie, right? A total lie of what this weekend was really like.

For this very reason, on January 1, 2014, I'm rolling out the honest mom project.

It isn't enough to want to see change; sometimes you have to actually be that change.

I have assembled a fantastic team of writers--and even better, down-to-earth, humble, brutally honest parents.

This team, we have lofty goals. We've been brainstorming, and meeting, and having conversations, and it has all led to this one very simple, but very special project.

To be honest. To stop the mom wars. To stop competing--with each other and through our kids. To laugh and cry and give each other virtual high fives and hugs and "I've been there, too"s and to start to build a community where we celebrate and embrace and support one another in this incredible and wild and crazy journey that isn't just about our kids but about us.

I can't wait for you to see what this holds, and for you to be a part of it.

So much more to come!!!

For now, we need you.

Yes, you.

Share this project with your friends--moms, dads, parents-to-be, grandparents, anyone who takes care of kids!

Email us at honestmomproject@gmail.com. And tell those you share it with to email us, too.

Introduce yourself to us. Say hello. Tell us what you want to see, need to hear. Maybe you want to be a part of this project? Let us know that, too.

As we introduce ourselves to the world on January 1, we will be pulling from the emails we receive and making a few parents verrrrrry very happy. :o)

Can't wait to meet you.