Life is Made Up of Simple Moments

By

Today, I played in the leaves like I was a kid. I had so many plans for today, but in the end, the only thing I can account for of a day spent is the leaves in my hair.

Life is not made up of how many loads of laundry you finish or how many baskets you put away. Life is made up in the moments of the impromptu joy of leaves being thrown high into the sky.

Life is not made up of how clean your floors are but instead, it’s made up of muddy muck boots from wading in the stream.

Life is not made of up perfect and gourmet meals, but instead of a crockpot meal of meat and potatoes shared at the last minute with friends.

Life is not made up of perfectly manicured lawns but instead of the day’s worth of chopping wood and raking leaves.

Life is not made up of plans and schedules and routines, but instead of the unexpected life of doing whatever comes to mind on a random Sunday.

I abandoned my schedule today and threw away the to-do list. I played like a kid with my kids and I must tell you that I really feel like this is the way we should live. What joy there is in letting go and enjoying life as it is where we are.

Thanks for Mothering the Divide with me, as we all try harder to remember that life is made up of the small things. What joy remains in the small things, free for the taking.

 

Continue Reading

Eat the Ice Cream Anyway

By

“Are you sure you don’t want anything for yourself?”

“The order stops after the baby cone?”

“No ice cream for you?”

I was left behind to pay for our ice cream order tonight as my children ran to see a golden retriever and my husband hurried after them since I was the one who had cash in my pocket.  As I paid, these were the questions from the puzzled cashier and even after I paid, she asked me one more time.

She seemed genuinely shocked that I hadn’t ordered ice cream for myself and instead, carted away two hot fudge sundaes in waffle bowls for my husband and son and an ice cream cone with patriotic sprinkles of red, white, and blue for my daughter. Continue Reading

We Are More Than the Number

By

Friends, we are more than the number on the scale

I have made the vow to do my best to silence my inner critic in an effort to help my daughter’s never to surface. But it’s hard and today, I failed and the inner citric came out in full force.

A friend and I were talking today about a possible clothing partnership with Mothering the Divide (exciting!) and I said something about the fact that I haven’t bought new clothes in a while because I want to lose some weight left over from my pregnancy with my daughter.

And you know what?  She put me right back on track and reminded me that I am more than the number on the scale.  Oh, how lucky am I to hear those words when I need to.  And I wondered if you needed to hear them, too?Continue Reading

Leaving the Mask at the Door

By

This afternoon, I walked through the bathroom door, left ajar, and a teenager was putting on make-up.  I quickly backed up, apologized, and turned to go and wait my turn on the wooden bench in the foyer of my school.  As I turned, she said with a smile, “oh, it’s okay.  I was just putting my face on.”

Her turn of words stayed with me for the rest of the afternoon.   She only meant that she was putting her make-up on, but I couldn’t help but to think of it as a metaphor. How many times do we put on various faces because we’re expected to or because we’re afraid of what people might think of the one, true us?  Each morning before we leave, we might leave as the Beatles sing in “Eleanor Rigby,” “wearing the face that [we] keep in a jar by the door. Who is it for?”   Listen, who is it for?Continue Reading