A Mom's Life

Every woman has that signature piece in her wardrobe, maybe it's an LBD (Little Black Dress), a pair of red pumps, that blouse that hits her curves in just the right places, an infinity scarf, skinny jeans that show off her Beyoncé butt, or a boyfriend T that looks way better on her than it ever did on him. No matter what the piece may be, it's her go to when she wants to look amazing and confident and comfortable in her own skin. I, too, have a signature piece in my wardrobe. Now, if you don't know my style, let me break it down for you. First, I have to talk about my non-professional attire, which consists of two looks: day aka workout clothes and night aka pajamas. If I'm not working, I'm working out and when I'm done working out I'm still wearing work out clothes. And no, I don't mean that I go home and shower and put on the latest Kate Hudson brand outfit and Nike sneaks meant for coolness and not exercise. I mean, I work out in the morning and t...

Not long ago, Andy told me he wanted to run for local political office and I cringed. When we married we became a pair. A dynamic duo. Decisions that Andy makes impact me and decisions I make impact him. For better. For worse. When Andy told me he wanted to run for the position, I felt bad for him and I felt bad for myself. I crafted a quick list of reasons why Andy should not make this decision which started with considerable time away from the family and ended with being in the public eye....with me. I felt like he should know better because he knows me. Apparently not. I have vivid memories of being a kid and my mom telling me, "Don't do that! Don't say that!" Of course, most moms say something like this to their child at some point. Kids have no filter and are naturally curious. They make a little too loud observations about others, they wear funny outfits, and pick their noses in public. Somewhere along the way, kids learn that they aren't to ask a strange...

I've been thinking a lot about a recent article about #luckiestgirl which describes the use and popularity of the phrase luckiest girl on social media. The article (which can be found here: http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/09/luckygirl-hashtag-instagram/406420/) states that the hashtag, which has been used over a million times on Instagram, and has now inspired a book, represents women's need to feel "effortlessly perfect" and of course, social media is a breeding ground for misrepresentation of the truth and the projection of perfection. It seems women are unable to take credit when credit is due, or feel that demonstrating having put forth effort somehow demeans the overall accomplishment. The article concludes with a quote from actress and comedian Mindy Kaling who says that for adults, admitting that one is working hard is a "weird thing." It comes as no surprise that men use the word lucky, and hash tag it, significantly less than women...

It's that time. I am too tired and wiped out to write anything of substance but I promised myself I'd write at least every two weeks so I'll do some haikus. I promise a better blog very soon! Many ideas circulating in the cob webbed brain of mine. Bad Blood Singing Taylor Swift, So catchy, yet annoying. Time to grow up girl. Luckiest Boy Making fun of him is my favorite thing to do. Married to me. Lucky Boy. Children Kids! Go to bed now! She tells me to stop yelling then kisses my feet. The Bus Dave takes the day off. The substitute drives by us. We really miss Dave. Our Anniversary Aint got time for much. No lingerie. No dinner. Love of eleven. The Dog Otis out of crate At the door, when we get home. Forgot to lock door. Downton Abbey Downton, my candy. How do I love thee, you ask. Let me count the ways.

Andy is part introvert and part extrovert. At work he is a total extrovert and can talk to anyone at any time. And talk, and talk, and talk. At home, he is an introvert. He is rarely chatty and generally does not start chatty-type conversations with me or the girls. For example, I like to have philosophical conversations about life. I might ask Andy if he thinks we will go to heaven when we die. Andy would ask a question more like this, "What are your plans tonight? Can you watch the kids because I need to go change out a lock at one of the apartments." Our responses to one another's question prompts are equally different. Andy, in response to the heaven question would say, "I don't know." I, in response to the being home question would say, "I don't understand why you have to change out that lock. Did you not just change out a lock last week? How much is it going to cost? Can't you pay someone to do it for you? This is a big problem. I'm n...

In just a few days time, my little Charlotte heads off to the Big K. No, she's not going shopping for blue light specials at the discount retailer. She's headed to Kindergarten. Kindergarten: the best year you'll ever have, full of fun, friends, and big steps. Back in ye olden times, when I was a kid, going to Kindergarten may have been the first time a child was away from her mom or dad for the day. It may have been the first time a child was in a group with other children, eating meals not cooked by family, following rules set forth by strange adults. The first bus rides. The first backpack. The first time to put one's name in her coat and boots. The first invitations to other kids' birthday parties. The first fight on the playground. For Charlotte, and many of her peers, she has experienced all of these before she ever set foot in the Kindergarten classroom. Charlotte is a daycare kid. Only three months after her birth, she was placed into the hands of a non-f...

As a little girl I had long hair that fell to the middle of my back. My mom and I spent countless hours in a tug of war-her trying to hold me down to comb it and me trying to get away while screaming as loudly as possible about the injustice of her brutality. We struggled together for year after year and many a childhood memory includes a tangle of long, matted hair. From lice scares to mopping vomit from its ends, my hair was always there, resting over my shoulders as a part of me. I never thought much about it, it was just always there. Until middle school when I had a sleep over with a few friends. It was then that I realized the power that hair has as a part of our identity. It took only a few minutes and a pair of semi-sharp shears and I went from having those long locks that brushed over my shoulder blades to an un-even, shoulder-length bob; that changed my life forever. I went from being a nerdy middle school girl who wanted nothing more than to be a wall flower to a teenager...