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The choices we face...

It is happening more often than not these days when I get in a mood where I feel helpless and paralyzed. Frozen and not knowing what to do to move forward. I seem to have forgotten the one thing I’ve always been able to do when nothing else feels right: And that is to write. Writing has always been my coping mechanism. The only way I can get out of my head the cyclone of thoughts circling around. And once I have been able to express what is overwhelming me and keeping me down, I usually feel instant relief. That is what I am hoping to accomplish today. Not that there was ever a time when being a parent was easy, but parents with school-aged children are being faced with an extremely difficult decision right now. We have to make a choice. An extremely important and difficult choice. And in my district (and likely others), we are being given ONE WEEK to weigh all the options and decide what to do. Do we send our kids to school and expose them (and our family) to the risks of contr
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Finding calm in the chaos of life

With the new year, Pat and committed to attending church more regularly. Our reasoning was our kids. We were both raised attending church and participating in Sunday School and we wanted that for our kids. We wanted them to have the same opportunity to build a strong faith foundation. Obviously, taking our kids to Sunday School more regularly meant that we would also be attending church more regularly too. But attending church and being fully present are two different things. I had a choice to make: I could spend the hour daydreaming, making to-do lists, and not paying attention, or I could commit to using that hour to be fully present. If you know me, you know which choice I made. I committed to being full present. Putting my Apple Watch and iPhone in Do Not Disturb mode and focusing on the songs, scriptures, messages, and sermons. Since January 1, we have attended church almost every Sunday. And so far, I have left each service feeling like the message was something I needed to hear.
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Our sweet Mrs. R

Dear, Rose. When I count my blessings, you are high on the list. When we moved into our house 10 ½ years ago, we were very excited. We loved our new house, the big yard, and the nice neighborhood. What we didn’t know yet, was that having you as our neighbor was the most valuable part of our new property. It has felt like we had another set of parents next door. I called you for cooking advice and when I needed ingredients (even if I didn’t yet know the difference between salted and unsalted butter). You loaned me your favorite cooking appliances and helped me learn how to use them. Every time I tried to give them back to you, you told me to hold on to them. You were there for me for some of my hardest days as a parent and have given me six years worth of great parenting wisdom and advice. When I was stressed about how I would get home in time to get Graham off the kindergarten bus, you agreed to be a backup for me. I am so thankful for all that you have done for me, but it is w
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The privilege of getting old

I have never prayed for someone to die before but today that is exactly what I am doing. I am praying for my grandma to die. It will make me terribly sad when she does, but  I am praying that God will take her from this life to the next. That her mind would again be sharp and in tact. That she would be reunited with those she loved and has been separated from.   I visited her today and sobbed alone in my car after. I wish I could say I was strong enough to hold back my tears until I got to my car, but I wasnt.  I cried right in front of her while she stared back at me. I asked her if she knew why I was crying. She didn't answer. She actually didn't talk at all during my entire two-hour visit.  Even though she didn't say anything while I was crying, we were looking into each other's eyes and I felt like she understood. I felt like she knew I was sad to see her life come to this. And I felt like she was sad too. As I looked around the cafeteria, in be
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A letter to my first born child

Dear son, I can't stop thinking about the fact that in just a few days, your little sister, my baby, will be the exact same age you were when she was born. And the more I think about the transition we all went through two years ago, the more I realize I owe you an apology. You see, now that your sister is the same age you were when she was born, I realize I am treating her differently than I treated you at this age. For example, I stll pick her up and carry her around like a baby. I am calm and patient with her when she doesn't listen or when she throws a tantrum, reminding myself that she is "only two" after all. I did the same for you. Until the day she was born. And then something changed. It wasn't meditated or intentional but I instantly started treating you differently. When I went into the hospital to have your little sister, you were still a little baby in my mind, only two years old. But when I came home from the hospital with your little sister
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The s#*t you argue about when you have kids

I vaguely remember what life was like before kids. I think I used to be fun, though. And I think I had a lot of energy. But it's so blurry. Anyway, I am quite confident that before we became parents, my husband and I used to have a lot of thought-provoking conversations that didn't revolve around poop. Yes, I am pretty sure that before we had kids, poop was not the #1 topic of conversation in our house. But from the moment we became parents, we talk about poop as casually as we talk about the weather. What it looks like, what it smells like, etc. Before kids, I was definitely aware that Pat pooped quite frequently and that he spent a lot of time in the bathroom.  I always knew that when he disappeared for long periods of time, he was "taking care of business," as he likes to call it. After he got a smartphone, I think his time spent in the bathroom probably doubled.  Before we had kids, though, I didn't care. I definitely didn't underst
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