Three times a year we ask ourselves this highly charged question and wait, expectantly, for a resounding response from the Universe. New Years, birthdays and tax season. . . and the last two take place in the same spring month of April for me. Even if you don’t have an Aries birthday, you may agree,…
Without wishing to sound anything but grateful, today is literally the first day off I’ve had in a month, and I’m beside myself with glee. That reminds me, I have so many unwatched hours on my DVR I’m depressed thinking about how I’m going to find the time to catch up. I can’t remember the…
For all of my new readers, people that are joining me here and have been following my new series on Working Mother Magazine - welcome. I wish that this could be a longer, more profoundly detailed blog, but considering that I can’t see straight, every bone in my body is aching and I’m dreaming of my…
What are supposed to be normal experiences for a child aren’t absorbed or expressed in any predictable, cogent, peaceful way by my son. I pray one day this will all change, and the direction on the dizzying pendulum will move us to a place of peace, joy and laughter. Until then, someone please stop the ride. I want to get off.
In my last posting, A Mother Cries…, I shared that I have begun a medication protocol for both of my children. I am still not 100% at peace with this decision. But once you begin down the rabbit hole, there is no choice but to keep tunneling forward. At times the journey seems overwhelmingly dark…
When it comes to our children, moms don’t need a reason to cry. We cry when our babies take their first step, perform in their first play, break a bone, learn to ride a bike, lose their championship and graduate from pre-school, elementary school, high school, college . . . The highs, and in this…
It’s been a most extroardinary day, one I won’t soon forget. The power of social media is humbling and in this case, for a great cause. Just under two hours from now thousands of people will join their voices in a call for prayer to lend support and energy to singer/songwriter Debbie Friedman. It all…
It’s morning. Early. I feel it coming. Don’t want to go there. 30 seconds after my alarm kick starts my meditation CD, I’m interrupted by the tell-tale “Maaaaa-maaaa” bellowing from the hallway. The quiet moment is lost, the CD just jammed in the player and after tending to the just erupted mini-world war, somehow…