“Am I on the schedule today?” I text the two men who own the housekeeping business I’ve used for the last 2 years. “Yup,” one texts back. “Excellent! The girls have a half day so EVERYONE will be around,” I respond. I am also watching our neighbors daughter until she’s done with work. 3 girls,… Continue reading Lucky.
Category: Interpreting Grief
PTSD
It’s all fine. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Until one of the girls is sick and has to stay home and I’m running through mental “should I take her to the doctor or will this just bowl over?” It’s all fine. Everything is fine. I’m fine. Until my back screams in pain when I wake… Continue reading PTSD
Valentines
“What did you an Bob do for Valentine’s Day?” my friend asked as we sat on opposite sides of her couch facing each other. I shook my head. “Not a lot… we would make dinner- correction, he would make dinner, and he’d always find me purple tulips.” I smiled. I never knew how he found… Continue reading Valentines
My Voice
I am a mom of children who were small and are constantly growing and pushing the boundaries of what I want to control. I am a widow of a man who died of cancer before we were old. I was a wife who always doubted her ability to be a "good wife" because I would… Continue reading My Voice
Rant space Safe space
I’ve been editing. I’ve been coming over essays and creating content and not posting anything. It has to be perfect. It has to be understandable. It has to be relatable. It’s exhausting. I love it. But I need to keep up this space too, my space to let loose and barely edit and let my… Continue reading Rant space Safe space
Crisis in Identity- Guilt
If I could start over, I would have had that 2nd cup of coffee at 2 p.m. when I went to pick up the dog from puppy daycare. If I could be guaranteed a caffeine boost at 4 p.m. when the kids came home then maybe, just maybe, I'd have the energy to make dinner.… Continue reading Crisis in Identity- Guilt
Dirt and Hair
"Dig deeper." "I want to know more." "Tell me more about that." "Dig deeper." I try to dig but then I get tired and pull myself back out- haven't I dug enough? Aren't the pages and pages of dirt good enough? I can do better, my insides challenge. Keep digging. My coworker used to say… Continue reading Dirt and Hair
Home isn’t a house
Ask a military kid where they're "from" and they'll tell you where they were born. Even now, in my thirties I can't really say I'm "from" Buffalo, although I think of it that way. I'll say I graduated high school in Buffalo, which is as close as I'll get. My parents moved away from Buffalo… Continue reading Home isn’t a house
Based on “Warning” by Jenny Joseph
How do I feel closer to 40 than I felt last year, how does a year make such a difference? When did I get old? I am forever older than Bob, my husband that was born months before me. I am still on the younger side of my friends. Mom turns 60 (spoilers, sorry mom)… Continue reading Based on “Warning” by Jenny Joseph
The memory of being happy
Charlotte was forced into quiet time (and reminded several times) tonight before bed. The puppy is content to chew on a new bone and Orion is napping, do your own thing and leave them be. She chose to look at her baby album. I have always loved photo albums. I would look at the ones… Continue reading The memory of being happy
Solo Mom of Tiny & Loud Dragons 