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Archive for February, 2014

“I want to see your beautiful face”

My four-year-old son went to school breathing easy, but returned with a terrible cough. My husband and I usually have a ramp-up period warning us what’s to come. Not this time.

Our little one coughed his way to sleep in our bed tonight, sleeping fitfully for a couple of hours before awakening to a cough so hard he was retching.

After that subsided, I kept my hand on his belly.

“Are you leaving it there so you can feel if I throw up?” he asked. Read more…

Celebrating life: Tears, love, and one tiny suit

I braved the garage to search for the handful of items left over from my son’s baby days.

Every item he wore was special to me, but I donated most everything to avoid clutter. I saved just one small box of about one cubed foot.

Sitting cross legged on the floor in front of the navy box, I pulled out the first few items. Each brought back memories of my son when he was still so, so very new to me. I smiled and traced my fingers over each until I reached a favorite I just had to photograph.

bear suit

I continued through my sorting-and-remembering journey until I reached the bottom of a second bin full of older boys’ clothing given my husband by one of his Big Bang Theory coworkers. There, beneath all the stuff much more recently worn by my son, I found a tiny suit.

mom suit

Tears welled in my eyes as I placed the suit on my lap, closed my eyes and remembered. I remembered walking through the kids aisles at Ross in search of a suit my son would too soon wear to a one-time event: Read more…

46.5 million critical reasons to see poverty’s devastation

The bathwater was on the verge of spilling over the edge of the tub, so I leaned over and turned it off.

My son immediately threw a fit. He was only two at the time, so his fit didn’t involve his now-customary attempts to negotiate. He mostly shouted “more” a lot and flailed around to show he disapproved of my decision.

“Sweetie,” I told him, surprised by his unusually strong reaction. “There are people in this world–”

What I wanted to say was, “There are people in this world who can’t give their kids a single glass of water to drink. This problem is not so big.”

What I actually did was choke on my words and begin to cry. As my son stopped flailing and focused on his toys again, I imagined what it would be like to gaze upon his cracked lips and be unable to give him a single ounce of clean water. I thought about the reality that countless mothers around the world face this very situation daily.

The imagining felt real, and terrible, but I understood its limitations. Read more…

Thank you

Yesterday I wrote about a sudden, ultimately positive but jarring change.

This morning, sitting here perusing blogs at a coffee shop, I’m overwhelmed by words of love and support shared between bloggers here and elsewhere.

Change is afoot. As I saw yesterday, and the evening before, not everything is changing. You all will still be here writing, reading, and cheering others on. You will be tending to this lovely community, a kind not envisioned thirty years ago but no less powerful for its newness.

Thank you for reading. 

Thank you for reaching out.

Thank you for commenting, whether to question (kindly!), share your experiences, or offer support.

Thank you for being you, and for being you here–on my blog, and in the blogosphere.

I hear you, and I am grateful for you.

With your words, I feel like that's exactly what you're doing. Without lechery, naturally! ;)

I feel like this is exactly what you’re doing with your words. Without lechery, naturally! 😉

Baby pictures & love over predictability

Yesterday was stressful.

I started the morning with a plan–laid weeks ago–for the next several months. My budget was in order, and I knew how I’d be spending most of my days between now and the delivery of my second child. It was all wonderfully predictable.

predictability

Then my medical leave began much earlier and more suddenly than expected.

This might not sound like a bad thing, but remember: Me + predictability = 4EVER. Read more…

Bitch

It is not my obligation to be nice to you.

I don’t owe you anything.

Not because I’m a woman. Not because I’m in your vicinity. Not because it’s convenient to you, even if you’re a jerk to me. Not because pretty posters on Facebook tell me I ought.

Like this one, created for the purpose of this post

Like this one, created for the purpose of this post

A year or so ago, I told someone that something was hurting me. Then I told them again, and again. Read more…

Modeling self love (and honeymoon hair!)

I hated gaining weight at the beginning of this pregnancy. I’d gotten used to seeing my slimmer, small-sized-for-the-first-time-ever self in the mirror.

At some point, I decided it was a waste of my limited energy to spend much more time being dismayed by my appearance. I accepted the temporary added weight and tried enjoying this image of myself, too.

Sandra (Square One Notes) blogs to create a record for her young daughter. When I read her invitation to post a selfie in exchange for a chance to win a Starbucks gift card, I wasn’t as intrigued by the prospect of a gift card as by her rationale:

I encourage you to show yourself. I need to know it’s okay to live in a world where we like ourselves. I want my daughter to grow up with a sense of self worth and confidence so that others will hold her in the same regard. Help me show her it’s okay to be in our own corner. 

A lot of life, time and energy are spent here in the U.S. hating our bodies and faces for what they are and wishing they would be something else. It’s such a waste, when these bodies are a gift. Ellen Page touched on this briefly in a beautiful eight-minute speech that should be watched for all its affirmation of life.

So I offer this image of me, now, in celebration–not rejection–of what is:

feb 2014 selfie

That’s me, folks, crooked glasses and all. This is also me, enjoying a lazy honeymoon: Read more…

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