One fine Freshly Pressed day
When it rains, it pours.
Sometimes terrible circumstances converge, making it hard to keep my head above water.
Other times, the rain is a downpour of a feathers and fairy dust. I’m submerged but breathing, and it all feels glorious. Yesterday was just such a day.
I got to spend time with my baby son.
I’ll return to paying work soon, but for now I am able to set the pace of daily life … with some input from my seven-month-old!
Two weeks ago I only got to spend a few waking minutes with him daily. After watching him crawl around my living room and attempt to eat everything at floor level yesterday, I was able to sit and just watch him sleep before returning to chores that have long evaded me.
My mom’s seventh grandchild was born.
My youngest sister called me a little before noon. She didn’t even need to tell me the news, for I heard the mewling of my newest nephew the moment I answered the phone.
I came to know (and love!) most my cousins later in life. My sons are growing up knowing and enjoying their cousins, who will hopefully be some of the closest friends they carry with them through their lives.
My birthday letter to my mom was Freshly Pressed.
Thanks to rockin’ blogger Twindaddy‘s Twitter vote last week, a letter I wrote my mom on our shared birthday was Freshly Pressed.
My mom was known in my hometown for her mental illness, her poverty, her brashness and her too frequent garage sales. Wherever I went, I found people all too willing to tell me the things my mom didn’t do quite right. As her mental illness took over more of her life, those same people told my siblings and me how we weren’t doing enough for our mom … as if they had any idea about the truths of our lives.
It’s an honor to have any post Freshly Pressed, but especially beautiful that this one was. What my childhood neighbors saw was only a fraction of the real, amazing woman whose strength helped shape my own.
A wider audience can now see why I love my mom so fiercely.
I introduced my sons to the privilege of voting.
Speaking of voting …
It’s hard explaining voting to a five-year-old, but much more exciting when the five-year-old gets to see voting in action.
My baby voted only for sleep, but he got a sticker anyway.
It was day 30 of my third Whole30.
I eat clean to help me manage my chemical sensitivities to things like deodorant, perfume and most cleaning agents.
Sometimes I eat cleaner than others. I do a 30-day reset when my sensitivities start going especially wild. This means eating vegetables, meat, good fat and a dash of fruit for at least 30 days. I feel great doing this, but it can be challenging to bid my beloved lemon cupcakes adieu. For a month.
It’s super sweet to know I could eat that cupcake today. I’m not going to, but I could … and that’s its very own treat!
I got to listen to The Woody Show.
OK, so technically I get to listen every weekday morning, but I cheer for these irreverent radio personalities every day. They remind me not to take things so seriously. So, to them I say thanks … and suck it!*
(They won’t take offense. Trust me.)
Now I’d like to get to know you a little!
Why do you blog? If you don’t blog, why do you read blogs?
What hope gets you out of bed every morning?
Who are you? Who do you want to be?
* A footnote for Mike the Show Killer: I know you mean well, but for the love of Pete … there’s no need to tweak perfection!