Tuesday, March 13, 2012

My Blog Has Moved!

Thank you all for being loyal readers of These Are My Reasons. It is with great excitement that I announce that the blog has moved to www.thesearemyreasons.com.

While this site will remain, all new content will be posted to the new site.

If you are a follower, please remember to change the address of the blog in your blog feed.

Thanks again! I look forward to seeing you over at www.thesearemyreasons.com.

Thursday, March 8, 2012


What a busy week! I'm well on my way to recovering. When I finally got home tonight with the kiddos, it was bedtime. But one look at this house told me otherwise. I was in severe Kenmore withdrawal. So out came the sweeper, and I got down to business. Lower level straightened up and swept; kids played out; momma satisfied.

And then, after I actually did get them all to bed, I had the rare opportunity to chat with two of my best friends on Facebook. And now, the hubby's robe, my gray fleece slippers and a creamy cup of chai tea.

I was stressed two hours ago? Really? 'Cause I'm totally chill now.

Last weekend we took the big kids (that now includes Colby!) to an indoor waterpark. We traveled with family, and it was a great time! I'll let the photos tell the story...

And then I rolled right into the week. Blog excitement. (Still in the works!) Work. Mothering. Work. Dinner with a dear friend and fellow mother of four. (Yes, we staved off eight children to finally meet!) Work. And then... this.

A beautiful rendition of an awesome song by a stunning friend at a St. Jude benefit named after her daughter on the beautiful campus of my alma mater and workplace. And then this, even more beautiful, awesome and stunning than anything else...

Girlfriends in child form. Little women changing the world. Hope. Faith. Love.


Sunday, March 4, 2012

52 1/2 Months...

Luke and I, around this time last year...

Fifty-two and a half months. Yep. 

That's how long I've nursed babies, altogether. I've been selfless, enamored, annoyed, exhausted, mesmerized and content. It's been an amazing experience, to watch my babies grow on my milk alone, to see them calm down in a nanosecond, to be the one they want the most. And now it's done. I have no plans to nurse again, ever, either Luke or a new baby. I'm done. And it's bittersweet. 

I am also in physical pain. I'm about two cups sizes bigger than normal. It neither feels nor looks good. I'm thinking I might have another day or two of this, before my breasts actually become my own again. Before it will be too late to turn back, although I already know I'm down the road I will follow. I'm not wishy-washy. I make up my mind, and I follow through.

And that's why I nursed for 52 1/2 months. I promised each baby a year of nursing, and each one got it plus more. It was really hard in the beginning. Lilith and I had a traumatic birth experience, and neither of us knew the way. I called on lactation consultants often, once even in the middle of the night. I closed the books that insisted I needed to nurse on a schedule. That wasn't working. I closed my ears to those who swore formula was the answer. I listened to my heart and to strong nursing women at the local La Leche League meetings. And I didn't give up. 

Before long and every child since, I have nursed with confidence and without apology. Breasts are for feeding babies. The rest is a bonus. Nowhere in the world have breasts become the sexual objects they are in the States. In reality, they are very functional and efficient, very vital parts of women's bodies, with very specific purposes. 

And so, I nursed. I nursed at home, in stores, in church, in cars. I nursed at all hours. I nursed when I didn't want to nurse, when others were visiting or barhopping or playing volleyball. When I wasn't able to be with my babies, during work mostly, I pumped. I have pumped in offices, in restrooms, in airports... in cars, in bars and in campers. I've pumped in a "deluxe" Porta-Pot and a sympathetic stranger's tent at Jamboree in the Hills. (Don't judge.) And, thanks to Ohio University, I've even pumped, many times, in a lactation room. What a novel idea!

I've learned a ton about human milk and how to express/transport/store/freeze/use it. I've cried over spilled milk. I've had to dump milk due to spoilage and, sometimes, when I've had too much wine and spirits. I've forgotten pump parts and whole pumps and been more than an hour from home at work. In those times, I've used my email account to connect with other moms, who have been generous in loaning parts for a session, a day, and, in one case, a year. In October, I transported more than 30 ounces of breast milk on an airplane from Denver while on a business trip.

I'll admit it. I'm proud.

I'm really proud of myself and of the support network that helped me through it. I'm proud of my husband, my babies, my fellow lactating women who believe, as I do, that breast is best. 

And now, it's done. I'll mentor and encourage and advocate. I'll remember the time I put in, the nights of babies snuggled close and the safety we both felt. 

I leave this place with great hope and great reverence and great memories. And two very large, tender reminders of my days as a nursing mother warrior.

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Climbing Back Up

I have random happiness tonight. I'm not sure why it's surfacing, but we don't question brilliance now, do we? I am in awe of the weather, though I know rain is coming. I am in love with my children. I am making peace with my job. I am so blessed with amazing girlfriends, incredible relatives, a community I am proud to call home.

But wait. There's more. I played volleyball tonight, just saw the righteous season finale of "Parenthood," and I'm 2/3 through Mockingjay, book 3 of The Hunger Games trilogy. Oh man, oh man! Am I Team Peeta or Team Gale? Well, I'm Team Katniss. I want her to win.

And today I looked up the coordinates of my heart. True story. I now know the coordinates of Lake Tweet, which isn't just a place, but a living thing comprised of family, history, memories, fun. The best of times. The place I think of when I need a haven, a hope.

And I've needed that lately. These past few months have been a little trying for me. I'm still sorting through the reasons why. But my life has ebbed, my flow crippled a bit. It wasn't just work, or winter, or wanderings. It might have been all three or none of them. It just was.

I'm not going to try to explain it. But I am going to keep propelling myself forward, keeping my priorities in mind, my heart in armor when it needs to be and blazing like the sun when it doesn't.

Someday, I'm going to write a book, I think. Maybe more than one. And maybe I won't. That's hard to admit, but it's an option. I might never get my mind around it, but getting anywhere is the journey. And I'm having such a good trip.

My crowning glory in this life might be my children. They're beautiful.

And they are learning how to be aware of others, how to be grateful. How to live well. 

I took the older two and the baby to the fairgrounds to ride bikes, scooters, and strollers while Colby napped with Daddy on Sunday. At one point, Lily wanted a drink and then kept riding her bike. She was across the track from me, and we kept missing each other near the water station. I finally left the bottle on the ground and borrowed rocks from a slag pile to spell out her name where she would see it. 

I knew my girl would love this trick. What I didn't know is that she'd be smart and patient enough to return the gesture. When I came back around, I was touched to see her response. Where her name and the water bottle had been, I found this:

Raising her and her siblings up right. That is the goal, the struggle, and the reward. Most of all, it's a blessing. And I'm back up, ready to soldier on.

Monday, February 20, 2012


Surely, I have something to say. Some cute pictures to post. Some wit or fire or feat to share with you.

(How about just one cute photo of Colby and Ava's adorable new puppy, Faith?) 

A feat? Oh yes. How about this? I keep forgetting to tell anyone that Max ate an American cheese single that was sitting on the table a couple of days ago. It had been in the diaper bag with another piece for ... oh, say... a week? I was cleaning out the diaper bag when I found them, put them in a 'trash' pile and then got distracted. When I turned around, only one slice remained.

Well, he's fine. Said it tasted fine, and what was I to do?

There are other things going on around here too. Luke is a full-fledged toddler now, toddling all around with one, sometimes two, arms in the air for balance. Totally adorable. He is a happy guy with an infectious laugh. One of his tricks is to attack his big brother Colby, grab on to his shirt and hang on for the ride while both of them giggle. Good stuff!

Tonight I got to do about ten minutes of yoga with Lily before the babies tore me down. But man, it felt fabulous. A good reminder to me that I need to take care of myself. I love yoga. It loves me. We should be together.

Marriage is kicking along just fine too. Hubs surprised me by hitting Valentine's Day right on the head this year. We went on a little date last night, and we're sharing some kind of sinus ailment. The kids get bathed, the laundry and dishes get done. We work together. And we still kiss several times a day. True love. It's all good.

I am feeling a bit lighter the past four or five days. And that's a good thing too.

And it's late. The merry-go-round starts again around 5:45 a.m. (And, in truth, it never stops.) So I guess that's all for now.

Good night, loves.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Love Grows Everywhere

So I know Valentine's Day gets a bad rap. It's certainly commercialized, and I remember it not being the best in my single days. But it's kind of sweet too.

Because love grows everywhere. On so many trees and in so many different ways. It's the friend you call after you get a promotion or a pink slip. It's the person you want to hold on to when you are feeling as though you're spiraling out of control in this crazy world. It's that bowl of chicken noodle soup someone brings by when you're sick and single or away from your family or the only one in your family left in this world.

It's someone having your back, your history, your standing invitation for that Thanksgiving meal. It's showing your kids that you love them bunches and that they'll always be your Valentine. And later, when they're in high school and single (hopefully at least one year, if not always,) they'll remember that  it's okay to not have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, because that's not what Valentine's Day is all about. 

Because love grows everywhere, on so many trees..... in so many different ways. 

{Watch out, Elvis... Luke, a.k.a Bedroom Eyes, can't seem to keep his eyes open in photos.}

Thursday, February 9, 2012

This Camel's Back

I won't deny I've had trouble stringing a post together this week. I am all right, but I am in a bit of a personal struggle. There's a lot on my plate, as is usual. But I think I've reached a place where every new dilemma feels like the straw that breaks this camel's back.

Today, a couple of things pulled me from my rumination. The first is a sight I always welcome on my long walk up the hill to my office from where I park. You have to look closely to see it here....

"Don't Freak Out."

This is good advice. It's the graffiti version of one of my most simple mottos: Keep Calm and Carry On. But this works. Especially when I'm making that transition from long solo commute full of million-detail thought up the hill to office and email inbox and colleagues and work.

Another item that shook me emotionally and slapped some sense in to me was this beautiful post, this beautiful mission from my new favorite blog to follow: Momastery. Blogger Glennon has my admiration, my attention, my utter astonishment. And just now, as I surfed over there to search for the post link to add here, I found a new post from Glennon about just how successful today's mission was. And as I read and marveled, I had that wonderful sensation of every pore on my body, from my toes up, giving me chills because, yes, we all matter. Each one of us can make a difference. And I know that $10 I sent to the cause is the best $10 I've spent all week, maybe all month.

I am thankful for these things that pull me out of my silent reverie of worry, of misery, of uncertainty. Tonight, after we got the kids settled into bed, Shrek came down for his ultimate trifecta: popcorn/loveseat/TV, but I stayed upstairs to think, to clean, to shower, to regroup.

And my brain started working a little better. While I really don't think I need to be adding even the tiniest thing to my To Do list, I have decided there are some things I need to do, pronto! Here, in no certain order, are things I MUST do soon:

  • I must schedule and keep an appointment to see an old, dear girlfriend. Rector, you know who you are. I need you. 
  • I must connect with Shrek. There must be a date and heels and aftershave. Just us. Soon.
  • I must help others every chance I get. I must step out of myself and my worries. I must alleviate those of someone else. 
And that's enough for now. Because I am really looking at the kids. I am really enjoying these days of mothering. I really do know what is important. But sometimes the burden of keeping all of it running, my whole life, under duress, knocks me into mental paralysis. And the worst thing I can do is what is most natural to me: to be my own worst critic. 

So, I see you, self. You're OK. You're doing fine. Don't freak out. We'll make it.

Saturday, February 4, 2012


I feel as if I am enjoying a new lease on life tonight. I have traveled a valley of darkness in a sector of my life over the past few days, but today, I emerge. I am inspired to continue doing my best, being true to myself, being interested and interesting and believing, as always, that good will triumph over evil in every house of my being.

That said, I'm exercising my need to multitask this evening. I have no less than five tabs open on my laptop. I'm on Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest as I type. I also believed (ambitiously, note past tense) that I would have the time and fire to sort through photos on the couch beside me to find shots of Luke at every month of age from birth to one year for his baby book. It goes without saying that I have long since given up on following the complex movie Shrek is watching. It's nothing but noise and annoyance to me now, but this is how we roll.

I am but a speck of sand on this glorious planet. My problems are so small and my blessings so great. My children grow like weeds. They are becoming good little citizens of the human race, and that is so important to me.

I am feeling humbled tonight, but empowered and in flight as well. Inspiration is that hand that reaches down and says, "Yes, you, now. Let's go!"

And who, in their right mind, would say no?

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Icing on the Cake

Not sure why, but this phrase has been coming to mind a lot lately. It could be that I have cake on the mind--specifically, leftover Frances Tornes cake from Luke's birthday bash. This is available only here in my small town, and I tell all who do not have ready access to this woman's magical cake: I am so sorry. You are missing out.

It's kind of a double entendre, this phrase in my mind. If the cake is good enough, it doesn't need the icing. And, if I think of my physical self, that would mean that the many things I just don't have time for right now (plucking eyebrows, painting nails, and a couple of other things I don't care to share,) don't matter. They are the icing on the cake, yes, but this cake is fine for now.

But I think it's the other way of thinking about "icing on the cake" that tells the true story of my life right now.

It's nice that my body got an awesome workout yesterday when I joined my league volleyball team for a double-header, but the icing on the cake was the mental workout it provided.

It was so wonderful to spend the afternoon and evening with a mature, tantrum-free, well-behaved Lily at the dentist office and running errands today, but the icing on the cake was the "date" it became, the laughter and conversation we shared, the reminder that, oh yes, God gave me a daughter, and I am ever grateful.

And finally, it's so nice that I got to see my girlfriends and drink some fabulous moscato on Monday night, but the icing on the cake was seeing one of those girlfriends let down her burden to laugh and relax for three beautiful hours while all of us poured love on her sweet daughter, who has shown us all what it means to want something so bad, it hurts.

It might be enough to live your life, but the icing on the cake is gratitude, service and humility.

Godspeed, fellow humans. Don't just be good, do good.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

From the Couch

Our baby turned one yesterday. He hit a major milestone just two days before his birthday with his first wobbly, adorable steps! It is a very fun time to be mom of this little, ornery, happy boy. His personality is shining bright, and he fits right in with this group of monkeys!

We've had so much sickness going on in our house this week that I'm not surprised that it finally knocked Mommy down too. I got a toned-down version after the party last night and throughout the night and day with body aches and a sensitive, but resilient, stomach. I spent most of the day on the couch, devouring Heaven is For Real, and being climbed about like a jungle gym. It was actually a pretty good day.

I can tell you with certainty that I am blessed. I am tired and feeling quiet, but I wanted to touch base. I am looking forward to a February full of love, a little bit of snow and more craziness with this busy baby and his energetic band of siblings. Life is good.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Not the Only Ship on the Ocean

Momma and Friday's birthday boy on a better day than today!
Photo courtesy of the lovely Jennifer Duskey

I have been writing this post in my head all day, but words escape me now. I do know I've had one of those days where I've wanted to step outside of myself. I've wanted to get away from myself, my troubles. I've wanted to be somebody else.

I've never loved you, January. Never.

In the past five days, this house has seen a burst ear drum with four-day long dripping, three sore throats, a urinary tract infection and the stomach virus. On top of the endless laundry and dishes, there's a funky smell in the kitchen. I haven't found it yet. But I do admit to cleaning the fridge like a mad woman today on a crazy, sudden whim. Oh, and then I pulled the stove out all by myself to sweep up the dust bunnies in search of the offender. I've bleached the trashcan and the counter, twice. If I had it my way, I'd have enough time and energy this very second to be dissecting the mess under the sink, examining the contents of the freezer and prepping the whole kitchen for that beautiful shade of robin's-egg blue paint. But first, I must find that smell.

Alas, I'm sitting here, struggling to write. Because something has taken my mojo and left a funk instead. I'm feeling it at work, on the volleyball court, on this laptop. I've somehow allowed myself to be backed into this corner, where things seem a little more hopeless and out of my control.

But I'm turning a corner. I'm not going to take this lying down. I'm changing my mind right here and right now.

And I'm going to give a shout out to Zac Brown, who crooned to me earlier as I did the dishes for the third time today. He told me, yes me, that I'm not "the only ship out on the ocean." Furthermore, "Save your strength for things that you can change / Forgive the ones you can't / You gotta let 'em go."

I see you, January 24. And I bid you farewell!

Friday, January 20, 2012


Photo by Jennifer Duskey Photography

Oh, my reasons. You are so beautiful. You make me laugh. You make me tired. I've had a wonderful week with all of you. We've killed several boxes of tissues; we've snuggled five across; we've welcomed Daddy home from work in party fashion.

Some of you have been sick. Not telling who, but the initials are Maxwell David. Mommy hopes that yellow goo coming from your left ear will abate soon. I know it hurts, baby. You have been so strong.

My journal is so behind. My diet is on the back burner. My job is changing. And I'm holding on.

I'm holding on to Daddy and to you and to dreams. All is well on this icy January eve. All I ever have to be is what He made me.

And, right now, I'm a very tired mommy aching for her bed.

Good night, loves.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Virtual Reality

All thanks go to Jennifer Duskey of Jennifer Duskey Photography for this sweet sneak peek of our frigid outdoor photo shoot on Saturday morn. I can't wait to see more, and I promise to share! 

Life seems so real tonight. I am feeling a heaviness in my heart for others and contentment with my lot in life.

I have had some trying moments with my kids during this long weekend. They have been delirious, physical, tearful and helpful, in turns. You'd think they were getting as little sleep as I have.

I can't explain, exactly, why I think I need to blog at nearly 11 p.m. on a work night when I still have some other things to accomplish before bed tonight. I can tell you that I've been thinking, a lot, about the time I put in online.  My weakness trinity includes Facebook, Blogger and Pinterest. I saw a "pin" yesterday that said "Thank you, Pinterest, for making me feel creative when I've really just been sitting on my couch on the computer for three hours." Isn't that sad? Sad, but true!

As a blogger, every time you turn around (online, a virtual turnaround), there's something else to do. It's all, "Be a part of my circle; join this giveaway and get extra entries for tweeting, reposting, commenting on this post; check out this blog." There's so much to do.

And I'm not saying it's meaningless. But some of it is. And yet, I want to do more. I want to be that connected. I like these people. I do feel creative. But, at the same time, I'm not doing the fitness part of my diet (at all!) I'm not talking face-to-face as much as I could be. I'm not writing in my journal, which, for me, is where it all began: this need to connect, chronicle and confer.

So, tonight, I'm pledging a little less time on Pinterest and a little more time making the sweet banner I have in mind for Luke's first birthday party in a couple weeks, which will also be my niece Brooklyn's third birthday party. I'm going to look less at my friends' Facebook profiles and more at my friends actual faces. And I'm going to keep blogging, when I can, and not feel guilty when I can't.

I need my own experiences, my own creativity, my friendships and my family every bit as much as I think I need up to three hours online everyday. In fact, I need them more.

So, there you have it. I'm leaving you for the sweet smell of my hubby's deodorant after his shower; the softness of Luke's hair, which is growing in like crazy; the preparation of a work morning, which is rushing to greet me.

See ya later.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

"Mink" Farewell

Where have all the binkies gone? Please don't tell Colby, but they're hiding in a bowl on the kitchen counter.

It's amazing how many we have accumulated over the years. Because Luke is not a fan, this is goodbye--one of our first true finales of the baby days. I'm not sad at all that Colby will now advance in his speech and that he won't wake up looking for his binky and not go to sleep until someone retrieves it from under his crib. I am sad that he is both sad and mad about the loss of his precious "mink." It's been five days, and he is still asking for it, but not nearly as much as he was. I think we're going to make it!

I had no intention of not blogging for nearly a week. There were several nights I wanted to write, but it's always too late. Usually 11 p.m. Mornings come way too soon. This week was typical in that I had many trying moments, others that melted my heart and not enough time to truly finish any one thing.

On Monday, Lily woke me up in time for me to make her lunch and push her out to the bus. She only packs her lunch once a week, and she always gets a note. I like to imagine her happy little face as she finds it each time.

Colby had a particularly hard time without the binky that morning. There were tears. I didn't discover it until I parked an hour away at work, but I forgot one of the five bags that needed to get to the van at home on the kitchen counter. Luckily, I did hit my marks in getting four of four children where they needed to be.

That forgotten bag included a very healthy, perishable lunch and--oh yes, again--pump parts, bottles in particular. So I was inventive. And it worked.

There were a lot of spills this week. Today, coffee with hazelnut creamer was my perfume. I inadvertently treated the kitchen floor to Luke's hot, steamy oatmeal with honey. Yesterday, Colby may or may not have dumped fresh iced tea on the counter (in, around and under the Keurig, Mr. Coffee Iced Tea Maker and canisters).

I tell ya. This life.

But I've made it to this golden moment: Thursday eve with the work week over and my sights firmly set on the weekend. The snow has arrived, and I am ready to hunker down in my house and read a book. Oh, the kids, you say? What will I do with them? Hmm. They can build forts out of the cushions all day. When they hurt each other every two minutes, I'll soothe the boo-boo and yell at the offender. That should buy me two more paragraphs or so.

So blessings abound. They tuck themselves right in there with the conflicts, the cleaning sessions and the timeouts. They manifest in the golden moments when Lily and Max are happily playing school; in Colby's true helpfulness with laundry load transfers; and Luke's sweet open-mouthed, wet kisses.

And so it is.

Friday, January 6, 2012

This One

This picture-this one right here-is my reward of the day. I had seven kids in my care. Seven delightful, adorable, worthwhile, amazing kids in my care.

I did not worry about money. I did not worry my sweet little head about my career. I tried not to yell too much. I didn't wish to be somewhere else or with other people.

I woke to a call from my harried sister. I changed about ten diapers. I made meals for many. I snuggled, I mothered. I pushed swings. I reveled in the near 60-degree sunny day that was January 6th. I soothed. I got mud on my jeans. I gave three babies a bath at the same time. I thought about my childhood and thanked God for helping to shape these. I made cookies.

I kissed my husband and visited long and hard with my sister. I tucked four little ones into their beds and shared prayers. ("Please make Ava super super super better so she can play.")

It was a good day.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

Winter Cozy

I am pleased to report that, five days into January, I have read two books. Amazing! I am an avid reader, but I try to forget that about myself most of the time. Reading is an addictive hobby. I am sucked into whole other worlds, and it becomes hard to manage my own reality.

As is usual, the baby has not been sleeping well, and I was up too many times last night. During my brief stretches of sleep, I dreamed of the circus world in the book I just finished. And so, when Max came to me around 2-something with some need or another, I dreamed he came to me with a vivid mustard scarf, apparently a prop in his circus act. Torn between all the conflicting images flashing about my mind and the urge to keep Max quiet as to not wake the sleeping baby, I simply could not focus on the poor kid and what he was saying. Shrek finally woke up to Max's frustration and, thank God, helped him out, which allowed me that rare opportunity to roll over and find sleep again.

So I have spent several nights this week snug on the couch, reading, with a string of hot drinks at the ready. Coffee, hot tea, hot cocoa... I love you all.

I am so thankful to have this warm house, these reading eyes, the furnace billowing in the belly of this drafty, old house. I'm turning ideas in my head, as I quietly drink up cozy winter activities.

I'm going to try to refrain from starting another book for a couple of days. Sometimes our realities need our full attention, and I'm going to continue to hash out the ways in which I can and will better my own.

I am, like most every year at this time, amazed at the free time I'm starting to see in the sunlight-filtered cracks of my life. What? The baby doesn't need to nurse every two hours? I don't need to squeeze in Christmas prep? I'm not completely slammed at work? Oh.

And so, January, I see you. Believe me, change is on my mind, but I am sensible and calm in its execution. Reminded by the photo above, would it be too much to ask to get a little snow?

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Feed That Fire

I don't know about all of you, but this New Year's has me feeling a little anxious. I'm not sure how best to explain it.

It started last night with the promise of my first day back to work in twelve days. I checked Facebook just long enough to get an eyeful of ambitious resolutions from friends near and far. As I tackled a mountain of dirty dishes (by hand, mind you.. always, by hand), I felt the tension rising within me. I worried about rejoining my normally crazy life, my weight, my fitness, my finances. I felt a keen sense of self responsibility. "If I can't make more money, I'm going to be standing here in this very kitchen washing my dishes by hand for the rest of my life."

And today? Well, today, I feel I should be so lucky...

The anxiety has turned tides. I still feel something out there I can't quite explain. But I feel more grounded. I feel inspired somehow by women who have attained great success at their trades. I am listening to Adele and reading Sara Gruen right now. They both have me spellbound. My favorite show, Parenthood, starts back up tonight, and this time next week, I'll have played my first winter league volleyball game.

I had this idea that I'd be published in my early thirties. I'm 33 now. I'm not sure I knew I'd have four kids and a job keeping me busy, but I know now. And it's all good. I toe that line of being my own worst critic a lot of the time. And I'm going to stop.

I'm going to keep doing what I'm doing: raising fairly well-behaved, balanced, happy children; loving my very own wonderful husband; keeping my house homey and safe; working a job that keeps me current and engaged; writing, scrapbooking, blogging; gaining knowledge in all ways; and aging well. I still believe I am a child of God, and I believe, as Max Ehrmann waxed so many years ago, "the universe is unfolding as it should."

I'm feeding that fire in so many ways. I'm happy and healthy and blessed. And that is enough for today.


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