I don't know where she gets it from, though I know it's not me. My daughter has fallen in love with the piano. Her grandfather plays (he's kind of famous- ever hear of the Rising Storm?), I used to sing,... Continue Reading →
Recently, because I'm one of those people that pretty much reads every email I'm sent, I noticed our neighbors just up the hill were offering a barter for firewood- you can have the same amount you stack for them. Now, we've lived in out house since 2010 and I still haven't met these neighbors. They're literally at the top of the hill that begins at the end of my driveway. I'm sure we've passed on the road, but I had no idea what they looked like, or which black truck they drive.
Slowly but surely, my scar is smoothing out. It's getting finer. It's still there though- it's still a defining mark of the moment I became a mom.
Seeing family together like this reminds me why the work I do is so important. It reminds me that helping other families live healthier, more fulfilling lives is important work. It's allowing more people to have moments like this- more moments with their healthy children and healthy parents. With so many variables out there these days- so many unknowns in our food and personal care products- doing the best we can to do our part to live a more sustainable and less toxic life is important.
Then I realized traditions are routines. This trip is just as important as potty training. Her spending time with her grandparents in the same way her dad was raised- experiencing the same places, tastes and sounds is important. We might lose a little potty progress, but we're gaining a foundation on which we can build a strong sense of family. Of tradition.
So here's the thing- life happens at the speed of light. Time marches on and every day you spend thinking "what if" or "I'll do it tomorrow" is time you don't get back.
Far too often, especially those of us who are moms, downplay our own importance. Our own good looks. We take pictures of our husbands or partners and our kids and don't insist on having them turn the camera on us. We hide behind our kids ashamed of our mom bodies and imperfect, probably dirty (thanks kid), clothes. We deserve to be in the picture. We deserve to take the time we need to feel great about ourselves. We deserve to strut our stuff.