My mom did her Masters in Comparative Religion. Since English was her second language, she asked me to proofread her papers, which I thoroughly enjoyed. This fostered in me an appreciation for world religions and an affection for my own.
It’s summertime, which means I am spending more time with my kids, which is sometimes awesome and sometimes awful, which pretty much sums up my entire parenting experience, which reminds me why parenting sucks.
The decision to stop working, like all of the decisions I make, was completely selfish. I didn’t think it would make life any better for my kids. In fact, I am aware of studies that show that being a stay-at-home mom might actually do them harm, resulting in a son who is a bit of a schmuck. Pishy caca.
New York City elevators make us masters of small talk - efficient exchanges in the span of a minute or less. (Excellent elevator pitch practice.) Seventeen years ago, I got on the elevator at the 15th floor and nodded at my suit-donned neighbor. Then things got awkward.
March is not my favorite month. It’s a time when I first experienced overwhelming grief. The kind that takes your breath away and makes no promises as to when you will get it back. A time when I experienced loss. Of relationships whose time had come but the parting of which left me torn.
The problem with potential is that it’s a future version of ourselves that we use to measure ourselves against and come up short. Again. Not because we can’t or are unable but because we won’t or are too lazy. Which is such a shame, because we have so much potential. (Potential and shame are often used in the same sentence.)
Fantasies thrive in relationships. Relationships that haven’t started yet or relationships that have been going on for decades. The coulds, woulds and shoulds of relationship wreak havoc as we hang our expectations atop one another.
This week I came home to find red tinsel decorating our front door with an 'I love you' heart in the middle. My heart sank. I opened the door and there stood hunky hubby, all grins. My heart sank some more.
My swinging occurs almost everywhere else — in my food, in my mood, in my parenting, in my productivity. Some days I️ go full throttle, others I️ stay down low. Also known as black-and-white and ‘woah, you are too much!’ what I️’ve never been called is middle-of-the-road.