… and a side of authenticity, please

Honesty This is our pantry. I know that doesn’t look like much. The truth is, we’ve never really had a pantry. We’ve been creative over the years with limited space offered in older homes. We love the quaint, but closets weren’t big in the 1940′s. And neither were pantries – especially ones to support a family of 7. That said, we have more than enough room in our little space. And the lack of closets (along with multiple moves) keeps us lean. Even with the space we have, we could live on a 1/10th of what we own. I’m sure of it. But this is not a post about excess or waste, it’s a post about authenticity, truth and integrity. Despite its size and limited offerings, our pantry has a thief. Someone who sneaks food out of the smallish space. We bought all the food in our pantry for one purpose – to

Occupation: Mom

images-4 It could happen in the most unlikely of places. For me it was at the YMCA signing up one of the kids for an activity. “Occupation?” the young man behind a computer screen asked. “Uhmmmm…” I stammered. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to splurt, “I’m a mother, you fool. Isn’t it obvious?! Can’t that be enough?!” I was tired. It had been a long day. It’s May. The elegantly-dressed woman standing next to me, going through the same exercise, had answered, “Patent Attorney.” I stood there, feeling strange as the young man waited expectantly. The question was a stumper. I didn’t know how to answer. I could, at the shame of a legitimate profession, say “Writer.” Which is true. But only partly true. Because it doesn’t

A Mother’s Day Prayer

Screen Shot 2014-05-09 at 1.34.43 PM “Is Mother’s Day on Sunday or Monday,” my youngest pipes from the far back of the car this morning. He’s been asking me about Mother’s Day for at least a week now. I’m thankful to his teacher, who I’m sure has been reminding her students to tell their mothers that they love them. “It’s Sunday,” his sister answers. “Oh,” Jack says. “I can’t wait… Sunday…. That’s only two days away.” I don’t know what he’s expecting. Maybe he thinks it’s like a birthday and that we will have cake. Maybe he’s super sweet and has made something for me at school that’s burning a hole in his cubby – just ready for me to sink into all its kid-cute craftiness and beauty. Maybe he just doesn’t

“One of Those” Moms

Judgemental-Mommies It’s that time of year again. May – Spring’s December. Because here we go, entering the craziest month of the year. The month where, at the height of exhaustion, we pile on Field Trips, Field Days, Birthday Parties (so all the summer birthday kids won’t feel slighted since no one is ever around to help them celebrate in July), projects, Living History Days, End of Year parties, End of Year gifts, End of Year plans followed by Summer plans … because if you didn’t sign up in April for Summer camps – I hate to say it, but you’re toast. And emails, oh so many emails. Emails about emails, asking if emails have even been seen. Emails begging for a reply … at the very least acknowledgment. It’s in moments like these that I feel sorry for the room mom that has me in her class. I’m
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