Can someone please tell me

When did this

become this?

And when did this little cutie

Turn into this beautiful creature?

And this one

Become a man?

The journey of mothering is a rolling stone on a hill,
Continually gathering speed.
The clumps of grass, the tree trunks, and hillocks
Only serve to pause the journey for the shortest of moments--
Perhaps just long enough to snap a photo
and freeze the instant in time.
And then the stone races on,
closer and closer...

To what?

The end of mothering,
as the fledglings fly.

Since I last posted, all three children have had strep. I’ve doled out dozens of pills, done—oh, I don’t know—maybe 13 loads of wash, gotten take-out pizza for dinner (I know…BAD), cleaned the bunny’s cage, and shaved my legs. Twice, I think.

I have thought about how I can let me be me. I spent the weekend doing something I love—cooking and baking—simply because I felt like it. Sure, the floors needed a mopping, the toilets a scrubbing, and the old body could have spent several hours at the gym. But being in the kitchen, creating, feeds my soul, so I did it.

(On a side note, spending all that time creating good food also fed my body , and now things are feeling a little tight, so this weekend there will be no kitchenpalooza, bake-fest , or other indulgent food activities. Sorry.)

Perhaps my biggest accomplishment came with the posting of that last blog. I read it and reread it. My “be nice” filter was on big time. Will this hurt anyone’s feelings? Have I said anything in a way that might offend? (I know. It makes me sick to type it out, but these are the sounds in my head). Everything appeared okay, so I hit the post button, feeling good that I got something up on the blog.

Until on my way home, I pictured a line that might be taken wrong by a potential reader. Would misunderstanding ensue? Would someone be mad at me? (Again, I know: sick). Cursing myself and my lily-livered personality, I went into the house, logged on and oh-so-subtly tweaked the sentence. Really—it’s almost exactly the same. You probably couldn’t even find it. It was that little. But I felt better (nicer?).

While being a wimp when I did it, a was proud of the fact that I was aware of how piddly-ass I am: I do care too much what people think, and I don’t like to make waves. I’m recognizing that, and will fess up to the fact that I consciously decided to succumb to that inner voice, rather than just have it sneak up on me unawares. So that's progress.

Well, I’m counting it as a bit of progress. I am focusing on the good, the glass being half full and all that. Baby steps. It’s not a resolution, remember? It’s just trying to get to me. Because really, I am a good person just the way I am. Even if sometimes I don't think so.

Do you have any new accomplishments, awareness or other thoughts you might share in the comments?


This year I did it. I consciously made NO resolutions. Not even the old standby: "To write more."

Because it's really just another day. January 1, December 12, June 7... It's just another day.

And by really thinking about hopes and goals, by telling myself, "This is the year!," I'm setting myself up for failure.


Because isn't every year The year?

I continue to change and grow (or shrink). I let go and grab on to knew things. And it seems frequently, perhaps always, I am aware of what I did wrong... "I have sinned through my own fault, in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do..."

So rather than set major goals... especially the kind that life frequently goes against... rather than setting myself up for a measurement that CAN ALWAYS IMPROVE... I'm going to become more aware, and simply, be more ME.

You may think that's nothing... to be more ME. But as a don't rock-the-boat, smooth-over-every-rough-surface, avoid-the-unpleasant kind of girl I am, this is really kind of huge.

I will continue reading zen-ish blogs and following love-yourself writers. That part won't be hard.

I will make a little time to do nothing and just BE... that will take a little more effort.

And I will, eventually, become better at Being who I am--as opposed to being the person I think the world wants me to be.

So there.