brand new day

I want to tell my story.  I need to tell my story.  To speak it aloud and release the shame and regret I feel.  To absolve myself of the responsibility I have taken for other's actions.  To learn how to live with my past decisions.  To discover how my past is a part of me and shaping me, not ruining me.  Because even though I am moving forward, I feel stuck. When my kids were growing up, I would read them this book where a boy saw a monster in the basement.  His mother was busy in the garden and didn't believe him, so he tackled the monster himself.  At first the monster was a looming presence, but with each swipe of a broom and words of bravery, the monster shrunk.  And shrunk, until it was just a tiny little guy, no bigger than the size of a mouse.  The monster, realizing he could no longer scare the boy, ran away and the boy had nothing left to fear.  My story is my monster.  And speaking it aloud is how I face it, shrink ...

My son is starting his freshman year of high school.  You know how people tell you not to blink when they're little?  I blinked.  Who is this young man standing in front of me?  So full of confidence and excitement for these next stages of life.  I've literally seen him grow right before my eyes in the last few months.  It's like it happened over night.  How do parents handle this transition from middle school to high school?  Boyhood to manhood? I've written about Henry in the past, his endearing quirks and oddities.  He's taught me patience on a new level as he seems to handle life on his own terms and at his own speed, marching to his own drum. His dad and I sat him down a few weeks before school started and told him how proud we are of him.  And we told him that high school brings with it a different level of expectation along with new levels of independence and privilege.  We told him to suit up and be ready.  And I th...

My four year old farts in her sleep.  Little tiny poofs of air toddler farts.  I know this because she sleeps in my bed with me almost every night.  She used to sleep in her own bed, but since her dad and I separated 7 months ago, she has taken to sleeping with me.  And against all the crazy no co-sleeping rhetoric running through my brain, I'm not even trying to get her to sleep in her own bed.  She needs some extra security as she goes through all the changes that have been happening in her world and I'm confident that when she feels more stable, she will make her way back to her own bed when she's ready.  So for the time being, I have a little bed buddy. And truthfully, I love it.  Absolutely love it.  I don't want it to end just yet.  Sometimes it's a lot of silliness before she settles down, tickle rubs and giggles.  And sometimes we read books and tell stories.  Other nights we're exhausted and it'...