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Today begins another day of social distancing. I’ve lost count of days, I don’t even know what day it is and neither do my kids. Since we aren’t doing our regular activities the days of the week are lost and daddy working from home adds another element of confusion. These days are hard. I didn’t want to write that statement. I started to think in my mind well I’m not on the front lines. I’m not a teacher trying to answer 20 questions from their students while also helping their own kids with their schoolwork. I’m not sick. I've been able to find food to feed my family. I’ve been home educating my kids for three years now. I recently got one of the last things of toilet paper from the grocery store. My husband gets to work from home. Part of me thinks I shouldn’t feel anything at all, I should be grateful, I’m not in the thick of it like so and so. But then I thought about it more and that little voice that occasionally shines through the darkness reminded me it's okay to say the days are hard for me. This is my experience, not anyone else’s. And it’s ok for me to feel the weight. Comparing your situation to someone else's is one of the worst things you can do in a time of crisis. After measuring my situation up to so many others, I started to believe I wasn't worthy, or valued and that my voice doesn't matter. My mind believed that what I'm doing to try and manage this crazy new reality is not enough. The shame settled in nicely, and I am left heavy, empty, and looking for ways to make myself feel better. Lately, I've been reminding myself, it's okay to be scared, it's okay to be angry, it's okay to mourn, it's okay to be grateful, and celebrate the fact that I don't have to rush my kids to karate. It's okay to be happy amid all the chaos too. I often talk myself out of feeling, but it's important to feel and remind yourself of the tools that help you when in crisis. Sit and try to understand why it is you are afraid, what it is you are mourning the loss of, and enjoy that moment of happiness when you have it. If you don’t want to feel, I understand. I don’t want to experience the pain and darkness of our situation right now. But the feelings don't go away. They keep coming back and as you avoid them, the layers of shame, the I can't do this, I'm not worthy, I shouldn't voices fill your mind till you’ve lost sight of who you are and finding gratitude is like finding a needle in a haystack.

We have to keep going. If we numb ourselves through this pandemic we will come out with a different mask on, unsure of who we are. We are going to need our strongest to piece the world back together when this is over.

Keep feeling, keep being brave and seeking the truth.

We got this,


Fresh Blooms in Providence, Rhode Island

I was wandering around the other day by myself. And because I am rarely by myself I usually feel inspired. I am able to see the world around me without my mind talking to small humans and without thinking about all the stuff they need, and where we have to go next.

I noticed the new growth on this tree. I felt inspired and a sense of renewal. I thought about how every spring it feels like I grow new leaves too after a long bare cold winter.

We learned in homeschool that deciduous trees have to let go of their leaves every fall. They reabsorb some of the nutrients from the leaves and then they fall. The process of losing leaves is called abscission. Leaves won’t survive the cold harsh winter conditions so they have to fall.

I thought about me. Sometimes in order for new growth, I have to be stripped down to the bare minimum. I have to let go of the leaves I am trying to hold onto so tightly, that keep the real me from being exposed.

It’s much easier if we kept our same leaves forever and not go through this hard process. But we have to in order to evolve and mature.

New growth is an important part of life, growth gives us those lessons we can share with others and inspire others with. Growth gives us the pieces to the puzzle of life that we need in order to survive the next winter. Growth allows us to look back on all those leaves we lost and feel grateful because we wouldn’t be where we are without the process.

I got a little bit excited to see these blooms, because it’s been a long couple of weeks and the thought of renewal gave me hope. The thought of everything blooming around me and this whole new world of spring got me excited. Spring is on its way and I am feeling hopeful for new growth and a fresh perspective. I know the season of winter can be harsh but eventually so much good comes from it. We have to be patient and wait while looking for the little things in the process.

Letter to my Strong willed Son

When my son turned four I decided to write him a letter. As I wrote it I realized so many of the hard moments I struggle with have made me stronger. The whole essay is published on Kindred Mom.

I love you.

Even when you test boundaries. Even when you tell me no or refuse to do what I ask. Even when I’ve asked you for twenty minutes to put your shoes on and you’re still playing with your cars. Even when you wake up the baby after I just spent an hour trying to get him to sleep, or insist on pouring your milk and spill it all over the floor. Even when we are running late and you scream and flail while trying to buckle yourself into your car seat and refuse my help, I still love you.

Your independence amazes me. Whether you are getting dressed, or trying to cut an apple, you have to do everything on your own. Sometimes I want to do things for you because I am tired or running late. My patience is gone and I’m frustrated because this is the tenth time you’ve insisted on doing something yourself, but you are determined, and that drive you have will move mountains.

I love your sense of curiosity. You like to figure out how things work. “Mommy, what does this button do?”, or “why do the clouds move,” or “how is snow made?” I don’t always have the answers or the patience, but because of you, I’ve found joy in the little things.

Please go read more on Kindred Mom.

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