Do you feel like you are on a Ferris wheel, on a ride that you cannot control, maybe even trapped in a cage where all you see are the bars surrounding you? I invite you to look up, look out and, look within.
My capacity box was full; my fulfillment box was empty. Was being the operative term.
Recognizing that I hit a wall with a thud, like a bird crashing into a window, I reached for the reset button. The beauty of this magical button, it’s right in front of you. …
The impact of raising a child with complex needs is as simple as a fresh perspective on your priorities.
This simplicity did not arrive without more than a few stumbling blocks. Or — should I say, crashing into a glass door, bolting to hide in a tree stump, bursting into a street like fireworks on New Year’s Eve with complete disregard for traffic… these situations are a part of my reality. Sound ignites a reaction. An uncontrolled reaction that can make you feel like you are trying to close an overstuffed suitcase: possible, with a little sweat required.
Getting what you want, starts with knowing what you want. For me, that is a safe space for my children to always come back to.
Every decision I make is nested in this: is the action I am taking today support this mission?
If you, like me, live for a journey of continual self-improvement, how clear are your desires? To find this clarity, consider the 3 L’s — let me explain.
What do you love? Really, really love? What is the one thing that always fills your cup?
It may seem obvious for every parent that they love their children…
The love for your child is like nothing you have ever experienced before. It’s instantaneous and fuels deep inside you. As your newborn curls on your chest, you feel the beat of their heart so close to yours, you feel love like you never thought possible— unless that doesn’t happen.
My child had slow uterine growth and I had a placental abruption at 32 weeks. Rapidly declining en route to hospital, advanced life support was called. My blood pressure was dangerously low.
Things were not looking good. Fortunately, bleeding was controlled but my small baby was under developed; the likelihood…
I’m exhausted by my child’s needs. I said it. I’m admitting to what I am not supposed to, but a parent of a child with complex needs is not superhuman. They were not gifted with this being because “only special parents are gifted special children.”
My son is eleven and requires assistance for many tasks his younger brother tackles without reservation, from toileting to hygiene to nutrition to mental health care. He has anxiety that unequivocally breaks him, and me. Compounding this reality are his social limitations, which are exasperated during the pandemic.
Being present for him all…
“I am going to make some cereal!” my eight-year -year old exclaims. “Uh, oh!” shortly follows.
“Is everything okay? Do you need help?” I ask.
“I made a BIG mess,” my son shares as he reaches for a cloth — immediately responding to the situation, taking responsibility and cleaning up.
“Thanks for taking care of that,” I acknowledge with appreciation and my son continues to the table.
And, that’s when the question hit me: How often do I thank my kids?
My husband and I have a very differing opinion on this subject, which seems to be transitioning lately to…
My husband and I have very different habits with money: it’s somewhat polarizing. We recognize our differences and aspire to raise our children with a healthy balance and a clear understanding of the value of a dollar.
The reality that housing prices have skyrocketed and intergenerational housing is likely the most practical option, in the long run, is certainly a consideration. Meanwhile, my eleven-year-old saves paper route money with the plan to buy a house and shares that he doesn’t need a car — he intends to ride a bike.
His eight-year-old brother, on the other hand, aspires to be…
Does the thought of self-care seem impossible? Are you spinning like a top, bumping into walls and feeling like you are wobbling incoherently? Me, too.
I have been in a funk. I reached my limit. Whether it’s COVID and knowing hope is close as vaccination dissemination ramps up, or just the amount of change I have experienced over the last year (likely a combination of both), my capacity box is full and fulfillment box — empty.
This wall I hit, much like a bird crashing into a window, made a thud. Dazed, with stars circling overhead, I set out to…
With dirt inching under my nail beds, on this tenth day exploring self-care tactics, I am investing in something that will require much more than a single day — or ten of care.
And, as the words take shape on the keyboard, it hits me: I am acutely aware that caring for a garden is not a single-day investment in my time.
I am acutely aware that more than a single tactic is required to steward a garden.
Why is it that so obvious and yet, caring for myself is much less innate?
As I dig more holes, homes for…
“I have hit a wall — with a big thud. Things become that much more evident as words from my eleven-year-old meet me with complete devastation. We began a conversation last night that ended with me walking away. I felt the words he shared offered examples of how I am failing as his mom.”
This feels like a lifetime ago when this realization hit me:
My capacity box is full, and my fulfillment box is empty.
From expressive writing to music to sending greeting cards, my exploration of self-care tactics continues with the warmth and natural benefits of peppermint tea.
Inspired by family; passionate about community. Doing what I can to make someone else's day a little brighter.