MomEncouragement

Some have assumed because we home educate, we’re experts in being sequestered at home. Um, no! Driving 2-3 hours daily has dropped to the sound of crickets in the driveway. No more driving back and forth to the kids’ work and activities. No more driving to my volunteer activities. No more meetings with other adult human beings. No more hugs outside of my immediate family. I’m a hugger. That last one is particularly hard. Especially when teens don’t tend to be big on hugs, though I do receive the precious few and savor them as long as I can. And I wonder if we should even continue to hug, since my husband is still working. I never imagined I’d see a day when I wondered if my husband going to work is a good thing. Everyone is making adjustments in this unprecedented time. Everyone is experiencing some level of concern, anxiety or fear. Even our kids. Even if they don’t show it. When physical distancing began, we were just off the heel...

Image by  S. Hermann & F. Richter  from  Pixabay   Floaties on my arms, to keep me safe in the creek. Layers of clothing, to keep me warm against the winter chill of awaiting the big yellow bus. The memory of her rubbing my legs at night when the painful growth spurts hit. A scoop of ice cream in my morning bowl of cereal, an extra special treat. The look on her face when my balloon slipped away, as if she was determined to retrieve it so my heart wouldn’t break. The open arms I took for granted so many times, always there and always open. The wisdom, love and kindness she exhibited to everyone. She never knew a stranger, especially in the grocery store! How I wish I could go back, knowing motherhood myself now, and see her memories from her perspective as a mom. To hear her thoughts, her wishes for our future. To know the pain, hope and fear she experienced as she watched us flail through our childhood and adolescence. To h...

Image by  Andreas Wohlfahrt  from  Pixabay   Today my son turns 19. When I wrote a bout time management in Where D id M y D ay G o , li t tle did I know I’ d b e sitting down to write this post on his big day. I mean, 19, what the heck? Where D id M y D ay G o has turned into w here did the last 19 years of our lives go? Give me a sec while I soak up the tears that threaten to flow... If I ruminate long enough, I’ll remember “the days are long but the years are short.” - Gretchen Rubin   I’ll lovingly recall some of the work I’ve put into the last 19 years of being a mom. I wish my memory served me better. But then again, maybe it’s a blessing that I can’t recall every single meltdown, or every dirty diaper. Maybe it’s a blessing that I recall those years with a certain fondness. Perhaps it’s in our design, so we don’t recount every...single...thing to our children and scare the idea of our future grandchildren right out of...

Image by  OpenClipart-Vectors  from  Pixabay We are all walking wounded. Both the words we use and the words we absorb can build bridges that empower us to reach unimaginable heights, or they can wound us to the deepest fathoms of our soul. That old sticks and stones saying? That’s a bunch of hooey in my book! Words can hurt. And if we’re not careful, woundedness can perpetuate. Too often have I been in a reactive mood to something that happened in my day, and passed that negativity on to my family, or anyone who happened to be nearby.  Maybe someone was curt with me, or I felt misunderstood, or treated unjustly. I can imagine the times I turned around and was curt with my husband, short tempered with the kids, or was passive-aggressively slinging dishes into the dishwasher like a Greek wedding was about to take place. Maybe I was scowling when I walked by someone, brooding to myself, but made eye contact and had a negative effect on their day. We tend ...

Image by  TeroVesalainen  from  Pixabay Between what is referred to as fibrofog, on top of mommy brain, and the very real possibility that I have undiagnosed ADHD, at the end of most days I’m left pondering the question, “Where did my day go?” I don’t have the hyperactivity of ADHD, but I just learned that ADD is an outdated term, so I had to use ADHD. Perhaps if I had the hyperactivity I  could  get more done?  Sorry, that was a rabbit trail! It’s not that I don’t have a grasp on the passage of time, it’s a lack of focus and attention that thwart me. At the end of the day I review my to-do list, only to realize another day has passed of exhausting busywork, and hopefully the essentials (you know, eating, that kind of thing). Little things get done that aren’t very significant, but the things I  need  to get done to make life a little better suffer for it. This lack of focus and concentration really scared me after losing ...