It seems like I’ve mentioned my love for music recently. As a word-lover I especially love meaningful lyrics. So when enjoyable music and thought provoking lyrics bump into each other, I swoon. This week as I was buzzing around my kitchen with my Ellie Holcomb Pandora station playing, I heard All Sons and Daughters singing Dawn to Dusk and I was smitten with one particular … [Read more...]
When You Pray About Your First-World-Problems
My pre-workout brain teaser. There is so much to be legitimately upset about, but last week, the thing that brought me down, was a first-world-problem.It wasn’t that Burger King no longer offers honey-mustard dressing, or that I had to spend the first three minutes of my workout untangling my earbuds.I was moping around because I lost my wedding ring. On Kurt’s birthday.That night, I gave myself a vigorous scolding, the kind I usually save for the boys: “Well, if you can’t keep track of that, … [Read more...]
Multiple Choice Parenting
We were having a summer, and all of the sudden it was the first day of school. At least it seemed that way because I didn’t really create any preparatory ramp-up to get ready for school. None of us are into school-shopping, so I rummaged through drawers and made sure they had at least five t-shirts without rips or armpit stains. We bought school shoes in July so it didn’t feel like “school shopping.” The boys are pretty much over shopping for school supplies too. So I had them sort … [Read more...]
The Essence of a Childhood Summer
I don’t want to mention the s-c-h-word just yet, but there are sure signs that summer vacation is winding down. For instance, our final baseball tournament is in the books. Like ballpark franks on a grill, we sizzled on the bleachers and watched a lot of baseball. Those little boys in grass stained baseball pants—the ones who made sand castles in the dirt at first base--they grew up. They’re pitching fast, hitting hard and the grass stains are gone because the knees have been ripped right … [Read more...]
When a Father Made Me Cry at the Pool
They say you remember trauma more acutely than pleasure. If the memories of my first high dive experience are any indication, it’s true. My boys did not inherit my high dive angst. I was in fourth grade. No one made me do it, but it looked fun. Something akin to flying. So, in my least favorite faded-red swimsuit, I leapt to my near-death. A nanosecond after my limbs smacked the water, my head throbbed with pressure of chlorine water forced up my sinuses. I remember “rearranging” my … [Read more...]
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