• Old(er) pony, new tricks.

    *** We are in the thick of summer and though we have been having lots of fun, it also feels like we’ve been weaving around unavoidable chaos.  Summer has completely thrown off my momentum of self-care and I have no excuse other than my inability to focus when I don’t have a solid schedule.  Ivy’s summer break combined with a work trip then a small pleasure trip completely threw me off my path.  I haven’t worked out consistently and my eating habits have been on and off for weeks. I have gained back a few pounds and I’m starting to think I need to throw my scale out altogether –…

  • Pretty in (lots of) pink.

      Well, my reign is over. I had a good run. I thoroughly enjoyed the power I was given for the small amount of time I had.  And I feel that I used that time to the best of my ability. These last four and half years have been my Superbowl. I had full control over something that I truly love.  Oh, I knew the day would come when it would end. If I’m being honest, I probably had more time than I thought I would. But… Now it’s over.  My work here is done. Ivy is picking out her own clothes and dressing herself. I have spent the last…

  • Keeping kind.

    *** When I was fourteen years old, I regularly babysat for a couple down the road from my house.  They were a very sweet pair and had one little girl, a toddler, and I adored her. On one particular day I was scheduled to babysit, I arrived to find another teenaged girl quietly sitting in the living room.  I was quickly introduced and told she was their niece from out of state and would be staying with them for the week – and was it okay if she kept me company while I babysat? It seemed a little odd to me that they just didn’t have her babysit, as we appeared…

  • Three is the angriest number.

    *** I remember once feeling superior that my lovely little human never went through the “terrible twos” and giving myself a pat on the back for (so-far) raising an even tempered, happy little girl.  “Oh, I bet that one’s a firecracker!” I’d hear countless times at the grocery store from people observing Ivy’s red hair. And I’d proudly, no, smugly respond, “No, she’s a pretty happy go lucky kid.”  And then… My child turned 3 1/2 and some sort of miniature demon has taken control of her to the point that I now look fondly back at potty training as a sort of utopia. Now, I’m not saying animated movies are, in fact, documentaries based on…