cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
While prepping ingredients for dinner on a Monday evening, I opened up a dialogue with one of my boys who was making his way through the kitchen. Holding the significance of the day, I asked if they did anything at school in honor of 9/11. His response, not really. “Did you have a moment of…
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It is the Friday before spring break and my oldest son, William, is receiving a creative student award at his school. This is his first time to receive an award outside of the honor roll, and my husband Steve and I are thrilled. Will struggled during pre-K, Kinder, and the first part of first grade…
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My eyes are red and teary, and my dad’s arm is around me as we sit together on our white, wooden back porch swing. Even though I don’t remember this moment in many details, the photo taken by my mom brings back a variety of emotions. The backyard of my family home is staring at…
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The musical score danced in my ears as I remained in the theater seat, soaking in every last note. Salty tears reflected my state of being over the previous two hours while I sat watching Little Women. My thoughts diverted as my mother’s friend approached me. Her smile preceded her question.
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Ask a mom of littles what her day looks like, and she will probably laugh in your face. The day, in large part, is what it is. However, since entering the parenting trenches three-and-a-half years ago, I have begun to take hold of the unexpected practice of peacemaking through planning. What used to read “prison”…
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