Today is New Year’s Day. The first day of the year. It’s fresh, new and full of possibility. Every year I make resolutions. Some I keep and some go out the window the moment I say it. This year my resolutions are simple. I resolve to wear pink on Wednesdays because, well, I like pink, and because it takes me back to my ballet days of a soft pink attitude in a strictly disciplined, very sweaty artistic world. I also resolve to drink more water. Water will give me life and energy and if I’m hydrated I will look better in my pink on Wednesdays. We girls want to be pretty. Pretty in pink. Pretty is as pretty does. Pretty is a state of mind. I am no longer denying it. I’m owning it. I’m owning the fact that I adore pink. And finally, I resolve to dance. Dance has been my friend, has saved me, made me crazy, kept me sane. Sometimes I have the opportunity to dance and I sit it out. This year, if the opportunity presents itself, by goodness, I’m going to dance! Happy New Year! I love you.
My son is an athlete and this weekend he broke his hand. He most likely needs surgery and he’ll be out for the season. He has a good attitude about the injury, and in his attitude I see how much he’s grown, how much he’s learned in these past few years that we’ve had together. We truly have learned to turn a challenge into an opportunity. There’s no sitting down here; we’re moving forward. Rather, he’s moving forward. Sometimes I forget that I am not him and he is not me. I forget that he has become a man. They tell me this is normal mother-thinking. Every day I’m learning to be a mother. In moments like this, in times such as this, I believe that I have become a mother.
Look for the beauty in all things and surprisingly you will find all things full of beauty…
I’m very protective of the children who depend on me.
I never thought that I’d be called mom, and now that I answer to that call, every time I hear that sacred name, I get chills and I’m taken outside of myself and into another realm. That name “mom” sends me to a plane of gratitude. Hearing the word uttered, no matter what the tone may be, makes me happy beyond the description I try to so desperately convey.
I wanted to belong, to feel needed, and now that I’m called “mom” I attest that my purpose has been realized.
If I sound like a cliche, please do forgive as I relish in this small window of wonder, as it is so swiftly passing.
Soon my child(ren) will be off and gone and I will again be that woman searching….
So if one is grateful for the air that we breathe, how can the glass ever be half empty?
Almost forgot to find true love.
Thank God, broken towers provided a light.
Sadness lifted the veil and there He was…
She loves those children who love her smell.
She’d put them in her pocket one by one,
Take them home,
And keep their innocence under glass.
Time is ticking.
She has to save them.