When I asked my friend Amy Ashworth to let me interview her for The Thersday Series, I first requested that she adopt me into her family. Her 8- and 6-year-olds have WAY more stamps on their passports than me, and are learning lessons I could only dream of at their age. With each trip they take, I stand more in awe of the experiences the Ashworths are providing their children—pushing their boundaries, and opening their eyes to the world. Welcome, Amy, to the blog! I'm so glad you agreed to share . . .
Last week, I played hooky with my oldest daughter. I adjusted my work hours and pulled her out of school for no good reason other than to spend time with her. And guess what? I don't feel guilty about it. Not a bit. We drove out into the countryside near the foothills of Virginia and parked the car at Pharsalia—a plantation turned flower farm and event space that boasts some of the most breathtaking views of the Blue Ridge. We picked peonies and wandered the property. We learned . . .
I sure wish I could sit in a kitchen with Molly Reeder. I'm 95% sure we lived in Charlottesville at the same time for a blink, but our paths never crossed. If they had, I can imagine us being friends, standing over a mixer, Molly whipping up something delicious and me, well, sampling. A few months ago, I "met" Molly via Instagram, and after falling in love with her illustrations, I commissioned her to do a drawing of my daughter and our GranJan for Mother's Day. Molly captured the details so . . .
We all know there's a lot of hype around Mother's Day but, let's face it, Sunday is probably going to be like any other day for us childbearers. The kids won't sleep in and the moratorium on sibling fighting will last about a half hour. We'll still be cleaning up the kitchen, bandaging the knees, and making the beds. Guess it's up to us to enjoy our moment anyway. Maybe this year instead of expecting the overflow of gratitude from those for whom you offered life—NBD—you can extend love and . . .
As long as I've known Ashley—and it's been the better part of 25 years—I've known a woman whose heart is for adoption. The desire to graft a child into her family is something I've long admired about my dear friend. But as her own two biological children got older, I wondered if she'd see her dream become reality. When does one trade the hope of a life that could be, for the sheer convenience of a life that is already? Ashley's kids are amazing and they were growing older. If her family . . .