Often the most negative voice in our lives is the one between our ears. But not always. A few days ago, I listened to a group of moms at a playground talking about the mothers who don’t put in the hard work of breastfeeding. Those who throw in the towel too early. How selfish, they said. How not best for the baby. Here’s my answer to that. If your baby/toddler/preschooler/big kid/adolescent is thriving, you did something right. If they are healthy and happy whether on formula or breast milk, . . .
Earlier this summer, I bought a beautiful potted plant. It was everything my gardening mama told me to look for in a flower combo—the thriller, the filler, and the spiller—and I paid a bit more for it than I would typically. But it was so perfect. I put it on my back patio and watered it daily. And then I noticed that the leaves were browning and the flowers fading faster than a new plant mom is comfortable with. I assumed it was a fertilizer issue. So I fed it and kept watering. Until it really . . .
I took my pre-teen back-to-school shopping and lived to tell the tale. Okay, that's a bit dramatic. But, really. Maddox starts middle school next week, and unlike all the other kids moving up together from the public school system, she is coming from a private school which basically means she knows about three people including the school counselor who helped us with her schedule. So, you can imagine that sweet girl is a bundle of nerves. And she's projecting those feelings on anything that . . .
I've always believed in the mantra a girl has the right to change her mind. We aren't locked in to every choice we make (thank the Lord), and we get to shape our lives in the way that's best for the season we're in. If we can make our dreams, then we can remake them too, and that, girlfriend, gives me a lot of hope. This is especially true in our career fields. Certainly there are more opportunities than ever before for women to reimagine our work. No longer are we constricted to the 40-hour . . .
A million years ago, I had a little blog called Girl, Boy, Girl. By the way, never name a blog after something that could change (aka Winnie would have totally jacked things up if I had kept that thing). It was a little blogspot account that I started when I was pregnant with the twins. I'm pretty sure my readership was in the single digits everyday, but writing has always been cathartic for me and was especially so when Graham deployed for six months in 2013. Just before he came home, I wrote a . . .