Four years ago today, a tiny baby boy with an incongruously long name made me a mommy.
Every mother is convinced her child is exceptional. The difference between me and other mothers, however, is that I have supporting data to back it up.
Theoretically, fall and winter holidays are a time of celebration, gratitude, generosity and togetherness. The reality is that somewhere along the way, much of our spirit of giving got up and went, leaving the holidays a f*cking nightmare for many.
We should not have to defend ourselves to each other. We are free (and encouraged!) to make our own decisions, to be inadequately, incorrectly, or even overly informed.
“It takes a village.”
“The days are long, but the years are short.”
“He’ll grow out of it.”
“Life will never be the same.”
“Enjoy the little things. One day you’ll realize they were the big things.”
“Boys will be boys.”
When I was sixteen years old, a series of poor choices resulted in my getting arrested. The punishment designated by the court was 100 hours of community service, overseen by Reverend William T. Federici of First Congregational Church. Unphased and unrepentant, I showed up (late, of course) for my first day of service straight from the beach: barefoot, sand covered, and bathing suit clad. Rev. Federici said not a word about what brought me to his office, and set about drawing me a diagram detailing the direct connection between the mind and the heart. He explained something called “the heart of the perfection of wisdom,” and advised that I needed not just to open, but to empty the negative thoughts cluttering my mind. For a disaffected teenager, it was quite a concept.
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