My take on self-compassion (aka self-care) is that it’s all about being the mother to yourself that you need in the moment.
The moment when you feel exhausted but don’t want to quit working on the current task because you feel you didn’t get enough of it done.
Or the moment when something you planned didn’t pan out the way you intended and you’re disappointed in yourself.
Maybe your mother is still alive and you have a wonderful relationship with her. Maybe you think of her as your best friend. Or maybe that relationship is the opposite of that. Maybe your mother is no longer here, like mine.
Either way, your mother can’t perform self-compassion activities for you. That’s your job. If you do this job well, the rewards are plentiful.
From my perspective, the biggest reward is feeling more relaxed and centered. My head is more clear. Mothering myself combats my anxiety. I’m better able to enjoy the present moment as a result. To be there for the ones I love.
Sometimes my mothering self is who reminds me that I need to get up early tomorrow so I better cease my late night Twitter scrolling and get to bed now so I feel rested when I wake up.
Sometimes my mothering self is who whispers “this too shall pass” and reminds me of all the obstacles I’ve overcome to get to the place I’m at now.
Other times my mothering self fixes a hot cup of peppermint tea and gives me permission to lounge on the couch, looking up at my knotty pine ceiling and just breathing, slow and steady.
In the mornings, my mothering self urges me to not skip doing my stretches and yoga that centers me and reduces my aches and pains.
Sometimes my mothering self takes on the role of cheerleader, giving me pep talks and saving uplifting images like these for me to contemplate.
Which one of these images speaks to you the most?
So, I say to you all: make an effort to mother yourself. You’ll feel so much better for it. And of course, you are more than worth it.
I’m marveling at how much my life has changed since last summer.
This summer we have our youngest kiddo and their cat living with us.
This summer we are limited in what we can do and where we can go because of a little something called Covid-19.
This summer we have our own camper which allows us to safely explore parts unknown (aka campgrounds).
And this summer my role at work is morphing into something unexpected and potentially very interesting.
Right now my spirit animal, the one I requested the in-house artist to create for me, is in a state of flux. Behold the Squirtoise.
The squirrel part is pondering creative ideas to bring into my new work project. She’s chewing on how best to support the kiddo in my house with the challenges they are currently facing, as well as the other kiddo who’s single-momming it over in Wisconsin. She’s spinning her wheels trying to figure out what needs to be said and what doesn’t need to be said within this blog.
The tortoise part is doing what she can to slow the squirrel’s roll. She’s firmly opposed to being rushed, particularly by outside sources. She’s soaking up the summer sun and pausing to listen to and appreciate all the other creatures in her midst. She’s the one to blame for this post not being published today instead the usual, Wednesday morning before work.
As you can see, my squirtoise is at odds with herself. She yearns to find a balance between attempting to do great big scary things in this world and enjoying the simple blessings of summer. That sweet balance between activity and relaxation. She needs to sort out when to let the squirrel be in charge and when the tortoise has to take over.
You could say the squirrel part of my spirit animal represents my enthusiasm for life. And probably my ADHD tendencies. The tortoise represents the wisdom garnered by my somewhat advanced age and desire to take things slow and live each day with intention. It’s not unlike a child/parent dynamic.
Any way you and I look at it, my squirtoise guides me as I write, work, parent, love, learn, play, and everything in between. Much like my personal Mantronym. For better or worse I suppose.
Do you have a spirit animal? What does it look like? Is it a real-life animal or person, or a mashup like mine? Please share in the comments!
I’m feeling experimental with my writing these days. Like I want to see what I can get away with; but not in a naughty way. Not in a way that’s going to get me arrested or shunned in the blogosphere. I just want to put something out there into the universe that surprises some people but resonates with others. #Goals, right?
I’m also feeling some serious writing angst these days. At the same time, I’ve been writing a whole lot. Like every chance I get. While I know this is a good thing, it’s left me feeling anxious. Like a hot mess. Because there’s so much I want to say and I want to put it out there on this blog in just the right way.
The indecision within me about what to finish and publish is really messing with me right now.
The only right thing for me to do, because I’m anal about consistency when it comes to my blog is to just Cut. It. Out. And publish something.
So off I go.
Proof of my anal retentiveness as it relates to this blog of mine: An excerpt from my “planning” draft folder (is this a thing for you too?) from 2018.
5/20:
Review both current WIPs. Decide quickly if either is worthy of being published on Wednesday morning. Morning, dear. If not, don’t sweat it. It’s the small stuff, as cliche as that sounds. But it’s almost completely true. Then just do your best to use this Chromebook during the vacay. Whenever the moment strikes. And maybe the moment won’t strike. It will by 5/28 though. So at most you’ve skipped one week of posting. Don’t get your undies in a bunch over this. Yes, that did remind me that I need new undies as a matter of fact.
Items to look for while on vacation:
Underwear
Also, Amanda’s birthday presents.
Now back to the current moment: In keeping with the thread of this loopy post from the indecisive, high strung hot mess that I am right now, I’m going to just copy and paste some of the random thoughts I’ve been expressing in various draft folders of this blog and call it a day. I’m going to re-type a few random thoughts I captured in various draft folders and call it a day (I can at least make the effort to make it look nice, right?).
Maybe that seems lazy to you. Maybe it seems crazy to me. Maybe it’s a combination of both. I dunno. But I’m going to do it nonetheless.
In no particular order whatsoever, I give you Rhonda’s random writing thoughts found within the vaults of my blog:
11/10:
Notions or Quotes that I’m fond of:
You get what you give.
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
Necessity is the mother of invention.
This too shall pass.
“The most effective way to do it, is to just do it” Amelia Earhart. That resonates for me writing wise. That’s what I’m doing right now actually, so there.
10/20:
I’m really curious about something. Well, many things really. But today I’m thinking about how I read or heard somewhere that it takes 7 days (or two weeks or six years?) to form a new habit. It’s actually 66 days. Ughh! Which, from today, is 12/25-Christmas Day!
The new habit I am going to start to form in earnest as of today is writing first thing in the morning. I like to say I do that now, but that’s not true. It’s writing before I check the forecast, read the UCC Daily Devotional, check Facebook. It’ll be an experiment. And just for fun, I think I’ll add in a new habit of writing every night too. Just for a little bit. 15 minutes even. The more I write, the more I have to publish. The more I publish, the more likely it is that I will get the attention I’m looking for.
Current moment commentary: I have stuck to this. That’s why there’s so much content within my draft folders now. And also why I’m so damn indecisive today about what to publish.
One last snippet from my draft folders:
10/29:
Right now, I am so tired. Need to get ready for bed. Yet need to capture a few thoughts. Random though they may be. K.I.S.S. It’s mostly Keep. It. Specific. Sister. But it can vary. Mantras, phrases, acronyms, names are all very important to me as a writer. Who am I writing for? Who do I actually want to appreciate my writing? To benefit from it in some small but positive way? I want to make an impact. Push someone else forward so they can push another person forward and so on and so forth. Spread good vibes. Good juju. Good karma.
Okay, now I suppose it’s time to conclude this post. Thanks for sticking with me, people (am I being a tad presumptuous? Probably.)
My aim for my next post is to focus on one topic, or one general idea. I promise!
Me, after I hit publish on this post. Though before would have been a better choice. Hindsight, right?
I was going to resist the urge to be “basic” and write a post expressing what I am thankful for on this Thanksgiving season. I mean, it’s kind of a no brainer really, and my hunch is that there will be multitudes of other bloggers penning their own posts about what they are thankful for.
In my last blog post, I shared those things that delight me, those simple pleasures of life. After publishing that, I figured it wouldn’t be terribly original for me to write about what I am grateful for.
But, alas, I have changed my mind. I seem to do that a lot.
Thing is, I genuinely have so very much for which I am thankful and it feels good and right for me to share this with now, with Thanksgiving upon us.
I am thankful for recent visits with our adult spawn and the now 4 year old boy who owns my heart. It was so gratifying to spend quality time earlier this month talking about life, laughing about their childhood shenanigans, playing umpteen games of “Hungry Hungry Hippo”, and sharing some great meals with them.
I am thankful for the blessings of November. By happenstance, each job I’ve had in the last 17 years started in November. And each of these jobs have suited me very well and taught me so much about people, including myself.
I am thankful for my best girlfriends. The one who I’ve known for the majority of my adult life, who accepts and appreciates me in spite of my flaws. The one I have here in Colorado who’s always up for showing this Minnesota girl what makes Colorado colorful. The one who passed away 6 years ago who always had my back.
I am thankful for this guy, my sweet Hubs. I truly hit the jackpot when I found him 30 years ago.
I am thankful for the community we are building here in Colorado. From our church family, to my fellow volunteers at the food bank, to the owner and staff of our favorite brew pub. After moving to the north Denver metro over two years ago, not knowing a soul here, we have slowly but surely developed lasting friendships here. What a blessing this has been.
Thankful readers, I wish you the best Thanksgiving holiday. I hope it’s filled with good conversation, laughter, fun, and plenty of delicious food!
I’ve got an earworm these days. This is thanks to our receptionist at work who continually has the 60’s station playing on Pandora or Spotify or whatever the hell audio service she uses. I commented to her that I remember my mom singing this song to me when I was growing up.
Now, mind you, my mom cannot carry a tune. In fact, I recall a story she often told about her youth. It goes something like this: when she was in high school, back in the early 50’s, she desperately yearned to be a member of the choir. However, she was self aware enough to know she did not possess the ability to carry a tune. So her mother, one of my two Grandma Pearls (ironically enough), despite the fact that she and Grandpa were by all accounts quite poor, attempted to bribe the choir director with cold hard cash to get mom into the choir.
Unfortunately, for my mom, this plan didn’t work. She was still rejected.
As a kid, I couldn’t care less that mom lacked any singing talent. Her voice singing Que Sera, Sera, among other songs I can still vividly recall, was full of love and tenderness for me. That is all that mattered.
Now, back to the song. The line that especially sticks with me is “Whatever will be, will be. The future’s not ours to see, Que Sera, Sera”. Repeating this to myself brings on a sense of calm. It compels me to focus not on the future, which none of us have control of, but on the present. On the now.
And in the now, I will be traveling to Minnesota to spend time with my mom.
This past weekend, I attended a “Metaphysical Fair” with my girlfriend here in Colorado. Hubs sarcastically referred to it as a “Satanic Convention”, but I assured him that this not the case. I explained to him that attending this event was my way of expanding my horizons, trying something new.
Truthfully, my primary objective in attending this event was to actually do something I’ve always wanted to do: partake in a psychic reading.
There were a multitude of psychic/mediums/tarot card readers/clairvoyants sitting behind card tables along the periphery of the venue. I walked around, checking them out while asking myself in my head of course “how does one pick their first medium/psychic/tarot card reader/clairvoyant?” Was there some kind of strategy that I should be employing? It hadn’t occurred to me prior to this event to give any thought to this. So, I strolled around, sizing each one of them up.
There were the ones that looked the part: bejeweled women on the other side of 60 with colorful attire and wreaths atop their noggins. There were others that looked like they could be your next-door neighbors or your kid’s best friends mom or dad.
I ended up picking a friendly looking white dude around my age who had the word “Thunder” in his name. I approached this whole scenario with an open mind, sprinkled with just a pinch of skepticism. He almost immediately pegged me as a “planner”. That observation didn’t necessarily impress me, as a middle aged white woman donning her green sweater and emerald jewelry she rarely wears because she obviously planned her attire for St. Patrick’s Day.
He then mentioned that after holding my hands in his for approximately 2 minutes and 8 seconds that he sensed I had lost someone who had a habit of massaging the back of my hair and neck. Nope, I told him. Could not think of anyone who habitually did this to me. He told me that it may come to me later who it is. We shall see.
But then.
This gentle, friendly psychic/tarot card reader directed me to pick 5 cards from an array of large tarot cards, each depicting it’s own unique artwork. He then flipped them over. The first card revealed that I was a healer. He asked if I worked in the medical profession. I told him I didn’t per se, but for much of my professional career I have served clients that had physical and mental disabilities. So he wasn’t too far off. Then he pointed to another card and said he could sense that I would have the aptitude for something called “Akashic records”. This is what struck me. Though I have no clue what this term means (he strongly urged me to look it up which I intend to do soon), Hubs fraternity, the place that had it not existed I may in fact never have even met Hubs, was called “Acacia”. Say what?!
He also mentioned that he sensed I lost someone who struggled with back pain, possibly kidney trouble. As he did this, he placed his hand in the middle part of the left side of his back. I told him that it was me, as for years now I’ve struggled with pain in that exact spot. He told me he didn’t sense this was anything serious, but that I should lay off the junk food and drink more water. While I admit this directive may have been a result of him noticing my spare tire, I feel it is very good advice that I shall heed.
One of the other cards that I randomly picked was “long term”. He explained that he felt I should stop feeling guilty and start thinking long term. Honestly, the statement about guilt struck me because as a people pleaser, guilt is a state in which I have lived for much of my life. He said I need to “get the ball rolling” and not get so caught up in how things are going to turn out. Kind of a general, solid piece of advice for just about anyone. However, I think this clearly applies to my blogging. It was a reminder to me to stop overthinking and/or trying to force the words out of my brain and onto my computer screen.
While I’m pleased with my first experience with a psychic/tarot card reader because he essentially told me what I needed to hear and expressed an understanding of who I am as a person, perhaps the best thing that came out of this experience was a book I picked up there. I’ve been telling myself that I’ve been neglecting my “song brain” in my blog posts for a while now and I swear this book literally had my name on it.
It’s titled “Soul Song Playlist: How to rethink your favorite music and manifest your dreams”.
I’ll be delving into it as soon as I finish “The Bedwetter: tales of Courage, Redemption and Pee”, by Sarah Silverman. Didn’t see that coming, did you?
Lately, I’ve been wondering where Shameful Sheep, the blogger named Blair, has been. She seems to have taken a hiatus from the blogosphere. I hope she is okay. She’s such a good egg. I miss her witty anecdotes and funny stories. She sometimes pens “random as shit” posts, like this one. Today I’m feeling extra indecisive about topics to blog about, so I’m going to take a cue from Blair and unload some thoughts I’ve had recently about stuff. So here I go….
If I could be any one of the Trump family members, who would I be? I’d pick Tiffany. Because first and foremost, she seems to be out of the fray. Kind of like Barron (but he’s just a tween so he should not be in the fray in any capacity. That poor kid. I hope he has someone in his daily life who is kind to him). Tiff has no official titles at least that I’m aware of. She seems to have a cool momwhich I deduced not because she married the Donald (massive error in judgement no doubt), but because I watched her on DWTS where I learned that she’s a super health nut and very fit for her age. I thought she generally just had a cool vibe about her. It seems to me that Tiff is able to pretty much do as she pleases (go on tropical vacations, hang out with celebrities, stay in swanky hotels) while the rest of her family makes asses out of themselves in the Oval Office.
Hubs has been encouraging me to share my blog publicly on Facebook. I’ve been a chicken when it comes to that. While it very well could boost my stats, I’m worried that some off hand remark I inadverdently made in one of my posts would make them think less of me. That they’d think I’ve lost my marbles or worse yet, that I’m a massively untalented writer. On the other hand, they have the power to choose not to read my blog posts. Just like I have exercised the power to screen calls on my cell phone and not answer when I don’t want to talk to whoever it is that is calling.
Speaking of Facebook, I find it interesting, maybe even a little surprising, that my favorite Facebook friends are actually my cousins. It’s weird because I can’t honestly say (okay, with like 3 exceptions) that growing up I was personally close with any of them. There’s a lot of reasons for that: many of them lived far away so I didn’t get to see them but once, maybe twice, a year. And many of them are either much younger than me or much older than me (on both sides of the family). On Facebook, they often make me laugh and teach me a thing or two about our family’s history that without Facebook I would be completely unaware.
Two things I feel like I really struggle with when I’m working on blog posts are 1) coming up with an appropriate, catchy title and 2) deciding what “categories” to check. I’m intrigued by the “uncategorized” category option. I feel like that for better or perhaps worse, that one word captures my entire blog. Sometimes I post about my passion for music, once in a while I throw a recipe in there, sometimes I can’t help but get all political on your asses, and sometimes I just write about what or who is in my heart in the moment. I’m all over the place, I know. Kind of a hot mess, but hopefully in a good way. I could go ahead and just pick one lane (cooking/baking, music, relationships, politics) and go with that for eons, but Geez Louise, that would be such a yawn fest after a while.
Because I’m stubborn and maybe a little cheap frugal, I primarily rely on a combination of RTD (city bus) or Uber to get to and from work each day, instead of buying a second vehicle. I can’t fathom forking over 1/3 to 1/2 of my monthly earnings for a car payment and insurance. It’s been, to say the least, interesting to use alternate transportation. The Uber drivers vary so much. I’ve ridden in tobacco scented cars with crumbs on the floor and pristine cars where the driver offers me a free bottle of water. I’ve had some drivers who seem to have zero interest in chit-chat and some who have essentially talked my ears off (I prefer the latter). Yesterday, I missed my second bus, which was to take me to my volunteer gig, because the first bus was delayed. Why you ask? Because one of the riders on that bus was arrested. I watched the drama unfold from my perch at the bus stop, about a block away. When I finally was able to board the bus I remarked to the petite, female bus driver that there had “apparently” been some drama. She explained that the dude was intoxicated and “laid his hands on me”. As a result, I ended up having to cancel my volunteer gig with the food bank. But at least I didn’t have to deal with that drunk fool myself like she did.
Pumpkin desserts…mmmm. I have collected a good number of recipes for delectable pumpkin treats over the years. Like pumpkin cupcakes, pumpkin pie cake, and pumpkin ice cream dessert. The one I’ll be making this week, in honor of my sister and brother in law coming to visit us in Colorado for the first time ever, is Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bundt cake. I’m more than happy to share any or all of these recipes. All you have to do is ask!
Beautiful fall colors outside. The colors of the changing leaves this season to me are breathtaking. I imagine when Hubs and I are old and gray grayer we will be one of those couples who takes a vacay out East to marvel at the spectacular fall foliage there.
Rocky Mountain National Park, September 2016. Photo courtesy of Hubs
Premieres of my favorite t.v. shows. After a summer of ho-hum t.v. viewing, I embrace the fall t.v. season. This is Us premieres tonight (btw, am so happy that Sterling K. Brown won the best actor emmy. His character is the heart of this show). The Good Place, Hubs and my favorite new show from last fall, has already premiered and it continues to be the most awesome show since like, ever. Then there’s Scandal, which sadly is on its last season. I can’t wait to see how Olivia Pope is going to behave sans white hat. You gladiators know what I’m talking about. And good old Grey’s Anatomy, one of my all time favorites. I sure hope the writers finally wind up the love story between Alex and Jo once and for all.
Halloween!!! After approximately 18 years of having a kid-focused Halloween (aka going back and forth ad nauseum with our spawn about what freaking costume they want and hiding candy that I bought too early that was always found and mostly consumed before the big day), Hubs and I have re-claimed this holiday for ourselves. Last year, we dressed up as Walter White and Jesse from Breaking Bad. Picture will not be made available. Complete with fake blue crystal meth (Hubs, being a scientist, relished the opportunity to create this product). This year, I’m thinking either Samantha and Darren from Bewitched because I tend to have witchy tendencies and he is a great straight man of course. Or Peg and Al Bundy from Married With Children though I’m not sure I can pull off spandex pants in public.
The cool air in the house as I’m sleeping. Nothing says “Nighty Night, Sleep Tight” to me than breathing in the cool air from our bedroom window while spooning with Hubs under soft, freshly laundered bedding.
Nesting. The cool chill in the air makes me go inward. As in, I crave the creature comforts of home right now more than any other time of year. I tend to come up with totally awesome home improvement/decorating ideas this time of year, often to the chagrin of Hubs. I get a huge kick out of going through boxes of fall themed home decor items which Hubs lovingly refers to as either crap or junk, depending on his mood. I am pleased to report, however, that last weekend he and I started a kitchen pantry re-organizing project which has weirdly filled me with glee.
Talk show Halloween hijinks or pranks. I discovered these on You Tube a couple of years ago. Here’s a sample:
Vikings football. Until about 3 years ago, I could not have cared less about football. While Hubs has been a huge Vikings fan all his lifelong life, I essentially focused on making and/or eating football fare like chips and dip, little smokies, and pumpkin bars instead of trying to follow what I believed to be a hopelessly confusing and complicated sport. After a couple of seasons of focus and patience, I now have a good rudimentary understanding of the game. I even found that it is possible, heck even enjoyable, to cheer on our home state’s team while simultaneously snacking my heart out.
Fall clothes. Oh, comfy, cozy, soft sweaters. And fleece! Lovely colors to wear like plum, burgundy, gray, and the always flattering black. With the temps rapidly falling here in Colorado, I’ll be bringing my fall pieces out in no time.
Getting company. For several years now, fall has signaled a flurry of guests coming to visit us, whether we lived here or in Wisconsin. My sister and three of her best girlfriends would come to Wisconsin for a 2 day girls trip during which we would stay in a hotel in downtown La Crosse, and get our fill of shopping at the local boutiques and shops during the day and slurp down our favorite adult beverages while scarfing down appetizers at nearby restaurant/bars in the evenings. Friends or other family often come to visit during the fall as well, to celebrate Oktoberfest (which is a La Crosse, Wisconsin annual several day long party, complete with lederhosen and plenty of beer infused revelry).
According to this handy dandy publication, the word “fodder” used as a noun means:
Feed for livestock, especially coarsely chopped hay or straw.
Raw material, as for artistic creation.
A consumable, often inferior item or resource that is in demand and usually abundant supply: romantic novels intended as fodder for the pulp fiction market.
Since I don’t happen to own any livestock, this word has a different meaning for me.
Fodder is indeed raw material for my creative writing.
It’s kind of like Kettle corn, hot and fresh, right out of that big black pot, for me anyway. I can’t ever have enough of it.
My goal every day is to keep my fodder radar at the highest level possible. This requires me to be present, in the moment which is a gift unto itself. Sometimes the fodder is crap, when I start thinking about how I can use it to pen a great post. Other times it will spark a new idea, something unexpected. That’s when writing is especially enjoyable.
With Mother’s Day just around the bend, I’ve been doing a lot of pondering about my journey as a mom. I’ve been a mom for almost 25 years now, which is hard to fathom as the memories of my children’s births are still fresh in my mind. My kids are in fact no longer “kids” as the oldest is soon to be 25 and the youngest turns 24 this summer. I surely made mistakes along the way but I’ve always tried my best. Looking back, I would hit a ‘do over’ button if one was available in a number of circumstances. I like to think that most mothers out there would say the same thing. Of course, that is a way for me to feel better about how I did as a mom, right? But I don’t intend for this post to be about the past. I want to talk about the future: specifically my wishes for my children’s futures.
Wish #1) That my children to retain as close a relationship to each other as possible. The reality is, they are the only two people on this planet who were parented by me and the Hubs. They have their own stories about us as parents, for better or worse. They were each other’s first friends. They understand what buttons to push and not to push with each other and they have a unique ability to comfort each other in times of trouble.
Wish #2) That my children will always trust their gut instincts. When faced with a choice, no matter how inconsequential it may seem, and there’s a niggling feeling in their literal guts, brains, or hearts, I pray they do not proceed with that choice. I wish for them to appreciate the fact that their body is sending them an important message which they must heed. And if they don’t feel they have the courage to make a different choice or simply say “No”, I hope they will call or text me as I am a pretty good sounding board.
Wish #3) That my children make their physical and mental health their first priority. My children both have big hearts. Hearts I of course wish to protect. They are caring, kind, and generous young people. They both have been known to go out of their way to help others, such as loaning money or a place to crash to friends or even friends of friends. I am proud of them for their kind hearts and actions, believe me. However, I worry that the energy they expend on others leaves them with too little to dedicate to themselves. What I wish for them to understand is that if they choose not to prioritize their self-care by having annual physicals, regular dental appointments, adequate sleep, balanced nutrition, and healthy stress coping mechanisms, they will not only be decreasing their quality of life and happiness, but they will have less energy to give to others.
Wish #4) That my children maintain a sense of humor about themselves. When I was growing up, and probably through much of my 20’s, I took myself waaay too seriously. This was very much tied to feeling self-conscious much of the time and having low self esteem. As I’ve gotten older (and I like to think wiser), I have come to the realization that in actuality, I don’t have to be perfect. I can make a comment to someone, quickly realize it didn’t come out as cleverly as I intended, and laugh it off. Because it turns out the sky doesn’t actually fall in when I’m just being me.
Wish #5) That my children never, ever forget that I am always here for them, come what may. I will always listen to what they have to say to the best of my ability, and refrain from judgement. I will always have their backs. My love for them is infinite.
Wish #6) That my children maintain their hard work ethics. I wish for them to envision what they truly desire for their futures and know they have my full emotional support with every step they need to take to make their visions become reality. I wish for them to not stop when faced with obstacles along the way, but forge a new path to achieve their dreams.
Wish #7) That my children be life-long learners. I sincerely hope they follow their curiosity and see where it leads. To further their educations for personal enhancements or professional growth, or simply for the sheer joy of it. I wish for them to strive each and every day to be the best version of themselves. To live as authentically as possible. They owe this to themselves as well as to the world.
Wish #8) That my children do their best to not sweat the small stuff. I know from personal experience that this is a huge waste of time and energy. I wish them to remember to ask themselves the following questions when they are feeling stressed out by a situation or circumstance: Will this matter in a month from now? Or next year? Or in 5 years? Often the answer is going to be simply “no”. In my view, most everything in life is temporary. As I’ve often told myself in times of extreme stress “This too shall pass”. This phrase has helped me through a lot. I suspect my unique, smart, kind, funny, and beautiful children will find it useful as well.
Pollyanna's Path 