“Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.”  I have uttered this so many Sundays and it’s always the “left undone” part that strikes me. We leave so many things undone. I in particular leave many things undone. That card I intended to send to a friend having a hard time, or that trip to the park I  planned with the kids but skipped when I got waylaid on the couch. That thought provoking book I borrowed from the library and then watched TV instead of reading.


It’s simple; not quite a word of the year more like a concept. This year, 2019, I will not leave things undone. It’s time for me to move past best intentions or good ideas and to start really thinking, followed closely behind by speaking and doing. I’m not going to let another year go by with nothing but daydreams and the bare minimum left at the end of the year.  This year will come to it’s close with truly fulfilled thoughts words and deeds.


Pajama People

IMG_20171116_124527489 (1)I always told myself that if I was lucky enough to stay hoe with my children I wouldn’t become one of those stay at home moms who lived in yoga pants or their pajamas, or let my children do the same. I always felt like getting dressed was like making your bed; it was the first thing off of your to do list, it helps you feel on top of things and put together.  I feel pretty when I get dressed. Then I found myself with two spirited children, and chronic fatigue and pain.  When trying to dress your one year old is like trying to get an angry octopus into a string bag it may be time to let him stay in his pajamas. When trying to put a dress on your three year old daughter is like trying to toss a ring onto a spinning top it may be time to let her stay in her pajamas. And hey, that tutu from the dress-up bin counts as an accessory. When taking the time to dress yourself means that your two wonderful whirling dervishes are bound to remove everything from the changing table as if a diaper pinata had exploded it may be time to stay in your pajamas. When this whole process takes two hours every morning it is time to stay in your pajamas. I guess I’m going to have to find some pajamas that make me feel pretty and put together. I can totally rock pearls and jammies. Right?

Little Christmas

Christmas2018-1 While everyone was declaring today a  Snow Day, I declared it Little Christmas.  There were no presents or throngs of visitors; but it was snowing outside while
warm and cuddly inside, our Christmas tree is still up and twinkling, I got to play with the kids, Turi came home from work early, and I even had enough left in me to roast a chicken with two vegetables and fresh rolls for dinner. It was a good day.  Good days should be celebrated; especially when they are just as infrequent as holidays.

And just as precious, if not more. Not every good day is marked by a small feast; some are as causal as taking the kids to Target and being able to get through the store and home before falling apart or using up all of my spoons for the week. Each good day looks different, but when you begin to speak of them as if they were past Summers it is time to start savoring them like the last warm evening of Summer. Because my the time the sun sets you can feel the chill of pain and exhaustion on the night breeze.

Reaching Out

I am completely alone.
I live with my loving husband and our two adorable children, I have friends and a large extended family; yet I experience a level of isolation most will never feel. It’s not just the crippling pain and fatigue of chronic illness, but also the unpredictable nature of toddlers, the constraints of living off one income, and never really knowing when the moon and the stars will align just the right way to allow for me to venture out. Most of my adult human interaction is online (in between interactions with my tiny humans), so much so that my dear mother has more that once asked me why I post so much. And honestly, it’s just easier to make one short post and let everyone comment, then come back to the conversation when I can.


But what about the others like me? I can’t be the only person who uses their last bit of energy to jump out of a chair, while trying not to fall on their face as the blood rushes to their feet, all to save a toddler from using the dog’s water bowl as a splash pad. Because yes that just happened in my house, and it’s not the first time. This blog is not just a cathartic outlet for me, but it’s also for all the other Spoonie Parents, their spouses and loved ones out there.


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