Lovely Green…

Luck of the Irish to you all, today and all days. Saint Patrick’s Day has always held a special spot in my memories. To most the celebrations would be a little thing, but I looked forward to those celebrations like I did Christmas and General Brown Days. I loved the church pot luck on St. Patrick’s Day… it was the best. I don’t recall who made it, but there was an old woman who made the best macaroni and cheese. I can still taste it if I think hard. I loved it… surrounded by the families we went to church with. I loved writing on the chalk boards and sneaking into Sister Norah’s room and seeing what we could get into. Every year, as long as it wasn’t cancelled we went to the St. Patrick’s Parade. I remember watching my Uncle Sean march with the Troopers, sometimes seeing my Aunt’s and Uncle represent with the Watertown Police. We would watch the parade, always right by the Paddock Arcade, in the bitter cold. Whoever had a young baby we would pass around that bundled up lil’ leprechaun. We clapped for that marched by… always wanting to support those parade marchers.

We would head to the State Office Building and get warmed up. I remember always going over to Uncle Sean and saying ‘hi’ to the Troopers. Then we would travel around and check out the goodies… Molly always loved the potatoes. I mean we all did, but she loved the salt potatoes and big freakin’ bowl of butter. I would check the schedule and head into the auditorium and watch the Irish Step Dancers, and then wander around to the Irish bands and Bagpipes. With a name like Erin, I felt pretty important there… I miss that.

I so miss that… but today is today and life is different. I can’t recreate for my daughters what I was lucky to have- only create something for them to love forward. I wish so much that they knew my grandma, they are lucky to know my nana. My grandma and grandpa were what I imagine the stereotypical Irish couple would grow to be, back in the day, when we didn’t all end up divorced. I try to bring them along in what I do- but I know Madeline is hanging with them. I remember growing up and watching my grandparents dance to Irish music, or pretty much any music. I still can hear them bicker… I am forever grateful for how they helped to build me. I am forever grateful for the moments, memories, smells, laughs, songs and beyond that they contributed to my story.

Today is a day that I miss home, and past times. I can’t fix that, but I can build different. I want to create something for my girls… I set out to. The leprechaun came, and pissed me off. He makes such a mess… and got real food coloring on the toilets seat… for the next few months we will have green on the toilet. I know the girls love those things, and to make it more believable I beg them to ask him not to come. I tell them what an asshole he is… leaving a mess for me to clean. I think they will believe in him more than Santa… because I hate him ❤. Then we woke up and went on ‘Adventure Day’… we weren’t allowed to say ‘no’ to trying something. I definitely got roped into buying a Lego set and LOL doll, since I could not say no. We went to breakfast at a new place, then headed on an adventure. I wasn’t sure if it would be good…

We found a new tradition…

There was a festival at the Ancient Order of the Hibernians, shepard’s pie… dancers… bagpipers, raffles and a bake sale. <Heaven>. Listening and tapping along to the Irish music, tasting the shepard’s pie and enjoying my girls was perfect. It was just right…

We hung out, then came home to watch P.S. I love you. It’s a little different but I think the girls will get it. It might be a terrible idea, but I think not. I guess we will see. In a little while the girls go to Matthew’s and our adventure day is done. I hope they have good memories. I hope that someday they look back and they love our own little story. I hope they are proud of the stories we live, the heritage that is in them. I hope that they know the importance of simple things, things like family, pot lucks, love, life and smiling.



PS… One of the best songs today was Paddy Murphy  and it really touched me… in the way that we grieve and honor death. We Irish celebrate life…



Bald and beautiful…

Imagine… on a cold, sunny Sunday afternoon watching like a bazillion (ok, fine like 29) firetrucks bring the heroes from Albany Med. Imagine little kids jumping or being helped out of the Firetruck onto a red carpet to the song Brave. Imagine those same kiddos smiling and feeling the love there for them. It was pretty spectacular, pretty special.

Today I was watching many kids jump off or being helped from the firetrucks. I watched their smiling faces and the cheers for them. I watched their Moms and Dads and siblings with them, all of them feeling the pride and love from that crowd. I stood in that sunny and cold parking lot and watched the miracles wander into that firehouse. What a feeling…

As I stood there and watch children leave the trucks, I listened to the sirens… I felt all that those miracles felt. Right there alongside those kids and the beautiful they brought to my sight was pain. Seeing those kids who have experienced IT all, is the pain and hurt that comes with cancer. Today was rejoicing, yesterday and last week and a year ago and 5 years ago was pain. I rarely cry… but I stood there in the cold and my eyes leaked. I saw Ayven, Avery, Abby, Reagan, Cooper, Emily, Gracie, Dylan and more… I saw today and I saw the before. I felt both. I felt the joy of seeing those kids be well, and the pain of seeing them in the pain that cancer brought to their lives. I know their pain, not because Madeline felt it. She left with very little cancer pain, she is fine now. I know their pain because I have watched it, I have tried to support their families and I have tried to help. I stood there and felt a wave of crying… crying for the happy and joyful. I was crying for the life those kids have today… I was crying for the time they spent stuck in a hospital, for the surgeries they had, the treatments that took them to the edge of death and back again. I saw those kids with hair, after seeing them years before with hair, with pale skin.

After an amazing parade and some bagpipes, it was time to shave. I stood and talked to families and watched as some braver souls chose to shave. Dylan braved the shave, as a survivor. Then the next round was a Melodies Doctor… and a mom I follow on Facebook. Her daughter passed this year. I can only imagine what it is like to shave all of our hair off… I wish I were brave enough. I stood on right there with my girls, and watched that mom. I cried. I stood behind two Albany Med Child Life Specialist’s, who had cared for Ava. I stood behind them, as I watched Ava’s mom being shaved to share her daughter’s story. I cried. I know her loss. I know what cancer can do. I know what this ‘loss of child life looks like’ it sucks. It is light and bright and okay… then it is a big pile of crap and hard. I have longed to meet her… today I did.

I felt a lot today. I don’t normally. I think my life and job make me numb to a lot. I need to find a place of not-so-numb. I rarely feel the BIG emotions anymore. I felt it all today. I could not make conversation well. I could not think fast. I could not stop looking at Cooper and Dylan and thinking God is Good.

I can’t wait for a Vanity Plate for my car… with the Childhood Cancer Logo. I keep thinking ‘FU DIPG’ but odds are I will get a softer plate. Cancer fucking sucks. It really does. All the way around.

Feeling is hard.

Feeling hurts.

What would it be like if Madeline lived to be a child at St. Baldrick’s? What if she were here longer? What if she got to get off those trucks? What if I wasn’t a cancer mom who had an angel to bring along? What if I got to see her ride that truck, and smile while she ran in to the song ‘brave’? I fucking miss her. I felt it today. I cheeks missed those tears.

I could barely compose a clear thought after seeing those kids march into the Fire Station. I could barely find the words to converse with other parents. I entered the world of feeling… one that I avoid far too often. It was a light dark, a lovely hurt, a beautiful broken… just like life. I felt more than I had in a long time.

Today was lovely. Today was light. Today was filled with heroes and herd. The best kind of day. The brutifullest kind of day…


Lent and Burdens…

Any lesson that starts with “Crap I forgot the cans… Lucy go find some can’s”… has to be a good lesson, right?

This week we talked about the Stations of the Cross, The Passion of Christ- to 3rd graders. I try really hard to make the lessons not only memorable- but tangible. I know when I learn things the best way to learn them is when I can almost feel the lesson- touch it. I try to bring that into teaching the littles about God and how I know Him. I joke about why I took on teaching Faith to Lucy’s age, that I would be taking a nap anyway, but honestly, I felt a challenge to make knowing God easy for those kids.

I take that job pretty serious.

This season is very important not only in the Catholic Calendar, Easter is a time to reflect on the most painfully beautiful time in the calendar. I guess I love when pain rides right next to beauty, I love how joy lives right next to broken.

The lesson…

I wanted those kids to get it, to feel a little of what Jesus had to feel. Lent is a compilation of sacrifice and celebration, every time you say ‘no’ to a piece of chocolate or wine, you think about Jesus and all of the hardship He carried. The lesson was the most important part of Easter- the Passion. The sacrifice was beyond all of those we give up in Lent. The pain is heavier, the burden bigger and the intensity higher on those hours. I get that… but how do you share this with 3rd graders?

“Crap where are the cans…” I realized I forgot my 14 or 16 cans, I left them at home. I did bring the packets for each child on the Stations. I did make it on time… but I forgot the cans. I sent Lucy on a hunt for some books and she succeeded. We set 2 books on each desk, then we started. I told each kiddo to pick up the books and hold them. I demonstrated. I told them to hold the books while I read and spoke. I started with Passover, ‘The Last Supper’… then brought them through the journey of Jesus.

Judas- betrayed Jesus. Do you know what that means? He handed Jesus over to the ‘police’ and he knew he did wrong. He did that for money and glory, but it ruined his life. Jesus was arrested and taken in front of a crowd who was determined to hate him. He was judged by unfair judges, because they were scared of him and jealous of him. He was condemned to die. “Do you know what condemned means?”… Told to.

They were following along, and complaining. I had to remind those kids to hold those books up (I promise they weren’t heavy)… and listen. We were almost done. Fast forward to the Station that Jesus takes up His cross. I said ‘set down those books’, now imagine your book was a cross. Jesus’ cross was large enough to hold him, and he carried it for a long way. You guys held those books for 6 and ½ minutes, with complaining words and rests. Jesus carried his cross for hours. He begged God to let this not be His job, but He accepted this. Why would Jesus be scared of this journey?

I reminded them that he was beat, he was spit on… he was belittled, and put down. I told them I would NEVER want that for them, but this was Jesus’ journey. He had to carry his cross, his burden to open the gates of heaven. Jesus carried his cross, through heavy streets while people mocked him and tortured him. I wanted them to feel a little of that sacrifice. Their faces were so interested and they followed along. They listened to the end, well beyond the end of Jesus. We talked about how He was nailed to the cross, how that must have hurt. I really loved the point when we talked about the cross next to Jesus, of the criminal. Jesus said there would be a place in heaven for that criminal, just like that He loved him anyway. They died together that day, and they rose right there too. Jesus died, and his mom was right there. I asked them what they thought Mary felt, and it sparked some conversation. They really put themselves in her shoes.

The best questions was ‘Miss Erin what is a burden?’… ‘A burden is something else tacked onto you moment, it could be losing your job, losing a parent, divorce, failing… many things. Has anyone in here felt a burden on their lives, maybe a cross you have to carry?’ Lucy popped her hand up- ‘I have a burden. I lost my sister, and I miss her all the time’.

That is a burden. Softened by the fact that Jesus took his cross up to that hill and carried that for Madeline, for me, for Lucy and for you.

We covered the whole Stations of the Cross, it was a good lesson. I felt like they got it, they listened as their arms got tired. I can imagine Jesus’ arms were so tired, I hope so much that these kids would have been the ones that offered water or love when Jesus walked by with his cross.

I think of the burdens we all have and how we handle our crosses. This morning I read Lola’s Caring bridge… Lola is prepping to head to Heaven. She recently moved from Northern New York to her hometown- Chicago. She is busy enjoying all the food and treats out there… but she is also changing. Lola’s mom wrote about the changes in her day to day to… her progression, her tumor.

Lola’s sense of humor is pretty amazing, her ability to feel her burden and give it up to God is amazing too. Faith can be a hard thing. Lola shows how faith is so amazing… how knowing God can make you present in the last weeks. Lola has burdens bigger than almost all people, her body is breaking down… her brain is not taking care of her body. DIPG is taking her away…

Her cross is big, Madeline’s was too. Lucy’s is now a heavy cross…

Lola offers her burdens and suffering to the souls in Purgatory. 13 years old… and offering her suffering to others waiting to enter heaven. That is pretty amazing. Lola knows where she will go when DIPG steals her last breaths…

If you ever wonder about faith and God, if you question if He is real… if you wonder if there is a heaven- know that Lola and Madeline and so many others are here to show us. They are gifts to show us He is not only real but there after the cross is carried.

I guess Lent is the best time to reflect on burdens, crosses and pain- then on the last day we celebrate. We find eggs, we spend time as a family, we eat and laugh and celebrate. It’s like life… we live, we feel love and pain, we mourn, we celebrate, we eat, we fast, we pray, we beg, we suffer, we die… we carry our cross.

So… what cross do you carry? What burdens are you carrying on your back? What does your Lent look like?…


…the prettiest Valentine that I ever did see

I remember the first Valentine’s day without her, it as the day after her funeral. It felt like a blow to the heart… to be here without her while she should have been delivering her homemade Valentine’s. All of the sudden Madeline was gone and the world not only kept on moving, it kept on delivering Valentine’s. I was overwhelmed- Madeline was gone but my garage was filled with boxes of Valentine’s and gifts. There were bags the hospital sent home with us and gifts from her First Communion. It was so overwhelming…

I started to go through all of those kind gifts- a process which took weeks of sorting and donating. All the while trying to restore order in a world now piled with chaos and pain. There is little I remember about those weeks. I do remember searching and searching. I know now I was searching for a ‘new normal’. I was searching all of the time for the elusive and nonexistent normal… the ‘once was’… the life before.

Madeline was in the hospital for only one day. That day as we met with Doctors so they could remind us over and over of the terminal tumor our daughter had. We spoke of palliative care, living now so we could be sad later… we were in shock. While we met with Doctors and cried in tiny closed in offices, Madeline was cared for by an amazing staff of nurses and child life specialists. They kept her company, let her be a kid while we absorbed information and pain. I remember the child life specialist decorating a little doll with Madeline, with an IV she got to use a syringe to put water into. The doll has a little mask and hospital gown. It was a way to help children understand procedures and explain pains. I remember sitting with her as she ‘doctored’ her doll. Later that day we packed up our things and drove to Target to pick up her meds. I didn’t really think of the things we packed up until the day I set time to look though and sort. I found a book on grief, hearts cut out to be a garland, a few books and her doll in her hospital gown with her marker drawn smile.

That was February 14, 2012. I thought about how stupid it was that everyone else was enjoying and celebrating love and togetherness. I was trying to pretend for Amelia and Lucy that it was a fun day of candy and smiles. They might have believed me, I don’t remember. I was feeling overwhelmed with the chaos and the missing… and then I read the decorated hospital gown. I hadn’t even really looked at it before that moment. Right there, next to the fake IV Madeline placed and the bandages she wrapped was “I ❤ you   Happy Valintiens day you”. She left me a Valentine.

I always know Madeline loved me, she loved big and well. I always know she is with me. There are times though that it is different- it is a little message from her. I do believe she and others communicate messages in many ways. I also know that we have to be open to see them, and to love them for what they are. I could have chalked that doll up to coincidence, but as you probably know I do not for one second believe in coincidence. I am constantly in awe of the tapestry God weaves that is my life… I always imagine it to be very colorful and perfectly woven for me. I don’t often understand the pattern or colors of a time- but I imagine that when I stand at the end of my time here on Earth I will see the most unique and beautiful tapestry- just as Madeline did. The amazing part is seeing how her tapestry keeps weaving… how she brings herself along.

Madeline is my most unique and priceless Valentine… she always will be. I am forever in awe of how she was preparing us for this world without her… and I am grateful for the little gifts she sends.

Happy Valentine’s Day may you be full of togetherness with the ones that matter.

❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

valentines mads

The Good Ole’ Days

We hear it all the time when we have young children, especially when they are acting like little children. This weekend with my nephews at the hotel an older couple watched the boys with a big smile and spoke of their grandchildren. After a little while the man came over and said to us “You will miss this, it goes by faster than it feels.” I thought… man I know. I really, really know.

I miss that time, even though I never thought I would. I used to hear those people and think, I am sure they are right but damn how can I miss this exhaustion and their neediness. I am not needy, I raised girls with rockin’ OT skills and pushed them to be independent from an early age. I loved watching them do things all by themselves, it made us more of a team. We made it through the hard times, or so I thought. I don’t even remember back in the survival mode… when I made it through days with only hours of sleep. I can’t remember how I got the kids to sleep better, or what I did when they started waking up 2 or 3 times in the night. I don’t remember those months of teething and pain for my babies (and me). Vacations and restaurants We were gluten for punishment though and still tried. Our friends would host parties, we were the only couple with kids… so our babies would TOUCH EVERYTHING… stereo equipment, hot platters and more. It was NOT fun. It is life with a toddler… or in our case a buncha toddlers.

… But damn they were cute girls.

Gone are the days that were spent at the park just playing and snacking with friends. Gone are the days of toting 5 girls to the bathroom and helping them get their pants down in time, and not caring that the park had dirty bathrooms. Gone are the days of putting on a swimsuit to take my girls into the water at Thompson’s Lake, begging them to come play in the sand so I could sit. Gone are the days of amazing workouts with my friends while my girls enjoyed daycare, or preschool. Gone are the days of random lunch picnics in march, at the first moment we saw dirt under the snow. Gone are the days…

I really miss those days. I miss my trio of Musto Chicks, my 3 under 3. I miss our days. I miss making a day out of a sprinkler, naked kids and popsicles… then a nap. I loved those days when I lived them, I don’t regret or feel like I missed things back then. I just fully and wholly miss those times.

My girls are growing and changing. They are mature beyond their years, yet perfectly naïve and positive. They are their own selves. They are creative and independent. They cook themselves, they cut veggies with sharp knives, they plan best day ever’s. They sometimes do their reading and practice their instruments. They are terds sometimes and challenge me to the core. They are pretty spectacular and exceptionally mediocre people. They go in the water without me, they go for bike rides alone. They enjoy time in their rooms without me… I am no longer the coolest person they have in their life. It is a mixed feeling.

I really miss ‘the good ole’ days. The days of adventure and naps and a car full of snacks and diapers… days spent at the park, story hour and hikes in the Pine Bush. I didn’t know I would miss those days so much. I guess that is part of it, not knowing how much we will miss something so much. Would we live it just right if we knew how much we would miss it? Would it be the ‘just right’ experience if we knew what we would miss? I think maybe we get to enjoy it more not knowing, not comprehending how much we will miss it.

So all those times people told me I would miss it and I brushed it off and kept right on going… wiping

butts, donning my bathing suit in the water with my kids and hoarding goldfish when they were on sale… were done just right- so I could miss them.

All those moments I had a Madeline, the moments I owned my 3 chicks were done just right for me to miss later. I wish I could peek back and be in those moments again. I guess life is not like that though… just moving forward and looking backwards. I smile looking back… I cry thinking back. What an amazingly simple and painful life I have to miss. Look back on your ‘good ole days’… think of all the amazing and simple you never knew you would miss…


Thank you Madeline Elizabeth Musto for all those ordinary and lovely and difficult moments I miss…

all that is missed.jpg

What a flu season we have…

Lately all I hear about, other than politics, is the dangerous flu season we have entered this year. Unfortunately, the flu vaccine that was made and administered to most is not the strain that is lingering on doorknobs and getting coughed all over the place. Many teachers and kids have been hit with the truck that is the flu these past few weeks. I have been cognizant of the girls and their illnesses, trying to be really aware and proactive so if we get the flu we are hydrated and as rested as we can be. There is enough talk of the flu and how many people have died- that when Lucy had a fever last week and it turned out to be Strep she was very scared it was the flu and concerned because she had heard many children had died. The numbers are alarming and the season started early.

It should make you mad that so many have been affected and that 37 children have died of the flu. It should make you mad that we live in a world where so many still die of a common illness- the flu. A whole season of it, a whole chunk of the year that a pretty common illness can steal so many lives…

Imagine an illness that is rare and has stolen 819 lives since the start of flu season- 819 children dead. This illness is so rare that most people have no idea their kids are at equal risk to develop the disease. The roulette wheel could land anywhere. Washing your hands, covering your cough and Lysoling the heck out your classrooms and homes will do NOTHING to stop it. 819 kids who said goodbye to their families and headed off to heaven- a place where there is no pain.

You could be going through life at your normal pace, take your child in for a bruise or a broken bone- BAM… the words “Your child has cancer” enter your life. Your life will be forever changed. Most describe the day of diagnosis as the day their lives stopped. That day starts a whole new life- BC (before cancer) and AC (after cancer)… what that AC journey looks like is never good. It will change your forever- even when are not ready for it. Honestly, who is ever ready for it.

Childhood Cancer will require one or more parent to take months off from work, praying that they can maintain insurance and cover bills needed to save their child AND keep their homes. From the moment of diagnosis, the world changes… hospitals become the norm, ports placed, surgeries, ingesting poison, radiating cancer- with the hope that the radiation does not cause more cancer later. Watching your child being taken to the edge of death and hoping that they can get their bodies back to healthy. Since October there have been approximately 5,260 NEW childhood cancer cases. That is spread across several very different types of cancer (all understudied and underfunded). All of those families were in the middle of living their normal lives… and then their new lives started.

This makes me MAD. Does it make you mad? It should. The flu is dangerous, it is spreadable and predictable. We know where it comes from and how it spreads and it has stolen the lives of 37 children. Those 37 children still should have had 1,850 more years combined to change the world… to make this place better and kinder and cleaner.

We do not know how most Childhood Cancer is ‘spread’, how it chooses one child and not the next. It is a true roulette wheel in our world. We don’t know where most of the cancer comes from- what made those cells grow in that way and how to fix it. In adults many cancers are linked to life and the world- not so true in Childhood Cancer. Those 819 children should have had 40,950ish years combined to change this world- to make it softer, kinder, cleaner and more. Cancer took so many futures…

I don’t want the flu. I don’t want my child to get the flu. I wash my hands, I wipe my door knobs, I cover my cough. My girls do the same. How can we avoid Cancer? What can we do to prevent the words “Your child has cancer”? Hope. Pray.

Raise awareness. Increase funding. Share our stories. Make the world know that this is not RARE… Childhood Cancer is not Rare. We need to do better… we really do. We need to get more mad- we need to get more active. We need the world to see Childhood Cancer plastered on their news and their feed… we need change. I know what the words sound like, they echo in my head daily- “Your child has terminal cancer”. I don’t want you to hear those words…

Let’s be better and stronger and louder. While you are at it wash your hands, cover your cough and wipe the door knobs.

flu cancer

… doing it just right.

godIt is the best feeling to hear your kids in their room, snuggled together, saying their prayers together. I grew up saying Grace, Our Father and Hail Mary. I remember one Church School teacher breaking down the ‘Our Father’ so we understood what every verse meant. I still remember it…

We grow, we change, we see, we hide, we make, we break… but those things we learn will always be the same. We pray… even if it doesn’t look like praying to some.

Tonight, was Church School, I had to find a lesson to teach even though it was cold and January… ugh. I thought about Lent- but Lent begins next month. I decided to focus on Baptism, Sin, Adam and Eve… Jesus’ big day in the Jordan. We talked about Adam and Eve, how amazing they had it. They were created in the Earth of no pain, no sickness, no death, no broken, no suffering… and no shame. They were created to live in a world of amazing, perfect… and beyond. Then came the breaking of the ONE rule… we now live in a world of rules… Adam and Eve broke the only rule. They gave into the lie… that they could ‘break the rule, enjoy the fruit, not worry, nothing would happen…’. That rule solidified the future of humans… sin was born in that choice.

So… we talked about baptism, sin and more. Then we played Charades because I did a terrible job timing my lesson. But then I came home…

I came home to crazy, normal… you know. The girls got ready for bed, Lucy pre-dressed for tomorrow (and even her brushed teeth without prompting) and Meme got ready to burrow. We watched some National Geographic and then it was time. It was time for reading- reading and bed. I sat on the couch in listening distance- and heard giggles, reading…. I reminded them to do their job quietly. I then heard “Our Father… who art in heaven…” and I smiled.

I was sitting, watching a silly, addicting show after my girls hit the hay… and hearing them Pray like crazy… and I felt grateful. I felt full. Some parents have to wonder… have to question their choices. They wonder if they are doing ‘it’ all right. I am not doing it all right, but I am doing some things right… and I think that is enough. I am working hard to make good people- down to the core. They are becoming what I always hoped for- exceptionally mediocre amazing people.

We watch too much TV in the winter, we rock out to a couple PG-13 movies, we sometimes eat crappy dinner, I sometimes wake up after the bus drives by… my girls fight, they fail, they can be great friends and little terds. I let the girls enjoy screen time so I could binge watch a show. I am guilty of failing, and they are as well.

… But look at what we did right.

On a random Thursday night with no prompting, no reminding they thanked God, and brushed their teeth. They regularly help plan Best Day Evers for other children who are sick, without wanting that special experience for themselves. They have days where all they can talk about is the cranky afternoon bus driver- then later they tell me about how they stood up for a friend when others picked on his autistic brother. They are exceptionally mediocre amazing girls… just as we hoped and worked so hard to create.

I have to be honest… I am not working to make an Olympian, a Prima Ballerina, a Brain Surgeon, a Major League Baseball Player. I am totally not the mom who pushes hard for my children to be crazy involved in extra stuff. I can’t. I don’t want to. I want to see what they have to offer, who they are becoming… I want them to have time to do NOTHING and something. I love to watch them play and perform, but I am working hard to build some exceptionally mediocre amazing and FAITHFUL girls. I believe that they will be just that- and I am grateful for the little nudge and moment to remember.

Thanks to my girls for the reminder that we are on track… Thanks to The Big Guy for always poking us when we need it.