At that point, I was reminded that some people really have the ability to retain an element of childlike purity within them; the little things truly matter; we can be happy if we choose to be; our attitudes towards things can magnify our joy; I don’t have to be rich to seriously overwhelm my mom with happiness, joy and pride.
You see, I was the type of little girl that didn’t run around too much, didn’t play too rough, didn’t fall down and get injured. But the confidence and settled-ness of my 30s are opening me up to trying new things, spurring me to push past imaginary boundaries of comfort zones towards purposely creating a full life that I am proud to live. So, when my friend sent out an open call for new players, my response was not “why”, which is the question that I have received the most when I tell people about this new past time, but “why NOT”? Since joining, I have been in awe of what I have discovered. I know for certain that I made the absolute right decision and I feel very privileged to be part of this league.
There is something about the summer that makes it the perfect time to read. I have a theory that the most anticipated books of the year come out in the summer. This summer, I've already read An American Marriage, and I am looking forward to reading Educated with a friend.
Have you heard about the Global Book Exchange? Have you already participated? Once I saw it on a friend’s IG story on Sunday, I knew I had to be part of it.
I think that being a mother is not about whether your child walked at 11 months, or how harried your morning routine tends to get, or whether they are wearing matching socks. Being a mom is about the instinct and heart that you have for your children. The way you consider them and always put them first – above even yourself. This is why, as I tell my friends all the time, as long as you are trying, you are the best mother for your child, the only mother they will ever need.
Happy Mother’s Day! You have the ability to transform mere bricks and mortar into the safest most loving place on earth; your arms are the most comforting blanket; your lap, the best seat in the house >> initially for all of my weight and eventually, the resting place for my head; your hand in mine, the greatest foundation and encouragement; your voice and words, the sweetest sound, the truest truth I have known >> compass, guide, beacon, conscience.
I am not anything that remotely resembles a runner. There is a smirk on my face as I write the word “runner” in conjunction with my name. I know some runners – I am not one of them. I quite literally, “run like a girl”; this phrase would not be an insult if applied to me. This is so, not because of my run time or my athleticism, but rather, the way my hands sway and my hips sashay. In secondary school, they laughed and jeered when in my SS3 my house was so desperate for runners that they included me in their 4 x 400m relay lineup >> I ended up being the linchpin, so "dusts my shoulder".