This is Me in Grade Nine, Baby!

I am entering my twenty-first year as an educator, most years in high school, specifically in grade nine. Freshmen are my favorite group to teach. They have the perfect combination of silliness, dedication, and naivety. At the beginning of the year, they are overwhelmed by the size of the school and their classmates. By the end of the year, they have established themselves as hard-working, confident students. I love being a piece of this transformation, knowing that all of the blood, sweat, and tears I pour into these young adults is always worth it.

Michael and I on our first days of ninth grade.

Each year, as I hand out schedules and attempt to quiet nerves, I have always assured my freshmen that “by the end of next week, you will feel like you have been here forever.”

However, I need to offer a full apology and retract those statements. As a ninth-grade English teacher raising her ninth-grade son, I am becoming beyond aware of how hard the transition from middle to high school truly is on students.

I assumed there was no considerable difference between middle and high school. While students were no longer part of a middle school team, they were accustomed to changing classes and keeping track of assignments for various teachers. However, that is far from the case.

My son is well-adjusted and athletic, has great friends, and makes the honor roll. At the end of eighth grade, his teachers nominated him for a “Distinguished Student” award. My husband and I joke about this, wondering how two huge nerds produced effortlessly cool offspring. (I was editor of the school newspaper and performed in the Rocky Horror Picture Show. He played Dungeons and Dragons. The fact that the title of this post is a reference to a Barenaked Ladies song is a testament to my nerddome.) I naively assumed Michael would breeze into high school like it was no big deal. He has excellent academic and social skills and a mom who’s taught freshmen for over twenty years!

The night before the first day of school, Michael was fine. A few days prior, we had cleaned and filled his backpack with fresh school supplies. We’d attended the Chromebook swap, so he had a new computer. Most importantly, he had brand-new sneakers. He was ready!

When we arrived home after our first days, he insisted the day had been “fine” but didn’t elaborate. Little by little, tidbits came out: “When we were walking in, there were a lot of upperclassmen hanging around, kind of watching us with a ‘Get a load of these guys’ vibe. I’m lucky I’m tall. They assumed I was just a new kid.” The observations became more profound over the next few hours, revealing Michael’s overwhelming reaction to the first day. “Mom, my first period, I went to art. The teacher sat me next to a grown-ass man. Mom, this kid had a beard. They sat me next to a grown-ass man!” Even though I’d told him he’d have upperclassmen in his electives, it didn’t hit him until he shared a table with a student old enough to participate in the upcoming presidential election.

The observations came out in small bursts:

“I’m so tired, and we haven’t even started doing work yet.”

“I feel like I’m always forgetting something.”

“Now I know why Napoleon Dynamite wanted to go home.”

“I’m just trying not to look like a tourist walking around with my map.”

Over the next few weeks, Michael settled into the high school routine. We are halfway through quarter one. His lowest grade is 89 (in math). He loves his teachers, and they all told us how much they enjoyed having him in class at the open house. He has a routine for setting out clothes and ensuring his materials are ready so we can leave the house on time. He’s doing this while playing baseball three to five times a week.

After spending the last few weeks helping my child get acclimated to high school, I now know that I will be much gentler with my freshmen students, assuring them that the transition is challenging but they will come out just fine. My experiences at home helped me at school. Weeks into the school year, I check in with my freshmen. Many admit to still feeling overwhelmed and ill-prepared. Today, I commented to my students that they seem much more confident about the work than they did a few weeks ago. When I got home from school, Michael told me that he finally felt like he had high school figured out. Never again will I promise that “By the end of next week, you will feel like you’ve been here forever.:

Peroneal Repair Surgery: Week Three

Observations:

This surgery was much easier than my Achilles. It was not nearly as painful. I had one rough day, but that was it.
However, this surgery, like the injury itself, delays the pain from too much movement until after the fact. I joked with my PT that it was like tequila, letting you know you’ve done too many hours later. I pay for it later if I move too much and jostle my foot in my cast.
Michael is a huge help. The surgery was on a Friday. On Tuesday, after helping with laundry, cooking, and vacuuming, Michael commented, “Mom does a lot.” He asks if I need help several times each day. I hate asking for help, but I’m getting better at it.
My kid is the most understanding teenager I’ve ever met. He didn’t complain when we canceled our vacation and gave up tickets to two new MLB stadiums and Green Day tickets. The kid is remarkably kind.
The timing of my last surgery was much easier for Michael. It was performed a week and a half before he went back to school. This time, surgery occurred the day after he got out for the summer. He’s stuck home with me.
Thank goodness I can drive this time.
The location of this surgery is different. The incision is on the outside of my foot. When it gets warm, which it has been, my foot sweats. When sweat hits the incision, it’s excruciating.
Mike has been a fucking rock star. He works an hour away from home. After working all day, he’s been taking Michael to the fields to practice baseball. Today, he got to work before 6:30 to leave early and take Michael to practice.
Getting outside each day is huge for my mental health.
Getting dressed in real clothes is also huge for my mental health.
There’s a lot of screen time, but I’m consciously staying on Apple News as much as possible rather than scrolling social media. I still manage to go days without opening Instagram.
Telling as few people as possible has been better for my mental health. I’m not concerned about who is or isn’t checking in. The people I know are in my closest circle, and they’re checking on me perfectly. I posted a story about my cast foot at the beach and deleted it twenty minutes later. I like being in my recovery bubble.
Kindles and Libby have made it overwhelming to select which book to read next.
We have almost every streaming service, but the TV stays on TBS most of the time. It’s easier than trying to pick out movies we will both want to watch. (While recovering from Achilles surgery, I watched every cheesy Rom-Com on Netflix.)
My backyard is beautiful. I’m so thankful that the previous owner created flowerbeds that we just need to maintain. And I’m sorry for anything we accidentally killed trying to figure out which plants were weeds and which were supposed to be there.
There’s a bone spur on the back of my left foot, almost as big as the one removed from my right (after it dug into and tore my Achilles). I know others have much worse problems, but I don’t want to do this a third time.
Despite my best efforts, I’ve gained five pounds since surgery. Add that to the five I’ve gained since my injury, and I’ve got my work ahead of me when I can start moving. I’m aware that the extra weight puts more stress on my body.
The AeroGarden I found at Savers for $6 last year has given me so much entertainment. I give poor Mike daily updates on my tomato babies. He’s the best and humors me with matched excitement.
I want to live my dog’s life. Banjo has it made and is always happy.
At this point, I’ve become an emotional houseplant; I move into and out of the sun and drink plenty of water.

Random Thoughts as I Prepare for (Another) Tendon Repair Surgery

Am I really postponing surgery for two weeks to take Michael to Fenway in hopes of meeting Bryce Harper? Hell, yeah, I am! And I hope it’s worth it!
Poor Mike will have to take care of everything for an entire summer (again).
Poor Michael will not have the summer we planned, even though we can have a few of our planned adventures.
How the hell did I get back here? I already recovered from this surgery, did all the PT, and worked to get back to normal. (insert pout here)
It’s my ankle. I will have pain for a few months, work through it, and move on with my life. It could be much worse. Remember how lucky I am.
After a few callbacks and biopsies, I’ve had three clear breast scans. Needing surgery on my ankle is the least scary outcome of this week’s doctor’s appointments and tests. I have no right to complain about having to have a tendon surgically repaired.
I’m going to watch so much television!
This time, while I’m recovering, I will read more books.
Even two and a half years post-surgery, my right leg is still skinnier than the left. At least the left will shrink while in a cast for six weeks.
I don’t want to start over again… I already did this work.
I’m almost positive this injury happened during a long run while training for NYC. Five miles into one of my best runs, I felt a pop and had to call Mike to get me. It was sore afterward, cramping if I pushed too far, making me scared to do more than a fast walk or slow jog so I could ensure I made it through the marathon.
My pain is real. Whenever I have such injuries, there is the fear of surgery and complications, but there is also the fear that there is nothing there and that this pain is something I’m exaggerating or imagining.
At least I already have the boot, so I don’t have to pay for another one.
Since I won’t be able to for the rest of the summer, I’m going to the beach as much as I can over the next three weeks.
Should I give up running? Do I want to go through surgery and rehabilitation and start over only to get hurt again?

How Much Lotion Does a Woman Need?

Alternatively: Wear the Damn Lipstick

First of all, I’m hoping people see the play of Tolstoy’s “How Much Land Does a Man.

Need?”

I recently discovered the term “de-influencing,” the idea of people encouraging others to live with less. In our materialistic society, this stuck with me. As much as I try not to get bogged down by “stuff,” especially in our tiny house, we are bogged down by stuff. Every few months, I sort through various sections of my house, looking for things we no longer use that I can donate. I love the feeling of dropping off bags of clothes or other various items at our local resale shops and donation centers.

De-influencing struck a chord. I buy things to try them, then refuse to get rid of them because I spent money on them. This is especially true with beauty products. Reels demonstrating the latest eye cream, wrinkle reducer, primer, or hair serum almost always convince me to purchase them eventually, especially if there’s a sale.

Over February break, I looked through the bathroom to inventory my stash. I had six different face lotions and five different eye creams. In the shower, I had four other face scrubs. Why do I need so many? The hoarding didn’t stop in the bathroom. I found a dozen water bottles in the pantry, demonstrating a time capsule of a decade of water bottle trends: Nalgene, Hydroflask, Yeti, and the Stanley Cup. (I am currently using the Owala and cannot oversell it!) We have squeeze-top water bottles that we bring to the gym or practice. We have water bottles designed to fit in the bike holder. I have dresses and skirts that I love but never wear because I’ve grown accustomed to wearing clothing with pockets and don’t want to wear these older pieces and worry all day that I’ve left my phone or my keys in a place where they will be misplaced. I sorted through my giant Caboodle, realizing that pairing down my products allows me to toss my beloved organizer.

While my house looks neat and orderly, we are full of stuff. I noticed this around Lent. So, even though I have not given up anything for Lent in four decades, I decided to give up superfluous spending for forty days just to see if I could. It started challenging- who knew how much your mind could focus on sales? I am a case study in marketing strategies. I unsubscribed from all promotional emails. When I went to CVS for a prescription, I skipped my usual detour up the cosmetics aisle to see if anything was on sale. I do not need to add to it when trying to lessen the abundance of lipsticks and eyeshadows cluttering my bathroom. I also went through my large Caboodle makeup organizer, discarding anything I hadn’t used in a year, even the expensive products I kept saving for a rare night out. I need to realize that, at this stage of life, I have no important events to save a fancy lipstick or perfume for; I just need to wear the four-year-old Urban Decay lipstick I just threw away.

I didn’t realize how much I was a marketer’s dream until I actively tried to reset my brain. One of my favorite old bands rereleased baseball t-shirts from their hit nineties album. I am a sucker for a baseball T-shirt! They were selling the shirts via Amazon, throwing free shipping into the deal! I quickly added a baseball shirt to my cart but caught myself while checking out. Did I need this? How much would I wear it? Was it different from the countless band T-shirts I try to rotate and wear enough to justify keeping?

Much like anything, the more you do it, the more it becomes a habit. I now delete and unsubscribe to marketing emails without opening them. As a result, I’m receiving fewer and fewer emails. On my last trip to Target, I did not spend extra time exploring the endcaps for clearance finds. When relaxing, I played word games on my phone rather than searching Amazon, Target, and other discount sites. It did seem weird not to have packages arrive almost daily, but I quickly adjusted.

This experience taught me that I am not only okay with less “stuff,” but the shift was more than I expected. I consider myself pretty good with money and was shocked by how much mindless spending I was guilty of. I appreciate not digging through my closet or drawers to get the items I love and wear most frequently. I like looking at our living room bookshelf, with fewer books and board games crammed into every space. These few weeks have helped me grow and understand the power “stuff” has over us. I’ve enjoyed the relief from removing items that no longer serve us.

I’m Part of a Book Club, But The Other Members Have No Idea: An Anecdote about Social Anxiety

Putting myself out there has always been challenging for me. I hate unfamiliar social situations- and familiar ones as well. I constantly worry that I talk too much and hog the conversation or don’t talk enough and seem disinterested or snobby. I fear I will say the wrong thing, leading to me analyzing everything I said and every facial expression shared by everyone else in the group.

Realizing this anxiety should make me want to push myself to overcome this fear, but the exact opposite occurs. Over the years, I’ve retreated more than ever before. I keep a Keurig and a toaster in my classroom, so I never have to leave for lunch. I do not attempt to make plans with people. When the opportunity to make plans and be social arises, I usually back out at the last minute. I don’t think my social anxiety has always been this fierce. Covid didn’t help. Changes in social groups didn’t help. And here I am, focusing copiously on avoiding opportunities to make new friends.

Three years ago, friends were discussing books at a neighbor’s annual New Year’s Eve party. The idea for a book club was formed. I ordered and read the first books. When it was time for the meeting, I completely flaked out. What if I talked too much and came across as an overbearing know-it-all? What if I didn’t speak enough and seemed snobbish or disinterested? I continued to read the books, then chicken out when it was time to attend the meetings. I read Where the Crawdad Sings and other books agreed upon for each future meeting. But I never attended a single session.

Two years ago, an old friend from elementary school posted on Facebook that she was interested in starting a book club. We lost touch but go around the same fitness communities, and our boys are now attending the same middle school. It was an excellent way to meet people doing something I enjoy; I usually read a book a week- sometimes more. After mentioning that I was interested, she added me to a Book Club Facebook Group.

I started with the best intentions; I read every book, thinking of talking points as I read, reading books that generally would not get into my “Want to Read” pile, including the historical novel Lilac Girls. I noted the meetings and considered what I might want to bring to each event.

This is what social anxiety looks like. It’s a constant struggle to make myself show up to any sort of social event. Last month, I volunteered at the Boston Marathon. I didn’t sleep the night before, worrying about the fellow volunteers, familiar and unfamiliar with whom I would need to interact. What would my first impressions look like? Would I be awkward? Would I talk too much? Too little? What if I said something weird? I drove to the dropoff with a knot in my stomach. I was more than happy to spend the majority of the day filling thousands of cups of water, a job that, while very important, kept me away from the bulk of the action. I am happy I volunteered and look forward to signing up again next year, but I am also fully aware that doing so requires as much mental exertion as it does physical.

Now, I need to excuse myself so I can finish reading Lessons in Chemistry for the next meeting.

How Mayim Bialik Made Me Cry

While I was upstairs getting dressed, I took a moment to myself to mindlessly scroll Facebook. Liam was downstairs playing and I thought I had a few minutes. Mayim Bialik’s site, Grok Nation, featured a video of her explaining her expectation versus reality regarding how many children she would have. When she was younger, she imagined giving birth to enough children to create her own football team. Once she had two sons, she realized that was what she could handle. As Mayim spoke, she was on the verge of tears as she explained that, even though she knew it was the right choice for her, she needed to mourn the future she originally planned for herself.

Her honesty and her confession made me think of my own plan for having children. When I was younger, I always imagined having two children. It just seemed like the thing to do. I have a sister and (usually) enjoyed having someone to play with and to understand when different things were happening in our lives. She helped me through various times when my mother was sick. When it came to planning my future, I never thought about anything other than having two children.

Fast forward to adulthood. I met Mike, who was adamant that he only wanted one child. We agreed to discuss it again after becoming parents. The months after Liam was born were some of the most difficult of our lives. At four weeks old, we flew Liam to Florida to meet and say goodbye to my mother, who held on long enough to meet her grandson. Two weeks later, we drove to Maine to say goodbye to Mike’s grandmother. We came home to two feet of water in our basement. Our friends all but abandoned us after Liam was born. Liam suffered from terrible colic, eventually taking baby Pepcid to relieve the symptoms. The first few months after Liam was born were some of the most rewarding yet difficult months of my life.

When Liam was almost a year old, we revisited the topic of more children. When he was a year old, we decided we were happy as a family of three.

There are many reasons for this. Some are quite responsible and others are strictly personal:

I was thirty-three when I had Liam. Having more children at a later age increases the chance of complications for both myself and future babies,

Mike’s job relies on contracts; long-term work is not guaranteed. We do not want to have more children than we can comfortably afford.

Having one child allows me to better balance what I call the “triangle of sanity,” or the management of career, marriage, and motherhood.

Having one child makes it easier for both Mike and I to pursue our interests, partly by having the money to pursue hobbies but also because, when I go for a run or yoga, I am only leaving Mike with one child. When I go for a run after school, I am only paying for one child to attend after-school care. Did I choose to have one child so I can run and practice yoga? No. But having the time and energy to follow those pursuits centers me, making me a better mother, wife, and teacher.

Having one child gives Mike and I more time for each other. More important than the weeks at the beach house, toys, or adventures, Mike and I give Liam two calm parents who have time available for him each day.

Having one child allows me to train for a half marathon, attend yoga twice a week, and enter thirty-seven books into my Goodreads account this year.

This is not an insult or disrespect against anyone with more than one child. I applaud your time and money management skills. I watch you balance sports practices, birthday parties, and overall needs of multiple children with admiration and respect.

I watched Mayim explain that, while she was content in her decision to stop having more children, she also needed to mourn her original plan. That line summed up how I feel. There are times I wholeheartedly wish we had more than one child, simply because that was the original plan. However, I know that I am meant to be the mama of one child. As I watched, I began to tear up, relieved that someone else understands how I feel. Before the video finished, I heard my bedroom door open. My first impulse was to sigh, slightly frustrated that I cannot get five minutes alone to get dressed.

“What’s up, Bug?” I asked.

“I just needed to know where my mama is. I love you.”

Pinterest Princess or Bust?

This sums up my life:

I hate to bake. I hate crafts. Basically, I hate any activity that involves closely following directions. When Mike and I first moved in together, he was amazed at my inability to put together IKEA furniture.

Fast forward thirteen years. We have an incredible eight-year-old boy, one we intentionally tried to have in February to time my maternity leave, allowing me to stay home for seven months. Each February since, we curse ourselves as we try to plan his birthday party. We usually have his party at various indoor facilities throughout the state. Last year his party was at McCoy Stadium. While his parties have always been fun, Liam wanted an outdoor party so we didn’t have to worry about time or how many kids he could invite. We decided to celebrate his eight and a half birthday over the summer. When he asked if he could have a Harry Potter themes party, I jumped at the chance to let him have a party in a theme I really liked (as opposed to last year’s love of Minecraft). Liam and I have been reading the illustrated books together. I love that he loves them. (I’ve stated earlier that I sometimes feel guilty for not sharing his enthusiasm for things he loves, such as Star Wars, Minecraft, and Pokemon.)

I told him that this would only work if he helped me, which he happily obliged. We set off on Pinterest. He started off having much more faith in our abilities that I even had, wanting to make Hogwarts letters to send out to friends.

“We can put wax on them and send them to everyone.”

“I already sent out a Facebook invitation.”

Liam really wanted to give his friends wands. We had recently visited Wynotts Wands in Salem, where Liam chose his wand. He understood that we could not afford to buy each kid a wand. The bulk ones online were either too cheap or too expensive. Pinterest shared a tutorial for making wands that actually seemed reasonable. We ordered chopsticks, hot glue gunned the ends, then painted them. Liam was happy to help, and the finished products were pretty cool!

We also made golden snitches and chocolate frogs. Liam began asking me to make the chocolate frogs on Monday. Knowing I could not be trusted with that much chocolate in the house, we needed to wait until Friday.

We made a Quidditch court. Mike was happy to act as our Quidditch coach. The kids had a ball playing.

I set up a table for “potion class” containing small cauldrons of baking soda and vinegar. They were about to mix the ingredients in their cauldrons and watch the reaction. Liam used to love doing this trick, but I feared that they would think it was silly or childish. Potion class was a hit!

After potion class was wand class, in which the students needed to keep their balloons in the air.

My only real goof-up involved the cake. I assumed I could order a cake from Stop and Shop a week before the party. I was wrong; they no longer carry the cake kit. Walmart does not have Harry Potter cakes, either. After Googling “easy Harry Potter cakes” for a while, I decided to order cupcakes from Stop and Shop and cake decorations from Amazon. It worked out just fine.

After a week of making golden snitches, wands, and Quidditch courts, Mike began calling me his “Pinterest Princess.” While I don’t see myself doing this again, the process wasn’t terrible. I love Liam’s ownership in the planning. I didn’t mind doing the projects with him. I’m also painfully aware that the number of years remaining of planning birthday parties and Liam wanting to spend all of his time with Mike and I are dwindling. I need to make the most of it while I can.

Week Five: The Best Choices I’ve Made

This has been the week of weeks!

Mike had his gallbladder out.

Liam wasn’t feeling well; he tested positive for thyroid antibodies, most likely caused by Hashimoto. We have a referral to an endocrinologist. I am relieved to know what is the cause of his symptoms. As someone who also suffers from thyroid issues, I am confident in my ability to help him manage the condition.

I pulled a calf muscle, leaving me unable to run for two weeks.

Our bank accounts were hacked twice. We knew we would get our money back, but it is time consuming to get everything back in order.

I had oral surgery and, according to doctor’s orders, should only be eating soft foods (scrambled eggs, pasta, etc.) This lasted less than a week before I went to eating softish foods on the other side of my mouth.

If nothing else, this week served as a reminder about the importance of perspective. It was a reminder of how well Mike and I work together. We could have buckled under the stress, but it brought us closer. We made time to chat. We laughed and giggled. We finished the week reminded that we chose the best possible partners for this life of ours.

So this brings us to this week’s topic: What are the best choices you’ve made?

Marrying Mike is at the top of that list. I am thankful I met him when I did; my previous self would have played gamed and ruined the relationship. He supports me, argues fairly, and is an amazing dad! I am beyond lucky that Mike walked into my life when he did.

Going back to school. Now that I have been teaching for fifteen years, other jobs feel like they were in another lifetime. After a few years of working odd jobs after high school, I started college when I was twenty-one. It took me five and a half years to earn my Bachelor’s degree, but I did it! I knew at a young age that I wanted to be a teacher. Going back to school and fulfilling that dream was one of the best decisions I’ve made.

Being picky about friends. My friends are amazing! I’m glad I chose not to settle!

Stepping out of my comfort zone. Running, traveling to California, starting a blog (then sharing it with people). Some of my greatest joys in the past few years stem from doing things that scare me.

Liam is a little young to be in a position to analyze life decisions. I asked him about some good choices he’s made.

Making good friends. He’s at an age in which he is realizing that, while most people are friends, not everyone fits that description. It’s not that he has enemies, he’s eight. But he has learned that it’s easier not to try to be best friends with everyone.

Loving to read. Liam loves to read! He is struggling with math, but the boy loves to read. He will read whatever he can find: magazines, chapter books, graphic novels, resource books. I love that he loves to read and I’m willing to do what I can to nurture that love.

Week Three: Things I Am Good At

This one is difficult! I think about the things that make up the most significant portion of my life, and I struggle to find things I am good at without following with “but” or “even though.” I am good at making bread even though I am terrible at baking. I struggled to create this list, but I managed to build it.

Being organized. I am ridiculously organized. I can elaborate, but that would make for boring writing. Trust me, I am fabulous at organizing.
Planning and time management. I am a self-proclaimed “pre-crastinator.” I get things done, and I get them done as soon as possible. My entire school year is planned before well before the first day of school, sometimes before the last day of the previous school year. My clothes are planned for the week. Knowing where things are going is one of the easiest ways for me to control my anxiety.
New Planner Day is one of my favorites!
Setting goals. I often tell Liam that he is not allowed to merely complain. If he doesn’t like something, he needs to either do something about it or accept it. At this point, he finishes complaints by saying he will practice. “I’m not as good at drawing circles as my other friends… I know, I know, I need to practice.” If there is something I want to be able to do, I try to create a plan to make it happen.
Teaching. Teaching is the career I chose at the age of twelve when Mr. Eccelston cemented my love of reading and writing. It was then I decided I wanted to do exactly what he does. I consider myself fortunate that I knew at a young age what I wanted to do with my life. While the road to teaching was a long and winding one, I am thankful life took me down the path it did. After fourteen years, teaching is still something I enjoy. I feel I truly make a difference.

When Liam was younger, he had all the self-confidence in the world. As he gets older, he is beginning to doubt himself, which is sad to watch. I asked him what he thinks he is good at and he, too, struggled to think of real, noteworthy items to put on his list.

Hanging and pull-ups. He just learned to do pull-ups and is very proud of himself, doing them from the swingset and the pull-up bar in our house as often as possible.
Reading. Liam loves to read! He will read just about anything he can get his hands on: magazines, fiction, nonfiction, graphic novels. Right now, he’s devouring the Dog Man and Minecraft series. I love that he loves to read and I love his confidence regarding his ability to do so.
Playing outside instead of sitting in front of the TV. I was surprised to head Liam state this one because, like most kids, the struggle to balance screen time is real. Once he said it, I noticed that I can’t remember the last time he even turned on his tablet. He’s been reading his books. He and I had a Saturday morning date. After our classes at Laid-Back Fitness, we went to a new coffee shop then headed to the used bookstore. Liam loves roaming the isles and looking at all of the books. Because we came home with a shopping bag full of books, he has been focused on those over Minecraft and other games on his tablet. The weather has been so beautiful this week that we have been spending a lot of time outside. I’m thankful that he is conscious of his good decisions.

52 Lists for Happiness

I stumbled across a blog mentioning the book 52 Lists for Happiness. The writer is posting entries weekly on her blog. I liked the idea so much that I immediately ordered the book myself and decided to try to follow suit. The next year is bringing a lot of changes, so it seems like a perfect time to prioritize and search for happiness. I’ve decided to use this exercise as an opportunity to get ideas from Liam as well. We walk Banjo twice a day, allowing plenty of time for discussions. These walks are some of my favorite times, even when Liam talks my ear off about Zelda or Minecraft. I’d love to ask Liam to create as many of these lists as possible and share them with him when he gets older.

Week one is pretty straightforward: List what is making you happy.

Mike and Liam: They’re both such great people! I am truly blessed.

Spring: Finally! We will soon be complaining about the heat and humidity, but for now, let’s enjoy the warm weather, open windows, and longer days. This is the first week Liam and I didn’t have to bundle up during our morning walks. Last night, we ate dinner outside. It is such a welcome change!

My friends: Without them, I would never have signed up for a half-marathon, nevermind been excited about it! My friends keep me laughing and trying to be a better person! What more could one ask for?

Fitness Challenges: Last weekend was the half-marathon. I’m also participating in a challenge through Laid-Back Fitness. I’m interested to see how my body changes when I focus on strength over cardio.

And from Liam:

Banjo

Going for walks with Banjo

Playing with Banjo (Do you see a theme?)

You and Dad

Harry Potter

Making my First Communion

I love the idea of focusing on the positive things in our lives. While the next few months will bring a lot of changes, there are a lot of great things going on in all of our lives. Perspective helps keep us all finding the positive things happening in our lives.