I woke up this morning with my two little ones snuggled next to me, one on each arm. My kids love to lie on ‘mama arm’ and I love having my chickens under my wings for a morning cuddle. They were neither delirious with joy at seeing me, nor shunning me because I had deserted them, they were pretty much just themselves. Honestly, I felt a bit deflated. I thought there would be some sort of consequence of my absence – they would cling to me all day today, or they would refuse to talk to me because they wanted to punish me for my transgressions, or they would beg me not to leave again because they missed me so much. Nothing. They talked a bit about their grand weekend adventures, and all the ice cream they ate, and then they started bugging each other, fighting over toys, refusing to put their shoes on… all the very ordinary, very usual behaviors that mark a school morning. No lightning bolt. No metamorphosis. Not even extra kisses.

So, the good news here is that our weekend away scarred nobody and may actually have done everyone some good. Husband and I had a wonderful time, the boys had a wonderful time, everyone slept through an entire night! That again, is mildly deflating and perhaps even annoying… Why do they sleep like angels when I am away, and wake me 3 times a night when I am home? My oldest said that he was missing me and just had to ignore it, so he slept all night. I asked him to just ignore me when I am home and sleep all night, but he said he couldn’t, he needs something sad to ignore?! I understand where he is coming from, but I so loved sleeping for 7 or so uninterrupted hours!! I really would like to figure out a way to keep doing that!

I am very grateful for the two wonderful women who worked together to make this weekend so easy on the boys. Without them, I am sure I would not have had nearly as much fun. But every time I called to say hi, the boys were too excited about going out for ice cream, or getting ready to get to the zoo, or building some epic tower to really talk to me for long. They were happy to say hi and hear my ‘I love you’s, but then they were off. And hearing that made me feel fabulous! I could enjoy myself, ditch the guilt, and let them get on with their own adventures. It took a huge weight off me to hear their carefree chatter. And I know I owe that to the loving care they got from people they already knew and trusted. What a relief to finally have that support again!

The truth is, once we were on the plane, I began to relax. I had left photos, shirts I’d been sleeping in, a long list of phone numbers, membership cards to the zoo and all sorts of other fun places, groceries, my car for outings, snuggly animals and lots of hugs and kisses and assurances that I’d be back. I had done all I could, and I had a very capable team taking the reins. I had to trust that it would be ok. And after a cheery goodbye from the boys, I started to believe that it might. I was still a bit tearful on the way to the airport, sending a few more texts about things to do or not to do, checking a few more details, leaving my final thoughts… but by the time I was on the plane with a good book and a cup of tea, I was pretty much fine.

And then we arrived, I called home, and the boys were so cheery and busy, that I really relaxed, and starting to have fun. I had an hour or so to do my own thing, and could truly follow my own nose, not worrying about what anyone else needed or wanted. It was a strange and unfamiliar sensation, but not at all unpleasant. We later set off for the rugby, which was the main attraction for our weekend… not very romantic, I know, but it gave us a focus for our first getaway in almost 7 years, and it channelled our energy. (And the Blitsbokkies won!!!!) After an afternoon of rugby and South African food, we were relaxed, caught up on each other’s lives, enjoying each other’s company, and full of plans for a leisurely morning on Sunday. This is a luxury we never have – leisurely mornings or the chance to chat more after covering the basics. If we get out for dinner – which doesn’t happen that often either!! -we only have a couple of hours and it never feels like enough, so having another day was amazing!

I checked in on the boys again in the morning on Sunday, and after their nap, and each time they sounded happy and very busy. And each time I felt a bubble of joy and relief rise inside me. Knowing they were fine freed me to just enjoy myself. And I did! Husband and I reconnected and kids grew up a little, knowing that they could survive our absence, and that we really do always come back. For me, going away was a rite of passage. I learned that the kids can survive my absence, and I can survive separating from them. I did miss out on the fun they had, but that is ok. I had my own fun and I paid more attention to myself than I have in a while, and to my biggest boy 😉 We all grew up a bit, and I grew a little closer to myself and to my husband. All in all, I would say the weekend was a roaring success.

Tomorrow my husband and I are getting on a plane for an overnight getaway for the first time since our little guy was born and the first time since moving to Denver. (Actually it’s the first time since both kids were born – 6+ years – that we are actually getting onto a plane and can’t get home in an hour or two). On the one hand, I am delighted that we have found two wonderful women we can trust to take care of our boys and we can actually leave the house together; on the other hand, I am absolutely sick with separation anxiety on behalf of myself and my boys. Everyone I have spoken to about my panic has been reassuring, reminding me that nothing will happen to the boys, and that I should concentrate on having fun. While I know that this is good advice, and my head recognizes the truth in their words, my heart is a mess. I know many parents get away more regularly and easily than we do, but for me this is monumental. And now that our departure is imminent, I can no longer hide from my jumbled emotions.

My little guy lost a stuffed friend today and it was almost too much for me – it felt like a blow to the solar plexus and completely shook my confidence in being able to leave him. I manically searched the house and car, called the grocery store (and went there to double check that they had not missed the precious pup in their cursory scan), reran the entire day in my mind… and then collapsed into tears of desperation, devastation, feeling winded by the unscheduled meanderings of a fluffy finger puppet pet. It is now perhaps an hour later, and I have regained some of my equilibrium, but I can’t say that I am entirely calm or excited or even sane. I am feeling distinctly UNsuper, in fact.

I am beginning to recognize that some of my anxiety comes from the realization that my children are growing up, and I am losing control. I cannot be with them at every turn and keep watch over them. I cannot keep them safe from everything they will face, from all that awaits them in the world. They are going to have experiences that I am not a part of. They will share stories that I will no longer be able to explain or complete. They will go places I have not been, learn things I have never known. This too is exhilarating, enriching, enchanting and excruciating. I have to let them grow, and slowly let them go. All the while loving them, as I do, with every fiber of my being.

Of course some of the anxiety I am feeling comes from the usual sorts of irrational fears that are vague and general… something about emergency rooms and nausea and monsters under the bed. And faring into the unknown. New territory for all of us.

I have decided to go ahead with the trip in spite of the tumult inside, resolving to call the kids often, send pictures, leave behind clothes that smell of me, list all the neighbors’ and friends’ phone numbers I can lay my hands on in case of I don’t know what, buy little gifts to bring home, and focus on having fun while I’m gone. This is a rare opportunity for the grown ups in the household to spend more than an hour or two in each other’s company, and that has to count for something too. My biggest boy deserves some attention too!

So wish me luck. Here I go…

On the eve of Valentine’s Day, I find myself reflecting on the past week, and the lessons I have learned about love… Last Sunday I spent all day with kids while their dad was working. At the end of the day, I made them dinner, gave them a bath, read stories and snuggled them into bed. After that, I cooked two suppers (one for the grown ups and one for Monday night, knowing we’d be home late from school), made school lunches, got everything laid out for breakfast, checked the kids’ backpacks were ready (including the necessary full change of clothes for the little one), and then edited the document dad had been working on all day. I felt very accomplished; for once I was a bit like a super mom! And then I collapsed into a self-righteous sleep.

The reason I did all this crazy stuff (which isn’t really that crazy for moms, is it?) is that I was a bit nervous about Monday – the first day back to school after weeks of sickness, husband traveling at dawn after a long stint at home, kids likely to be sad and still dragging a bit, and me still coughing and spluttering. But my preparation paid off! Me and the boys made breakfast together, we ate (with no fuss), and then they helped me clear the table, unload the dishwasher, and get the kitchen tidy… And they even got dressed, brushed their hair and teeth, and put their shoes (or rainboots) on without me having to nag!! I was amazed how well everything was going, and continued congratulating myself on my planning and preparedness. Of course there was enough laundry to sink a small ship, the kitchen table is still invisible under craft projects in progress, the living room was a pillow fort, and the kids essentially ate donuts for lunch on Sunday – but you have to celebrate the victories to keep going!

The week continued in this vein, with lots of teamwork, many house cleaning tasks completed daily, boys helping with dinners, and so on. I tackled organizing projects that I have been avoiding for months, and stayed up too late trying to come up with better systems to try and keep things tidy. On Tuesday morning, the boys came racing upstairs, begging me to hurry up and get dressed because the toast was made and the table set and they needed me to come and cook the eggs! I was almost tearful when I rushed downstairs to find three plates on the table, each proudly sporting a single slice of toast. These are major milestones, worth celebrating!

By Thursday, we were melting crayons to make hearts for Valentine’s Day, and I was melting too. I had burnt out after a week of trying to do it all – from cleaning, to cooking healthy, fun meals, to tidying and organizing the entire house, crafting, reading, snuggling, signing petitions, following the news, being a sweet and engaging mom every minute… and I don’t even have to try and fit in a job outside of home! It’s not that I don’t usually do most of this stuff anyway; it was more the intensity and the extra pressure on myself to make it marvelous, that made this week too long. This is why being super mom doesn’t work! I can just be a good enough mom with super moments. If I try to do more than that, I neglect or utterly exhaust myself, and it all begins to unravel. So, I guess I just need to stick to being UNsuper…  These words give me comfort, when I feel I’m not being super enough: “Do not think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary. What we need is to love without getting tired.” Mother Teresa

There have been many articles popping up on Facebook about activist burnout, often saying, ‘this is a marathon, not a sprint’. They remind those who are active in the resistance against dictatorial destruction, to rest, take a break from social media, surround themselves with people who share their mission, drink water!! And to celebrate the wins. I love these reminders! And they got me wondering whether there are short pithy reminders like this for moms? Catchy phrases and memorable graphics? We certainly deserve the same praise, recognition, and encouragement! We need that group of like-minded friends and fellow parents around us. Parenting is no short-term gig or a job you can leave at 5pm. (Actually that’s when the hardest shift usually starts!) It’s pretty much 24/7/365 for 18 years or more. Arguably much more!! I still talk to my mom most days so you could say her job has continued over 40+ years, though the hours are arguably a little shorter now! And for me, with young kids in my care, I don’t make a single move without thinking of them first. I don’t plan to have so much as a cup of tea with a friend without first planning what they’ll need, where they’ll be, and who will be lovingly watching over them. And if I can’t tick all the boxes, I’m not going out. It’s that simple. And relentless. And sometimes lonely. So yes, burnout strikes from time to time!

While thinking about burnout, I stumbled on some quotes from Mother Teresa. An unlikely inspirational figure for me in some senses, but then again, maybe not. Her title was Mother after all. And her main message was love. So here I am, mother and novice activist, finding surprising wisdom and inspiration as I reflect on her words. I loved that quote about loving without getting tired. And here is another good one: “Everybody today seems to be in such a terrible rush, anxious for greater developments and greater riches and so on, so that children have very little time for their parents. Parents have very little time for each other, and in the home begins the disruption of peace of the world.” I love the way she brings the focus home. This is the wisdom I was raised on too – my mom always talked about making time for your family, saying that ‘charity begins at home’. Giving time and attention can be tiring, but it is what we all crave. My mom spoke about people wanting to be ‘considered, respected, acknowledged, appreciated.’ I see this more and more clearly all around me, especially as the country rises up in resistance, and fights for social justice. People are crying out to be noticed, appreciated, treated with respect – whether they are Muslim, immigrant, women, black, LGBTQ, pregnant, old, sick… People feel forgotten, marginalized, judged, bullied, disrespected. And the basic truth is, we are all people, and we all want to be loved. As Mother Teresa put it, “Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat.”

So perhaps the greatest activism begins with the simplest things – love for our children, our families, our neighbors, the other families at the park and at school, the people in the grocery store or at the gas station… And this love can be shown very simply through a hug, a smile, a kind word, a shared laugh… By just remembering the people around us, and giving our time and attention to them, we can enrich them and warm them and nourish them.

And so, though I get tired, disheartened, nauseated, exasperated, I keep loving. Because I really do believe that is what will make a difference – to myself, my kids, my family and friends, my country. Because we are all human, and love keeps us going.

Why do pediatricians think they are the authorities on parenting, even if they don’t have kids of their own? Why do they think that understanding the physiology of the human body makes them experts on my child’s temperament, my family’s sleep, potty training, diet? Why do they think it is acceptable to tell me whether or not to breast feed, whether or not to let my child ‘cry it out’, when to ignore him and when to hug him? Why do they treat mothers like naughty children when they disagree with our parenting practices, shaming and criticizing what they see us doing ‘wrong’?  Why do they prey on young parents who are out of their depth and looking for any reassurance or support they can find? Kids’ dentists don’t do this. They stick to advice about brushing, rinsing, healthy foods to keep teeth strong. They may suggest you wipe your baby’s teeth after nursing in the night (not so much!) but they would never tell you to stop nursing! (Well, mine never did and I nursed both my boys til they were about 2.) And in general I find them encouraging, praising you and your kids on a good job brushing and giving the kids prizes for being brave in the chair. It’s rather nice.

Of course, there are many wonderful pediatricians out there and many other well-qualified people genuinely seeking to help and support parents. But no matter who they are, they are not our children’s parents, we are! They are not the foremost experts on our children, we are! They are not entitled to tell us how to raise our children, that is our ongoing task. I will not be dictated to by doctors who do not know me or my family. I will follow my instincts and hold my babies close. I will do whatever I can to make them comfortable when they are sick. I will give them kid night so they can have a say over their own meals. And I will lie with them until they fall asleep, regardless of the doctor’s views on sleep training. Soon enough they will be pushing me away, embarrassed by my kisses. So, however exhausting and all consuming it may be, I will be there for them while they want me there. And I will stand by other moms who want to make ‘controversial’ choices but are too afraid they are getting parenting ‘wrong’.

In my view, doctors are not there for parenting advice, they are there to help us navigate the murky waters of what is normal and what is not, in terms of basic functioning – how much crying is ok, what temperature is ok, how much poop is ok, and what color. They are there to offer medical advice and prescribe medicine when our children are ill, and to provide some support and reassurance. It is scary when my baby is writhing in pain, my bouncy boy is listlessly lying about, my little one’s temperature soars and will not come down. As the bearers of objective, scientific knowledge, I expect them to say, “he will be ok” or “give him these drops 4 times a day and you should see an improvement soon” or even “make sure you get some rest too; caring for a sick baby is taxing and you don’t want to get sick too.” I do not need to hear “there’s nothing we can do, it’s viral” – even if that is true, focus on things we can do to make the child and ourselves feel better, even if it’s advising daily walks outside or lots of fluids.My latest pet peeve is being told “if I had a magic medicine for this, I’d be rich!” It’s dismissive and not very kind. I do not need to hear, “it’s time to stop nursing him; it’s bad for his teeth”. I do not need to feel like I am wasting your time because I am concerned for my child’s wellbeing and comfort.

What happened to empathy, for the child and the anxious parents? What would be so wrong with some kind words and a glass of water for a tearful new mom? Would it be so hard to be punctual, and respect the time of the sick and weary? Why does it have to pneumonia before they do anything? And why not just give parents a little respect and encouragement? They should know it’s not easy and we are doing our best, even if it’s not by the textbook.

Of course, doctors are not all bad, and I am very thankful they are there when my kids are sick and miserable, even just to get another opinion, or the reassurance that they have been checked and will be ok. And to get antibiotics when everything seems to be infected. But some days I despair. Maybe it’s just time to find a new doctor…? And a support group for moms!

Every day I am more horrified by what is happening in this country. We live here because it is supposed to be a safer place to raise a family and it is supposed to offer more opportunities for all of us. Right now it feels like we live in a horror movie. I can’t believe that arguably the most sophisticated democracy in the western world is being hijacked by a single dictatorial egomaniac. Where are the checks and balances I was assured were in place? Why hasn’t he been disqualified due to conflicts of interest or outstanding lawsuits? How is he issuing one executive order after another, smirking smugly every time? Where are the branches of government that are supposed to prevent these outrageous laws from being passed?

At first I feared for my children because of the role model they would have at the head of their country, the only country that has ever  been their home. But now, it is much more than that. I fear for them because their gentle hearts have to witness the cruelty, discrimination, xenophobia and hatred that is spewing forth from our government. How are they supposed to make sense of a world in which their family and dearest friends are enemies of the state? In which there is no fair treatment of people, no kindness towards others? Especially when being fair is so important to them, and their family and schools teach kindness, respect and tolerance?

Thank goodness for the ordinary folk who are resisting.  For the people who will not accept the hateful things he is saying and doing. For the protestors who appear from every corner to march against his policies and proclamations, in  the streets, at the airports… For the pink hats everywhere. For my fellow Americans, whose families were all immigrants at some time, who will not be bullied. For those who believe this country to be the land of opportunity and freedom and who will not stand for its ideals and its constitution being defiled. I am so proud to stand among you and comforted to know that we are in this together. Thank you for showing me how much love and kindness human beings are capable of. Thank you for fighting back.

It is hard to know exactly what to do to show solidarity with the people of this country, and to help those most affected by the outrageous orders thus far… (Resistance is important, but hard! Petitions aren’t going to do it.) It is easy enough to make donations to ACLU or Planned Parenthood, but is that enough? And can they manage all the extra money that is pouring in and put it to good use? It is fairly easy to send an email or sign a petition too, but again, I wonder if this is enough? Marching is wonderful and very satisfying, and certainly sends a clear message, but is that enough? I haven’t yet figured out what else I can do. I find myself wishing I had a law degree or medical skills to provide practical help. But I don’t.

So what skills do I have that can be truly helpful, meaningful? I’m not sure yet. But I am coming to see that “it is the small every day deeds of ordinary folk that keep darkness at bay. Small acts of kindness and love” (Gandalf). I am beginning to see that being the best mom I can be, raising my boys to be kind, respectful, open-minded people, is already a lot. That reassuring the undocumented hispanic people in my life, that I stand with them, is already something. That being kind to people I don’t know, and respectful of the views and choices of friends, even when they differ from mine, already means something. There is a wonderful Women’s Day of Service coming up in Denver, which seems to be focused exactly on these kinds of acts of kindness (register here). I will do what I can. And I will keep looking for ways to fight back, and to be kind. Because it can’t happen here.

 So here we are on the eve of February. I have been trying to get things done and prepare myself for a new month, or new year, Chinese style, but there seems to be so much to do and I am a little overwhelmed. (Rather fitting that it is the year of the rooster – cock! – but that is another story.) And that is when I realize I am struggling to find my own voice, to connect with myself and my needs… I’ve been so busy with the day to day and attending to the next pressing task. There is always something – cooking, grocery shopping, spending time with kids, paying bills, dealing with repairs to the house, scheduling… Planning and booking vacations even feels burdensome when I’m navigating airfares and hotels, while trying to find places that we will all enjoy and won’t just feel like more work than just staying at home. Not to mention extra stuff like picking a school for my little guy or planning a birthday party for the big one; this stuff can feel like a full time job at times. In my head I know that many of these things are not that important, but somehow in the moment it keeps me so busy that I don’t get around to getting perspective.

And then I look up suddenly and wonder where I’ve gone. Writing has been an attempt to reconnect with myself and my voice, but there isn’t always time to write, or I find myself writing for other people, to help them or make them laugh. So now I am back to the ongoing job of trying to connect with me. With a family that has been sick all week, with fevers and coughs and floppy bodies, I woke up today and wanted nothing more than for someone to really hear and see me. I felt unappreciated, unsupported, overworked, exhausted. And that is when the little things unhinge me. Things like my husband disagreeing about how many eggs to cook this morning, or the children tossing used tissues on the floor. Suddenly I can’t take it another minute and start reading them all the riot act and telling them how it’s time to listen to me and thank me and be nice to me.

It generally doesn’t go so well when that happens. The boys gets defensive, teary, or defiant… and I feel guilty, angry, and alone. So here I am, grappling with how to handle all this better, how to get the support I need, and how to make sure I don’t neglect myself. I know I should speak up sooner, take better care of myself, make sure I get breaks from caring for everyone else… And yet, its very hard for me to do. I often just don’t realize I’m getting worn out until it’s too late. I feel so deeply responsible for the kids and so committed to caring for them when they are sick and clinging to mama. I stumble through the days, just doing the basics (washing sheets, giving medicine, sterilizing dishes, cooking broth for sick boys…), and don’t really stop to take stock. Writing does help, especially if I can use it to reflect on my day, and if I can be really honest with myself about how I feel or what’s on my mind. Talking to people helps too, good friends, family, other moms. And just getting out for air or a little break, is sometimes enough to help me connect with myself.

I confess, I got so worked up over the last week or so, that I lost sight of writing just for myself. I started thinking too much about others. This is a trap I often fall into. I need to remember to put on my own oxygen mask before helping others. I know what self care looks like, but putting into action is often my downfall. I’m starting by admitting that I’m overwhelmed and completely exhausted after everything the past week has thrown at me. I’m giving myself permission to feel this way. And I’m figuring out what to do next. Trying to make a list of all the things that I want to tackle is a major job in itself – from social action to home organization to making more time to exercise and getting everyone healthy again. At least working on the list is a pretty good start. And it is actually making me feel better. My sister always says, ‘how do you eat an elephant? one bite at a time’ and she is very wise.

I’ve decided that January is a terrible time for new year’s resolutions. There is too much to do!! January is when you pack away the Christmas and Hanukkah and other holiday decorations and get your house back to ‘normal’. It is when you find homes for all the new stuff you have acquired since Black Friday. It is when you try to find time to review your holiday card list and check it against all the cards you received, updating as you go, adding, deleting, sending embarrassed emails (still haven’t done this)… January is back to school month, whether you live in the northern or southern hemisphere. Either it is the start of a new school year, with all the requisite shopping and preparation, or it is time to go back to school after 2 or 3 weeks of skiing, or lounging on the beach, and it still requires shopping for clothes that fit, and getting mentally prepared. You may have to get over jetlag or airplane germs, or just take a few naps after staying up late too often over the holidays. (This is an issue for kids and parents, especially if said kids are up at 5am regardless of when they went to bed.) Or perhaps you have a child starting school for the first time and you have to read a lot of books and have a lot of reassuring chats at bedtime. If you have a child hoping to start school in the fall (northern hemisphere), January is the time to apply. It is also the time to book summer camps, make summer travel plans, and book camp sites if you want to go camping any time this year. (I haven’t done any of these yet, but I gather it is important!).

There is so much to do to get settled into a new year just trying to build a schedule that somehow works for all family members, accounts for school drop offs and pick ups, accommodates ‘mommy and me’ classes, and if you’re lucky, has a little room for you to go and exercise or meet a friend for coffee. And this is true whether you work outside the home or stay home with kids. Making this schedule is serious work and January is the time to do it. Don’t resolve to exercise 3 times a week (or even at all!) until you’ve given yourself time to put plans in place. I know you ate too much over the holidays, believe me, I’m right there with you, but you can’t bite off more than you can chew, so to speak. Without a schedule of what happens when, a map of the week, babysitters or other backups in place, and good bit of luck, you will never be able to stick your goals.

So, don’t be despondent if haven’t done as well as you’d hoped on your new years resolutions… You wanted to make more time for yourself this year, get regular facials, go to the gym, cook healthy meals, buy new dish towels so you can stop look at those frayed and stained ones every day… You’re right on track! You’ve given  your goals some thought, you’re getting new ideas as you clear away the holiday junk, and you probably have (some) kids back in school now (at least some of the time). So you are ready for the next step. Draw up that weekly plan with time for the kids, time for you (alone or with friends or at the gym or whatever), and time for your spouse. Once you now what that looks like, you can make sure you have the necessary backup – Dada takes kids for a few hours on Saturday morning, babysitter two mornings a week, carpool to school one day a week so you can go for a walk, grandma comes over one afternoon to play with kids and brings dinner (lucky you!!)… Whatever it looks like for you, make a plan, be sure to plan in some time away from your family, (this is very important for moms, especially if you are a new parent and care for an infant 24 hours a day!) and get ready for February.

For now, if there’s a gap to do something for yourself, by all means take it, but don’t beat yourself up if it’s not as often as you’d like. This is especially true in January, but really anytime. We are all doing our best to get through the days and take care of ourselves and our families. That already deserves a pat on the back! Consider this one from me to you. We’re all moms who are ordinary people – strong, wonderful, loving, kind, beautiful, amazing UNsuper women! We rock!

February is a great time to get started on  your plan. Valentine’s Day could also be good if you need a little more time. A day celebrating love is a great day to start something new, however small, to show yourself some love. And just think, the gyms will be emptier than in January, the dish towels will be on sale, and you can ask for a spa voucher for Valentine’s Day. Fired up and ready to go!

I’m filled with a feeling of gratitude after recent events. So many beautiful things have happened. So many acts of kindness and generosity and love. So much support and encouragement. For me personally, for my family, for humankind. I am filled with the beauty and power of everyone standing together. It is uplifting to see the light shining so brightly! So, thank you!

I want to thank the women who made me feel safe enough to go to the march, in spite of my fears. Thank you for watching out for me the whole time we were there and for the hugs and kind words. I want to thank everyone who marched alongside me in Denver – you were sweet and funny and warm, and your signs were punny and wise and inspiring. Thanks to the police who kept watch and cheered us on, to the volunteers and organizers, and the encouraging Uber driver who got us close as he possibly could and sent us off with well wishes. Thanks to those who marched in other cities around the world and kept it beautiful and classy – absolutely no violent incidents, property damage, or arrests as far as I know. I truly felt that we were all connected in our efforts and am delighted to know that so many of us share the same views. Thanks to those who kept the home fires burning and made it possible for those who went out to march for us all. Thanks for the supportive phone calls and conversations, the messages and hugs. For many of us it was a hard decision whether to step out or stay home – please let’s not shame or blame anyone for their decision; each choice took courage and every action is equally valid. This march is only one of many ways that we are standing up, making our voices heard, and refusing to be bullied. We are all fierce and strong in so many every day ways.

More personally, I also want to say thank you to all the wonderful people who made the birthday party we hosted over the weekend a wonderful success. Thanks to all who helped bake, draw, cut, stick, hang, chop, serve, and celebrate. And thank you to our thoughtful guests, who made the time to be here, to help clean up, to share a drink, to smile together. And who showed real care for the birthday boys through their presence and their presents. Every gift we opened was carefully chosen for the recipient, matching his personality, interests, hobbies. I was moved by all the thought and love that went into the choices. We were truly showered with affection and kindness; thank you all!

And finally, deep thanks for your support of me since I have embarked on this journey of writing and sharing every day thoughts and challenges. I strive to be honest and authentic (and a little bit funny), and sometimes it’s scary to share my feelings, but when I hear someone agree, or share their own version of the story, I feel comforted and less alone. Your support, encouragement, kind words, replies, commiseration, appreciation, and participation inspire me to keep going and to keep working to connect us as we bumble through the (sometimes very long) days, as mothers, women, people of the world. I love the community we are building and hope we can keep it going!

Thank you for walking with me.