Mother’s Day Is Complicated

I’m in bed right now. My kids (with the charge led by my 12-year-old) wanted to bring me breakfast in bed for Mother’s Day. They made apple cheddar biscuits and pancakes. And though I heard a lot of squabbling while the food assembly was going on, they were quite proud of themselves when they brought me the results. Then all three kids brought up (unexpectedly) brought up their own plates of food and ate in bed with me — while I prayed that nothing would spill on the comforter.

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We Will Be Ok

Earlier this week, we watched part of President Biden’s State of the Union speech. I say “part” because the start time was 8:00 p.m. Since I wake up before 4:00 a.m. most days, that’s around my bedtime. Yet I wanted to hear what Biden had to say about the attack on Ukraine. My husband, 12-year-old, and 9-year-old gathered with me to watch.

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A Quiet Day

When devastating things are happening in the world, I usually do one of two things.

I’ll sometimes fixate on the news, moving quickly from one source to another. My brain is trying to piece reality together by gathering information. Sometimes I rely on experts who have far more information and can explain what I don’t understand. Other times, I’ll listen to stories from people, synchronizing my own emotions with theirs.

Or I’ll shut down. I’ll turn everything off. It’s just too much.

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