Rainy Wedding Days

Last night, before turning out the light in the guest room of my brother's house, I pulled a slim white album off the corner bookshelf at the foot of the bed. I knew what the album contained before opening it. Some of the photos were familiar, but I marveled at how I found there were several which I seemed to be looking at as if for the first time.

They looked so young to me. I tried to imagine the emotions they must have been feeling on that day. Fear, excitement, joy, and a little anticipation for a new sort of freedom thrown in for good measure.

My dad, he stood so straight and proud. Decked out in his dress uniform. Short military haircut, boyish grin. His eyes sparkled with an obvious happiness.

My mom, a vision in her long-sleeved, poofy-shoulder white gown. With lace detail and tulle veil. Her eyes gazing nervously into her future.

At that moment, when they became husband and wife, I wonder if they stopped to think during all the buzz and exhilaration of the day. Did their future flash before their eyes?

Did they envision two kids and the single-family house with a white picket fence? Did they ever think, in their wildest dreams, that they’d eventually have a son-in-law and daughter-in-law who so perfectly fit their own daughter and son? Or that many years down the road they’d be the proud grandparents of four beautiful grandchildren ranging in ages from eight weeks to almost 5 - two boys and two girls?

I guess our family has a thing for keeping things in balance.

If my parents felt on their wedding day anything like I felt on mine, they experienced a roller coaster of emotions, tied together with a string of nerves. I just wanted everything to be perfect and so naturally, it rained. Not just a little sprinkle. No, actually, it was quite the opposite. The sky threatened to open up from the second we woke up that Saturday. But of course, it held off until that critical moment for every bride. Just as my dad and I were getting out of the limo to enter the church filled with our friends and family, rain fell from the sky in buckets.

The rain must have brought with it the good luck that everyone says a rainy day wedding brings. It also rained on my parent’s wedding day, forty-two years ago this October. For me, married for almost 10 years, I most certainly feel extremely lucky in love.

And I have a new-found appreciation for a rainy day.

"Love comforteth like sunshine after rain." - William Shakespeare

{It's been raining all day today, my last day here in Florida. It was a perfect day to write, with the melody of raindrops falling fast and furious as I type out and post what I wrote this morning. Tonight it's back home to Virginia, to my little family who I've missed so much these past 4 days.}

Song: Five Minute Friday {7}

In a few hours I’ll be leaving on a jet plane. Flying down south to meet a shiny new face, the newest, littlest member of our family who was born in March. I have yet to hear the song of her tiny cries, her coos and gurgles. I will say goodbye to my three lovies with kisses and hugs, breathing in their scent in an attempt to keep it with me while I’m gone.

For three nights, four days I’ll hear the song of my brother’s family, a newborn in the house, demanding the attention for bottles, diaper changes, snuggles. I can’t wait to hold her, to spend time just sitting and talking with my brother, sister-in-law, mom, dad, nephew. Because time slows down a little when I’m on vacation, listening to the song of my sweet family which I’ll wrap around me until I have to say goodbye on Monday.

When I’ll return to the familiar song of my own family, waiting patiently for my return.

A Life I Love: Blogging for Mental Health

Sometimes it’s hard to come to terms with the reality of what life has thrown at me. Why me?

Sometimes it’s beyond scary to admit that I’m struggling. I feel so alone.

Sometimes I fear that my friends will turn their back on me if they know the whole truth. How am I going to share everything?

Sometimes it’s terrifying to look back at what happened in the past because of what could have been. I’ve changed so much in such a short amount of time.

Sometimes I look around at all I have, the decisions I’ve made, how far I’ve come and I am in complete awe of my life’s fullness. How did I get so lucky?

On days like today, when the sun is so far lost behind the piles of sheer white and grey clouds, I find myself wrestling with my emotions. On days like today it’s so easy to remember if I let myself go there. The dark days, the weeks and weeks of bleak, dull depression that had wrapped its claws around me like a cat that caught a field mouse. The not being able to pull myself out of bed in the morning and the falling asleep on the couch in the late afternoon because it was so much easier to dwell in my grief than it was to push it aside to try to function normally. I haven’t felt that heaviness, the crushing weight of desperation, in seven years.

And for that I have so much gratitude.

But on days like today, twinges of it come back. And I don’t push them away. I let them come and I let myself acknowledge them, if only for a moment. Because I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to ever forget what I’m fighting for every day.

My mental health.

Not only for myself. But for my family. For my incredibly laid-back, fun-loving, funny, intelligent and handsome husband. The one who was by my side from the first day it all hit to the present. He is my better half and has all the qualities that I lack which is why we fit each other so well.

Together we completed our family with first a boy, and then a girl. Two little people who everyone says look just like us. I couldn’t be more proud of them, of their personalities which shine and twinkle like the stars in a deep black clear summer night sky. Each night, as we read stories before bed and snuggle in close, and every morning, when I nuzzle their still-sleepy noses to wake up so we can start our day, I take time to breathe in their scents. It’s hard to believe that they’re mine. I will always be their mom. He will always be my son. She will always be my daughter. And I want them to always be proud of me.

My life is the reason why I keep fighting. My family, my friends, my heart. They all deserve to see me succeed.

Each day may be a new battle, but every one I win makes me stronger for the next fight. At the end of the day, when the sun is setting and I see the brilliance peeking out from behind a mess of clouds, I know I’m staring into my future.

And I’m nothing but enthusiastic for what lies ahead.

Maternal Mental Health Month

In May 2011, Postpartum Support International (PSI) declared May as Maternal Mental Health Awareness Month. Over the past few weeks I've been busy writing some pieces in support of the efforts to raise awareness of women's mental health before, during and after pregnancy. Two were published recently and I'm proud to share them with you.

Yesterday was the 5th annual Mother's Day Rally for Moms' Mental Health, hosted by Postpartum Progress, the most widely-read blog in the world on postpartum depression and other mental illnesses related to pregnancy and childbirth. It featured 24 letters (one of them was mine!) from survivors of PPD, postpartum anxiety, postpartum OCD, depression after weaning and/or postpartum psychosis. Their purpose is to inform and encourage pregnant and new moms who may be struggling with their emotional health. I was honored to be included again this year.

Along those same lines of postpartum and mental health, today a piece I wrote for WhatToExpect.com’s Word of Mom blog went live. (Yes, that’s really me in the picture included in the post!) In it I describe the feelings of guilt and sadness I experienced when I had to quit breastfeeding because I needed to return to my medication. I've learned that no mom should put unnecessary pressure on herself to breastfeed, especially if her mental health is at risk.

I hope you have a chance to check out these posts and please share if you know someone who might benefit from the information within. Thanks so much and I hope all those moms out there had a great Mother's Day yesterday!

My story on It's All In Her Head

A few months ago I attended the Wild Mountain Memoir Retreat in Leavenworth, Washington. It was my second writer's conference, but that didn't make me any more confident in my writing ability. I was going for the sole purpose of learning the best way to go about writing a memoir. I needed advice on structure, voice, publishing, and most of all, I wanted to learn the secrets to becoming a better writer.

I had no idea that I would leave Wild Mountain more inspired, more motivated and more excited about my writing than ever before.

But those weren't even the best things that came out of the retreat.

I met intelligent, forward-thinking, fun-loving, witty writers who I feel incredibly fortunate to know now, to be able to call them friends. Real life friends. Their friendships were by far the greatest take-away I could have ever asked to receive through spending a long weekend surrounded by nature in all its glory.

I learned a TON at Wild Mountain, and it took me what felt like a month to digest it all. I got home and began to work on applying what I had learned. I reached out to my new writer friends for editorial guidance and encouragement. I came out of the closet about my illness. It felt liberating, not having to hide anymore.

I was encouraged by several people from Wild Mountain, to submit to an online anthology being created by the wife of one of the instructors. I was intrigued. After reading what it was all about, I was pumped to contribute. I was positive I wanted to be a part of her project.  The hardest part was finding time to write it all out. I knew my piece would be long and I had a hard time figuring out what to keep and what to cut, while still showcasing in detail what I went through when I was diagnosed and how I was able to pull through the sadness and intense anxiety over my illness to get to where I am today.

It took longer than I anticipated, and I kept emailing Laura to tell her I needed just “one more day” which she always granted me graciously. I’m so pleased with how it turned out and it’s my hope that it sheds some light on what it’s like to be hit with a mental illness out of nowhere. To live a year of your life in darkness, not able to care about the next day because this day is too heavy to carry. To keep fighting until one day you realize that everything is okay. That today isn’t scary anymore because of all the tools and resources you’ve accumulated over the years. The tools and resources which help to keep you healthy and alive and enthusiastic about the future.

That’s where I am right now. I know that there will be plenty of waves ahead of me in life. I just feel as though I’ve finally realized that I can surf.

My piece went live this morning on It's All In Her Head. If you have a chance to read it, I’d love to hear your feedback. And if you know someone who might be inspired by reading this piece, please share. Thanks so much and Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there!

Comfort: Five Minute Friday {6}

COMFORT

Back then, newly sick and with the fear of a mental illness diagnosis looming over my head, there were few things that brought me comfort.

One that was the most strong was her love

and her continued fight

to get me back to well.

There were so many tears back then. But we were able to smile when we were together for pictures, even if it sometimes felt forced. Behind the smiles there was silent suffering.

No matter what, she never stopped trying to comfort me. To ease my pain. To take the hurt away from her baby, her firstborn.

She will always bring me comfort in times of sadness. She’s my mom.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom.

I love you with all my heart.

xoxoxo

This Is How Big My Brave Is

Something incredible happened to me on Friday. I linked up with one of my favorite writers online, Lisa-Jo Baker, and her Five Minute Friday writing flash mob. The stars must have aligned for me the night before. Because her prompt last week couldn't have been more perfect for what I was hoping to write about that morning: how my friend Natalie survived a suicide attempt a year ago and so bravely chose to live her life and tell her story to help others. It was through Lisa-Jo's post that I was introduced to the brilliant new single by Sara Bareilles, Brave:

http://youtu.be/xwTr_CRw3GY

I chatted with Natalie via Facetime on Friday morning and told her how awesome the song was, how excited I was that I got to write on the word Brave for my post, and how perfectly fitting it was to use as a dovetail into her own blog posts this weekend describing what she's gone through over this past year.  We couldn't have asked for a better anthem for Nat's Alive Day Anniversary weekend.

She went skydiving on Saturday. Talk about brave!! So proud of you, Natalie. Keep it up, girl. You're inspiring more people than you'll ever know.

I downloaded Brave to my ipad mini and had it on repeat basically all weekend. Besides making me wish I had been a part of the music video, it also made me want to take action. The lyrics will do that to you. Trust me.

So I spoke up.

@sarabareilles I'm in LOVE with your new song. This is how big my brave is: wp.me/p1L3an-ij #bipolar #IamBraveEnough

— BipolarMom (Jenn) (@BipolarMomLife) May 3, 2013

It was a shortlink to my post about deciding to come out and write openly about the fact that I'm living with bipolar disorder.

And then this happened:

You may be squinting right now since my screenshot is so small. So I'll just tell you.

Sara Bareilles re-tweeted my tweet to her 2,749,330 followers.

I may have let out a little "WHOOOOOOO!!!!" loud enough for our entire neighborhood to hear.

I was so flattered that she cared enough to share my tweet. She believed in my brave. Enough to share it with all. of. her. 2.7+ million fans.

And I thought that was pretty cool.

My household now has this song memorized, and I love that the kids have fun watching the video with me. We play it loud and sing along while dancing around the kitchen. I thought it was an appropriate time to share this post I wrote to them last year, which I edited a bit to use as my Listen To Your Mother audition piece in February.

~~~~~

Dear Mister Man and Sweet Pea,

I've been thinking about writing a letter like this to you two for a while now. These past four years with the two of you in our life, have been the best (and most challenging) years your Daddy and I have ever experienced. They have not passed without some terrifying ups and downs. When I say “ups," I really mean mania. My year-long battle with depression was won before you both were born.

You see, your mommy has Bipolar Disorder.

It’s something I probably won’t explain to you until you are much older. You don’t see me take my medication every night, but you have been with me to see my psychiatrist. You both love the special toy box she brings out to keep you occupied while we talk, and now when I tell you “Mommy has to go see her doctor,” you always ask if you'll get to play with her superheros. Last time I had to go “to the doctor” it was my gynecologist and she only had a plastic uterus to play with. Wasn’t as fun, was it?

Right now my illness is hidden from you, but there are times it creeps out. I may yell a little too loud, or in a nasty way with a scowl on my face. Maybe it’s just part of being a little worn out from the whole Stay-At-Home-Mom thing, juggling the demands of running a busy household, but I also believe that my occasional outbursts have something to do with my condition. My patience is so thin you could poke a hole through it with a feather. Not all the times, but sometimes.

Your Daddy and I have worked so hard together to manage this thing though. We’re beating it, he and I. We’re doing it together. He tolerates my moods and hugs and holds me when I need the extra love. And I know that the only way I stay balanced is by taking my meds, seeing my doctor and therapist, eating right, exercising regularly and most importantly, getting enough sleep. The occasional bubble bath doesn't hurt either.

Whenever I do have one of my moments, I immediately feel full of regret. I wish I could go back to re-do what happened so that I could handle the situation differently, more lovingly. But I guess that’s kind of what parenting is all about; learning from our mistakes and doing things better next time. I'm always trying to do better, my loves.

It's true, sometimes I fear that one (or both) of you could inherit my condition. If either of you end up fighting my fight, your Daddy and I know we’ll survive. In fact, we’ll do better than survive. In the years since I’ve been diagnosed I have built up a library of my personal notes and records of my treatments: things that worked and didn’t work for me. We’ll beat it because we have so many tools and resources to turn to in order to get you back to healthy. So my loves I tell you this: don’t worry your little hearts. Having a mental illness is not the end of the world. In fact, it just means you see the world differently than other people do. In some ways that isn’t always a bad thing. Some great artists have Bipolar Disorder. It brings out your creative side.

Regardless of what your future holds, please know that you both have made our family so much richer, even in the midst of learning to cope with something as complicated and intense and draining as a mental illness. I am so incredibly thankful that your Daddy and I took the leap we did to start our family. Looking at your precious smiles today, I couldn’t imagine life any other way.

Someday, when the time is right, we’ll have the talk. It’s hard for me to imagine that point in the future. I worry about how my revelation of my illness may affect you. Will it make you sad? Will you feel hurt that I waited to tell you? Will you be upset that I kept a blog about living with a mental illness in which I wrote about you? I guess I won’t know until we get there, but my hope is that someday when you’re old enough and we do talk about it, you’ll listen with open hearts.

I hope you’ll tell me that you’re proud of me. That you’re proud of me for not being ashamed of having Bipolar Disorder. That you’re proud of me for telling my story to help other people. That you’re proud of me for trying my hardest at being the best mom I could be.

Because I finally am brave enough to say: I have Bipolar and I am not perfect, but I am perfectly your mom. I hope someday when I tell you this, I see you both smiling back at me with pride.

I love you both to the moon and back.

xoxoxo

Mommy

~~~~~

"Maybe one of these days you can let the light in Show me how big your brave is"

~Sara Bareilles

I have a feeling that this song will become a huge catalyst for not only the fight against teenage bullying, but also the battle to end the stigma surrounding mental illness. Please share. Everyone deserves their own chance to be brave.

Brave: Five Minute Friday {5}

BRAVE

The choice to end life. To stop living. To not go on any longer because fighting is too hard, it's exhausting, and giving up would be so much easier.

The plan was made. Actions carried out.

The sand was slipping swiftly through the hourglass of life. Time was literally running out.

Then, suddenly, something awoke within her. She called out for help. And her cry for help was answered.

Natalie made the choice to be brave.

Now, she is telling her truth. I am watching her exude brave.

And I am so very proud of my friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sunday, May 5th is her Live Day anniversary. I am running a 5k to recognize and celebrate her decision to choose life. In honor of Natalie's battle to overcome suicide, I am walking The American Federation for Suicide Prevention's Overnight Walk, June 1st-2nd.

Please visit Natalie's blog, ItWillNeverHappen2Me.com, to read her story of what took place a year ago this weekend.

My husband, our chef

Saturday morning we were all anticipating my husband's arrival home, as he had been away all week on a business trip in Austin, Texas. It had been a long, draining five days of doing ALL THE THINGS by myself and I was tired. The kids couldn't wait to see their Daddy, especially our son who was anxiously wondering whether his father was going to be bringing him home the Lego City Police Station, a toy carrot he had dangled to ensure good behavior for Mommy. {It really came from his Grandma, but she wanted us to say it was from Daddy and we didn't object.} It worked like a charm. Or maybe that was because I continuously reminded him of the reward he would receive for said good behavior. Hey, I never said I was above bribes.

Swim class that morning was the last hurdle I had to jump over with the two kiddos before I could breathe easy knowing my better half would be home two hours later. And it wasn't even that bad since baby girl wasn't feeling well that meant I didn't have to attend her class with her, giving us both the luxury to sit on the bench and relax, watching her brother splash and float during his lesson.

Home again, I made lunch and the kids ate and then it was time for naps and quiet time. I wanted myself to curl up and take a quick snooze before my husband got home, but instead I began the process of tidying up the house {aka dusting, vacuuming, and re-arranging our masses of clutter} since we were having friends over for dinner later that evening.

A few hours later and all was well in our world. I had raced to the store and back for fresh ingredients, while the kids got to fill their father in on all their adventures during the time he was away. Lots of hugs were exchanged and plenty of snuggles for baby girl who was feeling the unpleasant effects of the massive amount of pollen in the springtime air. Our little man talked his dad into building the two vehicles that came with his Lego police station, so as to appease him until the next day when they could spend a few hours putting the entire set together. Our daughter had fun dressing and re-dressing her Melissa & Doug ballerina magnet doll. {Another new toy from their Grandma. She loves to spoil her grandkids and we let her.}

Then my husband got to work in the kitchen, preparing the meal for the evening once our guests had arrived. It was so nice to see our friends who live close, but not close enough that impromptu visits are easy and frequent. Instead, we have to plan a few months ahead and then pray that kids stay healthy so that we can keep the date. It worked out this time since allergies were the culprit behind our little girl's scratchy throat and sneezy, drippy nose. The kids easily connected around the water table and played together happily as we adults caught up over appetizers and drinks.

I love watching my man cooking dinner. He is very methodical in how he approaches the tasks of the recipe, which he usually follows to a perfect T each and every time. This time we were trying out a new dish, Lemon Garlic Scallops with Rustic Farro Risotto, from my friend's food blog, with asparagus on the grill to accompany it. I try not to impede on the way he moves about the kitchen, but of course I find myself critiquing and offering suggestions on how he should be searing or grilling or stirring, when I really should just keep my mouth shut because his food always comes out delicious.

I know how lucky I am to have an amateur chef as a husband. I've finally come to realize this after almost ten years of marriage. He generally does all the cooking in our house, because every so often when I do try my hand at putting a meal together, nine times out of ten it turns out terrible. Sometimes worse than terrible. I get mad, curse myself for the wasted time and effort, and my pride suffers. Then I swear I'm never cooking another meal for him again because whenever I do, he turns his nose up at it. {This is because it is terrible, remember, so I really can't blame him.} But over the years I have slowly accepted the fact that he's simply better at cooking than I am and I should embrace it rather than try to compete with it.

So with that, I present to you: my husband the chef.

And now, please excuse me while I go pin some new recipes for him to try.

I love you, honey. Thank you for feeding our family with love.

"Cooking today is a young man's game. I don't give a bollocks what anyone says." ~ Gordon Ramsay

10:35pm - Edited to add:

When Ben got home tonight, I asked him read my post, as I usually do on the days that I publish. Reading over his shoulder as he scrolled through the post, I noticed that I had forgotten something very important when writing this piece.

When I first became sick at the end of 2005, I struggled with eating a great deal in 2006. From the mix of medications I was on to the raging anxiety that had taken over my body, sitting down to enjoy a meal three times a day was a distant memory from my past. Some days I was nauseous from the moment I woke up until I crawled into bed at the end of the night. I lost about 12 pounds, which may not sound like all that much, but for someone who is only 5 feet, 2 inches tall, it's a big deal. I remember looking back at pictures from that summer and my cheeks were sunk inward on my formerly chubby face, my arms seemed like pencils they were so thin. But my loving husband did not give up on me. He tried new recipes he thought I might like, went back to some of our old favorites from college when he used to cook to impress me while we were courting, and kept me smiling with his extravagant baking to appeal to my sweet tooth {and in the hope that I'd consume some calories, even if they were all sugar}.

Anyone who has ever been clinically depressed knows what I mean when I say it was impossible to eat at times. My appetite was squashed by my diagnosis and meds, and my formerly sunny, outgoing personality had also been beaten up pretty badly. If my husband wasn't there by my side, encouraging me to keep trying, taking me on dates to our favorite Indian restaurant at least once a week, I may have lost more than the weight I did that year. I may have lost my power to fight the illness that had knocked me down.

I am forever grateful to my better half, for not only sticking with me, but for feeding me when I needed fed. He fed me with his love, his optimism, and his incredible culinary skills.

I love you with all my heart, honey.

xoxoxo

Happify yourself!

I attended Listen To Your Mother DC yesterday and it was another incredible show. At the after-party, I met up with several cast members from last year's show, as well as had the opportunity to meet some of this year's lineup. It was really fun to get to know such intricate, intelligent writers. The stories from the show were so moving, funny, and touching, it was an honor to be in the audience listening {and drying an eye from time to time}. As we chatted over a carafe of yummy sangria, the conversation turned to blogging and I ironically found myself mentioning how I don't really enjoy reading blog posts when the writer is reviewing a product.

And here I am writing my own. Funny how things come around, right?

I like to think this is a little different though, in that I wasn't provided a bunch of free loot in exchange for writing a review on my blog. I wasn't given anything, in fact, except this cute little button to add to my blog. I simply happen to enjoy this site and wanted to share it with my readers. I believe it has an especially positive impact on folks like me who live with some form of depression {or have struggled with it in the past}, because they may experience psychological benefits from participating and learning the science behind what creates our happiness.

{I am not a doctor, by any means. I have though, read about the positive adjustments we can make to our moods by learning and then doing the activities that make us happy. I very much believe in the science of happiness, and therefore, I believe in Happify. Please, read on to find out why.}

Several months ago I was contacted by one of the Co-Founders of Happify via Twitter and was asked whether I'd like to join on as a Pioneer. Happify is a NYC-based company with a vision of bringing the science of happiness to mass market in an entirely new kind of way. They created an exciting new social network product which uses media, interactive activities and games, as well as social connections and comment features which allow users to form daily happiness habits while at the same time "meeting" other like-minded happiness seekers. I was curious. My issue was with the number of social networks which I was already using: Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Vine, and Instagram. I can barely keep up with them all as it is, and wasn't sure I wanted to add another one into the mix.

But who wouldn't want to learn more about how to increase their level of happiness each day while enjoying a little break from our everyday reality? Sounded like a Win-Win.

So I signed up and immediately jumped into the site to set up my profile and get started. It's very user-friendly and you determine how you will make the most out of the product, as you choose which "Happiness Track" to develop that set of happiness skills for specific life situations. You can switch between tracks if you get bored, and when you finish one you earn medals to show your progress in that happiness area. Members of the community are able to "Like" each other's posts and comment back and forth, creating a wonderful sense of community of like-minded individuals.

I admit, it's a bit of a challenge to stay immersed in another social media outlet, but it's one that I enjoy and feel as though I'm benefiting from the time investment I've been putting into it (about 5-10 minutes a day, a few times a week). By participating in the Happify community, I find that I'm stopping to notice the little moments of happiness in my life more often, I'm seeking out activities in my real life that boost my happiness, and I'm able to adjust my outlook on life daily in general in order to allow happiness to rise to the top more often.

I'm noticing that I'd rather spend time on Happify versus Facebook, and I like this trend.

Anywho, if you're interested in checking out Happify, they've provided me with a link so that my readers could sign up to try it out: www.happify.com.

Give it a try! I think you'll find that you're increasing your happiness with each click. Hope you love it as much as I do.

Disclaimer: I was not provided any products or gifts for writing this review. The opinions expressed are my own and have not been influenced in any way. 

Friend: Five Minute Friday {4}

What I love about my life is that I have many different types of friends surrounding me with love. Whenever life throws me a curve ball, or things are perfectly boring, or I just need to try something outside of my comfort zone to mix things up a bit because I've been feeling a little dull, I just reach out to a friend to reconnect and nourish my soul.

She makes me smile over coffee.

She lets me cry if I need a release.

She hugs me when we say goodbye.

I would be lost without my friends. They each hold a piece of my fragile heart in their hands and I hope they feel the same about me.

Because life is so much better with a friend to walk with.

Been busy living life

It's been a busy week of playdates with neighbor friends, school and a wonderfully positive parent-teacher conference which made me so happy, bubble baths in Mommy's big tub before bed, visits from Grandma and Aunt Hillary, and basically, just LIFE. The weather is getting warmer and we're looking forward to enjoying the end of spring and beginning of summer. I'm working on a long piece for a submission to an online anthology, so that's been taking up the bulk of my writing time once the kiddos are asleep. I just didn't want this week to go by without a post.

Life is good.