Posts Tagged With: hope

be wise, and always be kind

Posted on January 23, 2023 by robynbird

In 2008 Neil Gaiman wrote

I hope you will have a wonderful year, that you’ll dream dangerously and outrageously, that you’ll make something that didn’t exist before you made it, that you will be loved and that you will be liked, and that you will have people to love and to like in return. And, most importantly (because I think there should be more kindness and more wisdom in the world right now), that you will, when you need to be, be wise, and that you will always be kind.

I love the nouns he chose: hope – dream – make – love – like – wisdom – kindness
(though he uses the majority in their action form)
I love the adverbs he chose: dangerously – outrageously
I love his choice of the adjective wonderful

We’re four weeks into this new year and I’m holding these words close to my heart. I’m grateful for these words, they’re words I’d say to the people I love if I was as clever with words as Neil is. They’re words I’d say to myself. The self I currently am, and my little girl self.
These words are offered up to the collective you out there as well as the individual you.

I’m keen to dream and make and love this year. I’m ready to, when I can, be wise and (hopefully) always be kind.
I’m eager to encourage the same for all y’all.

I’m choosing to embrace this new year with eyes, heart, and arms wide open. I love the way that feels.

Hope is a powerful word. A powerful thought, a powerful feeling.
Encouragement to dream and create is powerful.
Wisdom and kindness are powerful.
Love is powerful.
What could be more dangerously, outrageously, wonderfully powerful than offering up hope for someone’s coming year?

Categories: me | Tags: dream, feels, grateful, gratitude, hope, kindness, love, Neil Gaiman, new beginnings, new year, thoughts, welcome home, wisdom | 2 Comments

another member joins the adult orphan club

Posted on September 5, 2022 by robynbird

The last couple of weeks have been chaos for our family.
Husband N’s mother died unexpectedly two weeks ago Saturday.
My daughter, her husband, and their daughter were heartbroken.
YBW and I were heartbroken.
I can’t tell you how precious a woman she was or how much she will be missed.
Husband N lost his dad in the mid aughts so he’s recently joined the terrible club of adult orphans.

He’s and only child with an enormous extended family.
Fortunately, the majority of this extended family was able to help and support him as he figured out what he needed to do.
He came to YBW and me for emotional support and guidance.
He and Thing 1 came to YBW and me for practical support and childcare.

My hear hurts for my son in law who lost his own momma. For my daughter who lost a truly wonderful mother in law. For Baby K who lost her Nana.

I could not have asked for a better (other) grandmother with whom to share my granddaughter. Nana was as kind and loving a woman as you’d ever want to meet. She had a childlike sense of joy and saw the good in everyone. She was always eager to share time, stories, photos, and love between herself, Baby K, and me. She never behaved as though she felt a way about Baby K spending more time with us. Even when we were all together and Baby K would sort of default to me and I would encourage her to ask or show or tell or whatever Nana, she never had her feelings hurt.
She was simply joyful to be all together.

I’m grateful my daughter had a mother in law who loved her so completely, who became another momma to her. I’m grateful Baby K had a Nana who loved her so completely. Who was eager and willing to share the grandmother spotlight with such an open heart.

I hope I can provide that same sort of love for Husband N. I’ll never be his Momma, but I can be another momma for him. One that loves him so completely he feels comforted in his loss.

Y’all, my family is hurting.
But we’re figuring it out together.
We have memories and share stories.
We have laughter and tears.
Mostly we have love.

I’d be so grateful if you’d be willing to hold my daughter’s family in your hearts as they find their way grieving, handling the business of death, and adapting to this new way of being.

Categories: death, loss | Tags: all the feels, business of death, death, family, grateful, gratitude, grief, grieving, healing, hope, hopeful, loss, love, peace, support, supportive family | 2 Comments

time to begin again

Posted on January 3, 2021 by robynbird

In a post on this same day last year, I wrote:

As I shift my focus to what’s ahead in 2020, I’m excited to see what the year brings. Interestingly enough, I find myself open to whatever comes with a surprising lack of expectations. (That’s today, be sure to check back to see how that changes.)
To be perfectly honest, I find it absolutely freeing!
No real expectations. What might that look like?

When I expressed my lack of expectations in regards to the coming year I could never have known what 2020 would bring.
And what it brought was a combination of horror and blessing.

The biggest part of me feels comfortable knowing I went into this ineffable year open to whatever would come. Especially when I consider what came.
From the first news of covid to the executive order from our governor designed to keep us all safe.
From the joy of teaching in the winter to the longest school break in my lifetime.
From the grief of all we lost to the opportunities being at home presented us.
From feeling lost and wandering the desert to that sparkle of hope the new year brings.

Disappointments loomed large.
I didn’t get into the grad school program.
Welcome to Night Vale Live postponed twice before finally canceled.
Not going to school.
Not seeing friends and family.
Not leaving the house.

Opportunities presented themselves.
I was able to begin and finish the Great and Arduous Process and share the photos and stories of our life with family and friends.
I purged and organized my closet and dresser.
I cleaned and sorted and organized anything that sat still long enough for me to touch it.
I went to Thing 1’s to ease my soul but the bonus was I helped her pack her house.
I met Thing 2’s precious new young man, Boyfriend M.
YBW and I went to Georgia and helped bring our daughter and her family home to our house.
YBW and I started the process of building our new home.

Change is tricky.
Sometimes good, sometimes simply inevitable.
Thing G left our home for the home of his mother.
Thing 1, Husband N, Baby K, and three dogs in our otherwise quiet home.
Living through the bathroom construction.
The concept of leaving this house for a new one.
The planning and packing and prepping for a move.

Joy is here. Sometimes shining brightly, sometimes partially hidden.
I am filled with gratitude.

I’m grateful the people I love are safe and healthy.
I’m grateful we’re financially stable, that we have a roof over our heads and food in the larder.
I’m grateful for what I learned about myself this year. And for what I learned about the people around me.
I’m grateful that I was a mood.
I’m grateful that I had opportunities.
I’m grateful for my growth. For learning more about myself. For realizing how strong and resilient I actually am.
I’m grateful that Baby K is in my house every single day. (~~Even~~ Especially when she’s feisty AF.)
I’m grateful for this time with my daughter. I never expected either of us would choose to celebrate cohabitating, yet here we are. And sure, there are good and bad days, but we’re truly enjoying each other.
I’m grateful for YBW. For his love. For his sense of humor. For his kindness. For his ability to get under my skin. For his dream of a new home that sparked such lovely anticipation.
I’m grateful I chose to greet 2020 in this way:

I’m smart enough to know better than to ask 2020 to ‘bring it!”.
But feel completely comfortable saying, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Because I have hope.
Because I am of open of mind and heart.
And let’s be real, that’s the best way to walk into anything.

I find myself feeling hopeful about walking into 2021.
It’s so much more than that feeling of living though the nightmare of 2020 and imagining the coming year to be easier. It’s more a feeling of curiosity. A feeling of anticipation.
*Something’s Coming plays quietly in the background*

Am I tempting the Fates?
I think not.
Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos have their hands full, they haven’t the time to consider me and my point of view.

My wish for all y’all as you move into the new year is you have love and hope in your pocket, you feel curious and of open mind and heart, you realize your own power and find good use for it.
It’s time to begin again.

Categories: me | Tags: anticipation, be opened, expectations, faith, hope, ineffable, life, live the life you love, love, new beginnings, new year, open your heart | 4 Comments

this is the Christmas of my childhood

Posted on December 23, 2020 by robynbird

In the process of preparing to move, I went through my little two drawer file cabinet. Wedged into the very back of a file folder was a small stack of recipes.
These recipes are older than I am.
I set these particular recipes aside, put them in a safe place.
You know how that goes…
Meanwhile, Thing 1 has patiently waited for nearly five years for me to present her with the apple butter recipe. This recipe came from the next door neighbor, and is in her handwriting.
My mom made this apple butter as long as I can remember. Thing 1 loved when her Grandmommy would make it for her when she was a little girl. I think this might be her ‘golden ticket’ recipe.

It feels serendipitous that I came across these as we were coming into this time of year.
Advent is sacred to me. This most anticipatory time of year. When we’re enveloped in the spirit of Christmas, filled with love and hope and light.
Having these recipes in my hand at this time of year is perfect because they are absolutely the Christmas of my childhood.

My grandmother added her thoughts to the recipes she wrote out, and in the upper left corner you can see the words: Good Toots Recipe!
‘Toots’ is the pet name my grandparents had for their beloved and longtime friend. Grandaddy always called her Toots, but to me, she was ‘Little Grandma’ because she was small of build.

Little Grandma made these gingerbread men every single year. They were, and remain my very favorite cookie. They always had red hots as eyes, and hard silver dragées as buttons. They snapped in the most perfect way, and had the spiciest ginger flavor.
She only made them at Christmastime.
In the years since Little Grandma’s been gone, I’ve eaten many gingerbread men. Some disappointing ones. Some damn fine ones. But none as delicious as the ones she made.

I’ve been saying to my own baking guru Thing 1, I want to make Little Grandma’s gingerbread men. This is my childhood, I say.

Then I stop for a moment and I think, this is my childhood, and realize I’m actually hesitant to bake from this recipe.
How much of my love for these cookies is directly linked to loving Little Grandma? How much of my love for these cookies is about being excited to spend time with her in her little craftsman house in Clarendon? How much of my love for these cookies is about nostalgia?
Are they actually as delicious as I remember?
Can I just go to World Market and buy some Nyakers Swedish gingerbread men and be content?
Will Thing 1 and I bake these cookies and break my heart?
Will one of the last precious things from my childhood be broken?

That’s my fear talking. My anxiety. My sadness.
I’m sad that I’m the only one who knows what I’m talking about when I remember. I’m sad my sacred and precious Christmas tradition memories are foreign to my daughters, to my husband.
I’m fearful that I’ll ruin those memories by trying to recreate them.

I have to stop and breathe.
I have to be more mindful.
Perhaps it isn’t about recreating as much as it is creating something new from something sacred.
After all, Christmas is about hope.

Categories: me | Tags: advent, Christmas, Christmas baking, Christmas is about hope, Christmas spirit, family traditions, favorite holiday, food, hope, joy, light, love | Leave a comment

feeling hopeful at the end of the second month

Posted on September 30, 2020 by robynbird

I’m beginning to feel more at home in my own skin.
In my own home.

The first year of teaching is often called survival year.
The first year of anything could probably be called survival year.
This is the end of the second month.
End. Of. The. Second. Month.
Of a survival year.
During a global pandemic.

All the changes came so hard and fast. And came during the strangest possible time.
Pandemic kept us cooped up for safety. And just when that started to feel unbearable, three more people and three dogs joined this household.
Initially it was exciting and new.
Then it was all about getting settled.
Then simple logistics of cohabitating.
How do we make this work? Two small families creating one big family…how can we be both?

Expectations are being ironed out.
Anybody else hear Hamilton in their head?

“I’m past patiently waitin’. I’m passionately mashin’ every expectation. Every action’s an act of creation.”

Just me? OK…
Anyway, we’re beginning to managing expectations. We’re learning how to navigate each other’s personal language. We’re asking what did that mean when you/she/he said that? We’re figuring out how to cohabitate successfully.

I’m used to being alone the majority of my time.
Now I’m never alone.
My daughter is used to being in charge of her own environment.
Now her environment is not her own.
YBW continues his routine of going to work each day.
Now he supports more people.
Husband N is becoming more and more anxious about finding a job.
YBW and I agree he needs gainful employment, we want him to make the best possible choice instead of taking any job because it’s a job.
Baby K alternates between being so delightful it nearly kills us, and being a tiny terrorist demon bent on destruction. (as a toddler do)

And doesn’t even include the chaos of construction in the house.
YBW and I have no access to our own bathroom. And trying to make due with the bare minimum in the hall bathroom is taking it’s toll on me.
I know I’m feeling the stress.
I am acutely aware everybody experiences me feeling the stress.
I do my best to make sure to explain myself and/or apologize if I’m irritable or querulous. (more than normal)

It’s simply too much all at once and my adaption rate is lagging.
To combat this, I am actively carving out time for myself.
I’m reading again. That simple act sparked a change in me. Shifted me from the back of my brain back to the front. My brain moved out of survival mode and into all the good stuff.
I’m so much better off for it. (so is everyone else)
I’m engaged in a mindful way, not simply navigating fight or flight.
I will work as hard as I can to remain here in this healthy brain space.

I will learn to balance my needs with my wants when they’re at odds.
I want to spend every possible moment with Baby K.
I need some quiet time for myself.
Every time I think I’m on it, I fall. Honestly, she’s hard to resist…
But then I remember we’re at the end of the second month.
End. Of. The. Second. Month.

And I offer myself empathy and understanding.
Which, if I’m being honest, I never do.
My personal expectations are residual from my childhood, keep my head down and do the hard work and don’t complain about it. I received no empathy or understanding. I was expected to do what I was told without question.
I end up expecting myself to manage all ‘the things’ and be resigned to do so without complaint.
When triggered, we all go to the place we ‘know’.
So, if I offer myself some grace, it can be a place where I can stop and breathe. I can bask in that grace and encourage understanding for myself. I can stop the triggers, and in doing so I can find balance.
I can manage my own expectations.
I can take the time I need.
I can take the time I want.
I can feel strong and grateful instead of anxious and overwhelmed.

I feel indescribable love and joy having my daughter and her family here.
Now I’m working on making it comfortable.
For me.
For my husband.
For Thing 1 and Husband N.
For Baby K.
Though, let’s be honest, she’s in high cotton as the tiny princess in this multigenerational household.

At the end of the second month, I feel tired. But more than that, I feel hopeful.

Categories: me | Tags: empathy, expectations, family, feeling hopeful, grace, hope, hopeful, love, managing expectations, multigenerational family, multigenerational home, new way of being, overwhelmed, understanding | 2 Comments

a surprising lack of expectations

Posted on January 3, 2020 by robynbird

Is it natural to take stock when one year ends and another begins?
Perhaps.
Is it simply a social construct?
Probably.

Regardless, in addition to bearing witness to others, I find myself considering events and conducting examinations of self as I move into the first few days of the new year.

When considering 2019, here’s what stands out for me:
Baby K
finishing my degree
my September ‘epiphany’
three weeks away with YBW

As I shift my focus to what’s ahead in 2020, I’m excited to see what the year brings. Interestingly enough, I find myself open to whatever comes with a surprising lack of expectations. (That’s today, be sure to check back to see how that changes.)
To be perfectly honest, I find it absolutely freeing!
No real expectations. What might that look like?
I’ll teach.
I’ll read.
I’ll write.
I’ll be creative in other ways.

Of course, I’m waiting to hear if I’ve been accepted into the graduate program.
Thing 1, Husband N, and Baby K are planning a move to Virginia.
YBW and I intend to purchase a new home in the later part of the coming year.
Anniversaries of birth for people I love.
Shoot days.
Theater tickets.
Dinners with friends.
Uneventful days, and days chock so full it’s nearly too much.
Adventures great and small.

I’m smart enough to know better than to ask 2020 to ‘bring it!”.
But feel completely comfortable saying, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Because I have hope.
Because I am of open of mind and heart.
And let’s be real, that’s the best way to walk into anything.

Categories: me | Tags: anticipation, be opened, expectations, faith, hope, life, live the life you love, love, new beginnings, new year, open your heart | 3 Comments

in love with being alive

Posted on March 1, 2019 by robynbird

I saw this on my friend Becca’s (I think) insta.
I was over here like, First of all I don’t drink coffee…
But then I read the last sentence and I got the gooseflesh.

I hope you fall in love with being alive again.
Y’all, let’s ponder that for a moment.

I’m going to ignore the size of the assumption someone has fallen out of love with being alive. I mean, cause that’s one hell of a big assumption.
But…

I wrote just the other day about paying attention. By deliberately acknowledging my gratitude I felt peaceful and joyful. And I might not have had this language in that moment, but I realize now that I can say I truly felt in love with being alive.
That’s been an overarching theme for me this year. And yes, the year is still young. But the feeling has been building in me for quite some time now, it just began to make enough sense to put it into play after the holidays.

I get bogged down in the living of life. The day to day minutiae becomes the focus. I’m so involved in doing the tedious daily requirements I sometimes forget to look up. To pay attention.

That’s life though, right?
Only what if it wasn’t?
What if I could be focused on tedious tasks, manage the minutiae, and still be aware?
What if? What if? What if?
That question ought to be stricken from my vernacular.
As a lifetime question-asker, I’m still learning how to phrase questions so they can be answered.
So instead of asking what if? the question could be something much more specific.
What can I do to complete tedious tasks and manage the minutiae without it being my sole focus?
What can I do each day to help me look up and pay attention?
Simple rephrasing.
Look how much easier those questions seem than the what if? question.
I think I’m on to something here…just gotta figure out what it is exactly.

Anyway, life can get in the way of living. I think we all experience that. It doesn’t have to though. We really can manage to do the ‘all the things’ and still experience peace, joy, and gratitude.
We can be in love with being alive!
I believe with every fiber of my being that it is the simplest thing.
(Most of us) were in love with being alive when we were kids. And at other important/special times in our lives. We just have to remember how to do it.
We have to remember that the tedium and minutiae are just box checking. A handful of specific things we must accomplish in this life.
But we have two hands!
What’s in the other one?
Is that where the magic of love, hope, joy, and gratitude are?

Life can be frustrating.
Difficult people or situations can get in your way.
One of my biggest pet peeves is people in stores who push their buggies all willy-nilly through the aisles. I get foaming-at-the-mouth angry. I lay curses and wish plagues upon them. I want to stab them with my ice pick. My anger doesn’t impact them, only me. I’m the one all jacked up and they’re just shopping.
What would it be like if I didn’t?
What would it be like if I accepted being in this situation without focusing all my white hot anger at it?
Would make my visits to the shops much better for me. I might even find some joy and gratitude with my purchases, right?

Perception is key. (Or is it ‘Don’t be a hater’?)
Either way, I know I’m on to something this time.

I know I have the ability to shift my focus.
I know I can pay attention to what brings me joy and gratitude.
I know by looking up once in a while, I can quite easily be in love with being alive.

However worn out we feel, however tired we are of the tedium and minutiae of life, we are not broken. We may have fissures, or be fractured, but life cannot truly break us.
I know this because I’m full of love. I’m full of hope. It slips in and fills in the cracks from those long ago fractures. Love and hope make me whole.

Hope reminds me to look up and pay attention.
Gratitude brings me peace.
Love is my intention.
And that’s what helps me fall (and remain) in love with being alive!

Categories: me | Tags: fall in love with being alive, focus, gratitude, hope, love, love and hope make me whole, pay attention | 6 Comments

feeling the appropriate amount of drama

Posted on December 10, 2018 by robynbird

Apparently my wish is PWCS command. I got the text that schools were closed last night just before 9:00.
We have a snow day!
But it’s dry as a bone outside…the southern part of VA got pounded, even the southern part of the county.
Who cares! I’m home today!
Gotta make the most of it.

**warning**
Buckle up kiddies, we’re going on one hell of a stream of consciousness ride today.
For your own safety, and peace of mind, please keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times.

I wrote this on Friday:

It feels like I waste so much time.
I am truly astonished at how much time I actually waste each day.
I’m not sure what that’s about.
I don’t have it in me to write.
I don’t pick up things to read.
I am not depressed.
I am not having issues with my brain.
I’m just in this weird cycle of pressuring myself to work and not actually getting any thing done.
Will put some time at considering how I might break the cycle.

I wrote these words this morning:

I’m a bit worried. I can feel myself being really anxious and there’s not a logical reason for it.
I’m not doing anything I’m meant to be doing except go to work and do my job. I’m barely feeding myself. I’m not writing or reading. I’m not doing homework.
I’m avoiding things I normally enjoy.
The more I write, the more these things are describing depression.
I don’t feel depressed!
Unless…
These are signs of what’s to come…? These are my warning signs…?

I’m not sure how to shake myself loose!
It’s easy to say, “just do it” (fuck you, Nike) but it doesn’t work that way.

I have to write six lesson plans and I literally cannot even open the rubric to see what needs to be done.
I need to watch classroom videos and can’t stand the sight or sounds of children long enough to record my observations.
I have a stack of books in my TBR shelf and I don’t even want to touch them!
And the thing that kind of frightens me the most…I’m not all SQUEEEEEE!! about wrapping gifts.

On this gift of a snow day I’ve already started the laundry and plan to wrap gifts.
And if there’s time before my massage appointment, I’ll do some homework.
I may attempt to turn part of this into a blog post, but maybe not till Wed…?
Of course, I started one Sunday last week when we came home from the play…I lost my momentum and thought process because I didn’t make the time to go back to it until yesterday.

I think those words are key: make the time

I’m not making the time to do anything!
I’m literally just wasting the days away.
Of course, I’m tired after school. And this family schedule is…tricky to say the least. But I’m not sure I’m actually forcing myself to do what needs to be done.
Just the words ‘forcing myself’ speak volumes.

I am overwhelmed.
I’m not sure what that’s about really.
Is it conceptual overwhelm-edness? Am I just so caught up in what needs to be done and what I’m not actually doing that it’s stressing me out?
I do feel overwhelmed.
Anxious.
Like I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But I need to sort it so I don’t go down the rabbit hole! Especially at this time of year!

Perhaps building a quick schedule. Moderate my time?
Also create a looking forward to thingie, some kind of list maybe?
So I’ll do what I’m meant to be doing and then I’ll be excited with what I’m looking forward to…that could inspire me to get it together with a quickness…?

I can hear my mother in my head, ‘put your nose to the grindstone and work’ ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ ‘stop being so dramatic’
Is it that easy?
Can I just buck up and power through?

It’s not just my stuff that makes me anxious.
I’m anxious around the house.
I’m anxious around my husband.
I’m avoiding the kid so as not to be anxious around him. I was saying this to YBW and he mused that perhaps that’s why the kid never leaves his room when he’s home.
That was more responsibility than I’m interested in taking on. I was just talking about how tricky it is to want to help him and also let him do his own thing. How that induces anxiety in me. Is what I’m feeling causing actions in the kid? Well, that’s a conversation that could be had, but I’ll not be taking the responsibility for it.
Feeling all the more anxious…

I don’t feel comfortable.
Almost as though I’m in a show I don’t understand. As though I learned my lines, and blocking, and costume changes, but when I arrived on stage, I don’t recognize the other actors, or dialogue, or anything really. As though I prepped for a completely different show.
That seems rather dramatic as I read it, but it’s exactly how I feel!
That scenario is appropriate for the level of confusion and anxiety I am experiencing.

I hear my mother hissing, “Don’t be so dramatic!”
My initial response is the hang my head.

But the reality is that this is my life, and the only one I’ll get.
I feel the way I feel. I’m not behaving in an overly dramatic way, I’m just feeling my feels in a somewhat dramatic way.
Feeling my feels is only mine. So I’ll feel as dramatic (or not) as is appropriate to me.
I’m going to do my best to figure how to work through this. To do what needs to be done, tempered with not feeling so anxious about it.

However overwhelmed I’m feeling, I have the power.
My life. My power.
I can do whatever, whenever, and however it works best for me.
Now, currently it doesn’t feel like much is working…but I have the power to change that.
I just have to figure a way to make the time to tap into it…

Categories: me, mental health | Tags: anxiety, anxious, depression, hope, love, personal motivation, stream of consciousness | 6 Comments

giving of thanks for November

Posted on November 29, 2018 by robynbird

November. The month that contains the giving of thanks. And y’all, I am not a Thanksgiving kind of girl.
That said, I am chock full of gratitude this month.

Charleston visit.
Time with Sally and her fam.
Time with Jessica.
Solitary road trip.

My therapist.
Two of the three alternative healthcare providers.
Our therapist.
Amber. (she does my hair)

First snow day of the year! (Nov 15)
YBW’s sense of humor.
An unexpected day spent with Catherine.
Independent bookshops.
Michaels coupons.
Mail from Sundance.
My mother in law’s ring back on my finger.
40% off sale at J Crew. (Roby’s getting a new coat for Christmas.)
Flannel jammie pants.
My monogrammed rain boots.
Target’s customer service.
Old Town Warrenton.
Shop small Saturday.
Accidental wine tastings.
Eric Clapton’s Christmas album.
redbubble.com
Holding hands with YBW.

Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Apple cider mimosas.
Spending Thanksgiving with friends and family and actually enjoying myself.
YBW’s mad kitchen cleaning skills.
A powerful phone conversation with Thing 2.

A new menorah for Hanukkah. (first night is Dec 2)
Christmas decorating.
Making bows.
Fairy lights on the banister.
So! Many! Baby! Jesuses!

And quite possibly what I’m most grateful for!

Thing 1 is pregnant!
The best part is that she is in excellent health, and the baby is strong and healthy!

My cup runneth over.

Categories: me | Tags: accentuate the positive, family and friends, grandbaby, grateful life, gratitude, hope, life, love, love my life, mental health, pregnancy | 2 Comments

September gratitude

Posted on October 1, 2018 by robynbird

September was a difficult month.
That wretched therapy appointment started it off.
YBW and I spent a great deal of time focused on the lack of effort Thing G spends on being responsible for his own life.
I didn’t realize how disappointed I would be when the time came for us to be holding a new baby and there was not one to hold.

That said, there’s much to be grateful for!

Boyfriend J’s birthday.
My therapist.
Our therapist.
Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company’s production of Gloria.

All three of my alternative healthcare providers.
Fall decorations!
Amber. (She does my hair, and it looks GOOD!)
Meaningful conversations with Sally.
The sun finally showed up!
Ridiculously fun meme sharing with Sundance.
The easiest blood draw I’ve ever experienced! (my veins roll and that makes for bad times)
Double date at the art festival with M and J.
Phone calls with Jessica.
Being in the park for the last home game of the season. (Nats won 9-3!!)
Sirius XM Broadway.
Cocktails with YBW.
Sitting in the sun at the Naval Academy watching our nephew play Rugby.
Spending time with great friends-as-family in Annapolis!
Talking with my girls.
Cooler temperatures. (Only by a smitch, but I’ll take it!)
Shakespeare Theatre Company’s Comedy of Errors.

Finishing a successful school term.
Did I mention the sun finally showed up?