And, when you find it, please let me know you did by leaving a comment. As always, I appreciate your support!
😉
Also, if you’ve been so kind as to include me on your blogroll, please add me back as Soapbox Mom (and if I’ve lost your site, just let me know and I’ll be sure to add it right back onto my blogroll)!
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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For various reasons, I have stayed far, far away from politics on this blog. I used to be so deeply enmeshed in politics that it’s sometimes a struggle not to say something about the topic. Nonetheless, I’ve managed to stay far, far away. Until now.
This post may shock people who know me, but when I heard the first lady of California share an Eleanor Roosevelt quote about taking risks (actually, she said, “Do one thing every day that scares you.”) I decided this post would be my risk for the day.
Whether you’re a Republican, Independent, or Democrat, I just ask for a few moments of your time (you have to watch it all the way to the end) to watch this video. In all my life, I’ve never seen a candidate (not just the video, more accurately the whole package) that moves me the way this guy does. I can’t help but think that he could do great things for our country.
Ask your kids who they support and who the other kids in their school think should be president. You might be surprised by the answer. Most kids I know (regardless of the party affiliation of their parents) enthusiastically say, “Obama!” Think about that. The little ones who, in many cases, have a closer connection to what’s real, to what matters in life (because they’re free from all the facades and spin and BS) have a passionate affinity for this man.
It seems to me that he’s just the kind of change this country needs.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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Do you want people to wish you a Happy Birthday (when they know it’s your birthday)?
I do. Is that childish? Unreasonable? Silly?
My left brain, logical, rational mind says, “Of course it is. Grow up!” But then, my emotional half of the brain says, “No! I mean, what the heck, we go nuts — crazy, out of control, over the top — on kids’ birthday parties and we don’t even wish each other good wishes on the anniversaries of our births? What’s that about?!”
There’s a real imbalance there. I mean I’ve been known to throw my share of fun parties for kids. So, I’m not knocking the parties. I’m just saying that I think parents could help each other out a little bit if they would just show some thoughtfulness and kindness toward each other, even when (or maybe especially when) they know that the person to whom they’re extending the greeting is over 30. Maybe we make those middle ages feel older by letting go of the joy and celebration that surround the birthday parties of childhood.
Here’s what started this little train of thought.
In past years, with more than a handful of people, I’ve experienced something like this:
I send an email telling someone that I can’t meet to discuss some volunteering obligation (for the kids) because it’s my birthday. In response, I get nothin’.
No, “Well, I hope you have a good day.”
No, “Happy birthday, girlfriend!”
No, “Oh, no problem, I wouldn’t want to meet that day, either.”
Not even those two little words, Happy Birthday.
Sure, I’ve sometimes been told that I have too much of a Pollyanna attitude toward life, (what some consider to be an annoyingly positive, silly and cheerful disposition). But I don’t think wishing people who are over 30 or 40 a Happy Birthday is immature or offensive.
Hmmm. On second thought…
Maybe that’s not it at all…
Is it that some people don’t want to even think about their birthday when they’re over 40? So they don’t want to touch the topic at all? Are they afraid of somebody grumbling back at them? What? Enlighten me, please. Gosh, if that’s the case, then…well…I feel sad for them. Who says we have to stop enjoying life at a certain age? Why? Where’s the logic in that? That can’t be healthy. Who knows where that might lead…
Grumpy Old Men (1993)
Notice that I’m not saying anything at all about materialistic goods. I’m not saying that I want my friends and family to purchase the latest must-have handbag or some blingy piece of jewelry. That’s not at all what I’m talking about. It’s about kindness and consideration. Thoughtfulness and sincerity that’s simple and instinctive.
For example, when I went into a store (on my birthday) with my son to select little trinkets to include in his favor bags for his birthday party, he saw something that he thought I would like for my birthday, so he said, “Mom, you should get that…for your birthday. C’mon, it’s your birthday!” A very nice woman overheard him and turned to me and said, “It’s your birthday? Well, Happy Birthday! Yes, you should get that for yourself!” My son and I both smiled and thanked her and as we walked away, he said, “Wow. That was so nice!”
Two simple words.
What a difference. Physically, I felt lighter and stood taller. My thoughts turned to more positive, happy places. I felt grateful for that stranger’s kindness and those two words.
Now I make a point of keeping track of people’s birthdays and wishing them well on their day (unless, of course, they make it clear that they’d rather not be reminded). To each his own. Right?
Well, whenever it’s your birthday, this one’s for you:
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Images from Google Images. Oh, and by the way, it’s not my birthday.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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On January 22, 2008, this blog registered 10,001 visitors. Wow!
Last fall, I started this blog (when I transferred my original blog and its old posts from Blogspot over to WordPress). Since then, I’ve met so many cool, interesting, bright and supportive bloggers and have discovered a world (in which I’m quite comfortable) of fascinating, entertaining and insightful blogs.
Hmm…are bloggers supposed to do something special or symbolic when they notice this 10K mark? Well, I’m blissfully unaware of any sort of unwritten rule or code of conduct, so, instead, I’m just going to express my gratitude for all things weblog related.
Thanks for reading;
thanks for commenting;
thanks for writing and sharing;
thanks for your support and words of encouragement;
thanks for making me laugh and (occasionally) bringing tears to my eyes.
Thanks for taking the time to look at pictures and videos I sometimes feel compelled to share.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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My blogger friend over at Missives from Suburbia recently wrote a terrific post about how feelings originate from either fear or love. She presented a challenge to her readers to watch how we talk to and treat our loved ones and then make rational choices instead of impulsive ones. I took that to mean that I should consciously choose love over fear, kindness over harshness.
So today, the starting point for this challenge, I started my day in a fine way, with a smile on my face, newspaper in front of me, coffee in hand. Then the kids start acting…well…a little revved. Goofy, silly, loud, talking too much about farts and butts, you know, being just a bit overly wild. I chose to ignore it all (well, except when I reminded them of our rule of no potty talk at the table), but as for the other stuff, I just kept telling myself, “Give ’em a little bit of slack today. They’re so happy…they’ll be on their way to school soon enough…” (as I felt the beginning pangs of a headache).
I quietly slipped into my room to get dressed, pulled on one of my favorite sweaters, and got ready for the day, urging myself to believe that there are no bad days, only bad moments. Each moment we make a choice (or many choices), and I was determined to choose to keep moving forward, to keep things in perspective and most of all to just be aware of how my state of mind affected my choices.
Then I noticed a hole in my favorite sweater. When did that get there? Rats. Take that off, put on some other shirt. Whatever. Keep going. It’s just an article of clothing. As my day continued, it just kept getting worse and worse (I won’t bore you with all the details, let’s just say it involved PMS). It reminded me of that picture book I recently reviewed on my radio show, called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. You know, where everything seems to be going wrong and the bad moments continue throughout the day.
By dinnertime, I was really cranky and couldn’t muster a smile for anything. So I tell the kids to just give me some space. “I just want to check a few things online and then I’ll start making dinner,” I explain. So, I’m at the computer when I hear the first few notes of a song from the movie Alvin and the Chipmunks. I look over to my right and see my son holding a tablespoon like a microphone while he lipsyncs the words (he recently discovered how to do it and is pretty excited to fake sing to all kinds of music in a hammy, performing kind of way). It’s pretty darn cute.
Anyway, so I glance over and notice he’s there, but I keep typing away on my keyboard. Then I glance again and notice that he has no intention of moving. Oh, no. He’s standing there as if it’s the stage in the Kodak Theatre and I’m his audience of thousands. He’s still looking right at me.
I know, sometimes it takes me a while, but I finally realized that this wasn’t just a quick snippet of a song, rather he was trying to pull me out of my funk. So I stop typing and get into the moment…this precious moment that somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind I recognize I really need right about now.
I turn toward him and see his eyes looking at me in a way only your own child can. I can’t help but smile. He’s lipsyncing to the song Bad Day but instead of Daniel Powter singing Bad Day, it’s the one from Alvin and the Chipmunks.
Alvin’s version of the song, Bad Day
It’s working. My cranky-wall cracks ever so slightly and I start to smile, but just a little grin.
Then, at just the right moment, right at this big crescendo, my daughter slides into view (on her knees, doing a sweeping slide that finishes with her left arm swinging up into the air for dramatic effect). She, too, holds a tablespoon mic in her right hand, and joins my son in the lipsyncing extravaganza. Our dog feels the good vibes (or something) and trots over happily, wanting to share in this jubilant affair.
The whole performance is enough to make me stand up at the end, with a huge grin on my face and a really warm feeling inside, wrap my arms around both of my kids and just revel in this amazing moment. The kids are absolutely beaming. They know what works for me, how to make me smile, what can bring a smile to my face (as long as I choose to let it in).
How can all that translate to you? Well, I could say, “You should buy the Alvin & the Chipmunkstune, have your kids learn the words to Bad Day and sing for you.” But that seems like asking a lot and wouldn’t necessarily translate.
No, I just offer you this: when you’re having a really lousy day (like Alexander’s or like mine or whatever kind of day is your kind of bad day), dig way down to get to that place where you can throw off the mask that we often hide behind as adults and then look at your kids. You know, really look at your kids. If they’re not singing, then try to imagine them singing. Or pick up a picture of them when they’re asleep or when they’re being their most adorable.* It will melt you and get you back to a place where you can more easily choose love, compassion and kindness. The place where your heart wants to be. It’s a glorious place. Really. And it’s the key to getting past those bad days moments.
Love’s hard to beat.
It’s moments like those that make being a mom really, really great.
*This reference is to a post from another one of my blogger friend’s blogs, The Busy Dad Blog within which he shows a great picture of his son, affectionately referred to as Fury, at one of his most adorable moments. See what I mean?Makes you melt…and hopefully will do so even more when it’s your own.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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My daughter has been playing basketball half her life. She plays well and has a good time doing it. She opted not to play travel ball so she could just have fun playing it without the intensity and competitiveness of travel teams.
Recently, however, we experienced something that may have changed her approach and overall state of mind with respect to the sport. The crux of the problem? A parent.
In this particular game, she was playing really well. In fact, I was amazed by a few of her shots. It looked like she was being moved by some greater force or something. I mean, she floated down the court and, in one case, hit a shot from the three point line, using only her right arm, flinging it in with nothin’ but net.
It was beautiful.
She was having so much fun.
Until a dad from the other team apparently decided that the three high school girls coaching his daughter’s team weren’t doing their jobs coaching his daughter. He stepped in and took over, intimidating the girls and getting his face right in all of their faces. I couldn’t hear what he said to them, but my daughter’s teammates overheard him say to his daughter, “You see that #23? Whatever you do, don’t let her take a shot!”
He barked his orders and sent out his attack dog.
We’re talking fifth and sixth grade girls, here, people.
I was keeping the clock for the game, which meant I was sitting next to a dad from the other team, who was keeping the stats and the score in the official game book. He and I had been engaging in friendly chatter for the duration of the game. When Attack Dad turned his daughter into Attack Girl even scorekeeper dad noticed. He said, “Wow, she’s being pretty nasty.” He told me about how he believes that a lot of parents try to live through their kids and work out whatever they were unable to accomplish in their own childhoods. Sure, I’ve heard that and believe it. But, geesh!
At one point, when the girl had excessively elbowed my daughter (and had the bruises and cuts to show for it afterward), she asked Attack Girl, “What are you doing?” Attack Girl responded harshly, “It’s called playing a sport.”
Well, that’s not the way I’ve been taught to play sports. Or the way my kids have been taught to play sports. Certainly not girls’ basketball, anyway. And certainly not in elementary school.
After four fouls called on his daughter, my daughter went to the drinking fountain, shaken, crying and battered. Scorekeeper dad nudged me and said softly, “Er, I think your daughter’s crying.” Sure enough, he’d pushed her to the point of tears. She walked over to me. I hugged her and could feel her shaking. She showed me her cuts and said, “Mom, I’ve never played with someone so mean.”
The coaches took my daughter out for the rest of the game.
I didn’t know how to handle this situation. Attack Dad stands at about 6’3″ and fiercely glares at people. I don’t think it’s my imagination. During that game he looked fierce. Should I have gone over to the guy and said something? If so, what? Would that have really solved anything? The coaches were apologizing, the referees were apologizing, even scorekeeper dad apologized. He told me that his dad coached his basketball team when he was a boy and that, in his opinion, that girl was way over the top. There were definitely moments when it was all I could do to hold myself back from running out there and getting between them.
It was just awful.
I know I’m a bit of a lightweight and hate conflict, but I’m also a sports lover and appreciate the pleasure one can get from playing a good competitive game. But this? This incident was not sport.
I looked over at the guy and scowled in my own kind of glaring way, but then I remembered the hockey player’s dad who killed a guy. So, I decided to walk away. It’s what my daughter wanted to do, too. She said, “Mom, I just want to leave. Please.” So I wrapped my arm around her, held her close and walked out the door.
She really hasn’t played the same way since that game. I can’t help but wonder if she subconsciously fears more attacks, so she’s pulling back a bit on her level of play. Better to fit in than to be attacked (?!). I hope not. I hope the Attack Family did not win by intimidation. But, on the other hand, maybe my daughter has a point when she says we should start thinking about tennis.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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As I approached my fortieth birthday, I kept hearing really negative words of advice like, “Be prepared. It’s all downhill from then on.” Well, I don’t agree that my life has gone downhill, but I have to admit that, after turning forty, little things started…changing. Even my cheery disposition took a hit. What you are about to read may turnoff many of my readers, but freedom of speech is one of the things I love about our country. It’s here…if you want to read it, great!…if not, then please wait for my next post (or read some of the older ones (?)).
I’ve heard many of my elders say that there are some things we just have to experience for ourselves or some things that just shouldn’t be discussed. Hmm…well why not? I’d rather have full information. I’d rather hear about the good, the bad and the ugly. For example, there are some not so pretty things about being a mom that I had never heard before having kids but was glad to eventually learn. Like just how difficult it is to handle newborn babies and that parents of newborns often get very little sleep (sometimes, as in our case, for over a year).
And my favorite little tidbit that came as a surprise: if you breast feed your kids, your breasts will be bigger during pregnancy and while you’re breastfeeding than they were before you were pregnant. But when you stop breastfeeding? They shrink. I mean, they end up smaller than they were pre-pregnancy. Did you know that? Okay, maybe I’m the only dope that didn’t know that, but I was surprised. Had I known, I would’ve told my husband, “Enjoy these babies now, because when I stop nursing, they’ll be much smaller.” But I didn’t know. Not a huge deal, but I would’ve liked to have known. That’s all.
Now I’m learning about something called perimenopause — that’s the time before menopause. Many books have been written about this topic, but I’ve only recently been given one that helped me understand what I’m going through right now.
I guess it makes sense that a woman’s body needs to go through a process (in which hormones go a little crazy) in adolescence to prepare her body for childbirth. The whole childbirth process wreaks havoc on a woman’s system. I’ll never forget how stunned my hubby looked when he witnessed our first child’s birth. During the cesarean section operation, he saw the doctors temporarily remove my insides, take our beautiful baby girl from my uterus, hand her off, then carefully replace my internal organs. And that was after eighteen hours of labor. Hard for him to witness, even harder for my body to endure. My recovery period was about six weeks long. My body had to readjust, go back to functioning without baby in utero. Big changes. Oh, it also switched from focusing on nourishing and growing a baby to becoming a milk factory. Yep. There was a whole lot going on.
So…
To prepare for the active years of childbirth, a woman’s body sort of gears up in adolescence and our girls become moody, emotional, a little more unpredictable and more womanly. What about when the body is preparing to shutdown? It makes sense that that requires some time, too. Our bodies are putting on the brakes, sort of. Slowing down the system until it can finally report, “Okay, chief. The childbirth factory has officially ceased operations.” Sure, now that I really think about it, it makes sense. How could I expect it to just stop overnight? “That’s it. No more periods. You’re done.”
No, not like that at all. Instead, we go through yet another hormonal time (which is tough not only for our loved ones having to deal with us, but also for us). It’s a transition period. We sometimes become moody, more emotional and more unpredictable. For example, I recently volunteered to help in my daughter’s school and found myself overcome with frustration when the kids just wouldn’t quiet down. I understand now what it’s like for substitute teachers. Kids push the limits with anyone who’s not their regular homeroom teacher. Anyway, I raised my voice a little and said they needed to quiet down and not start playing the strategy games they were about to play. Not a big deal, maybe, but I haven’t stopped thinking about it (and it happened several weeks ago). I’ve helped out in classrooms for about a decade or so and I’ve never done that. I’m usually the one who smiles and maybe rings a little bell or something or waits until they stop talking before proceeding. But this time…I don’t know…I just said, “Do NOT begin until you are ALL seated.” It just wasn’t me. You know what I mean? I was thinking, “Did I just say that out loud?” I felt guilty and embarrassed and wanted to run out of there. When I got home, I thought, “Maybe I just can’t handle the older kids. Maybe I shouldn’t do things like that anymore.” Then I started to read that book my friend gave me.
It’s called, The Pause by Lonnie Barbach.
I encourage every 30 something woman to read it.
That’s as much as I’ll say right now, but I’ll give you more details when I finish the book.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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I confided in someone (whom I considered to be a wise elder) that mothering was exhausting and all consuming. I wondered aloud whether I could make some time to do some things for myself without feeling guilty. I mentioned that I had read some articles about how it was important for parents to take care of themselves and that doing so would actually help the whole family because the happiness of the parents directly related to the well being of the kids. This well intentioned friend said, “Well, look at Mother Teresa! She does everything selflessly. Why can’t you?”
That conversation kept me down for about a week.
Then it hit me (thank God!). I am not Mother Teresa, I’ve never held myself out as anything close to Mother Teresa, and I don’t even want to be Mother Teresa!
My bottom line is this: I am convinced that parents need to take care of themselves and continue to develop themselves fully as human beings in order to be the best parents they can be. This means that we need to nourish ourselves physically, emotionally and spiritually.
I heard Oprah’s doc, Mehmet Oz say that we need a balance of good nutrition, happy mental states (meaning finding whatever makes us feel joy and allowing ourselves to engage in it regularly), and healthy sex lives. I completely agree. My hubby often reminds me of that spiel the flight attendants give on the planes — if the plane’s going down, you need to give the oxygen to yourself first and then give it to the children. Well, this is the same kind of thing. We need to take care of ourselves first (to a reasonable degree) and then our fulfilled, nurtured selves can be more fully present for our kids.
So go out and do something for yourself today (without harboring an ounce of guilt). See what happens. Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Maybe it can be the start of a whole new attitude toward parenting. Or maybe you’ll just have something to look back on to help you through a trying day.
As for me, I just know this: I’m going to keep telling myself that no one expects me to be a saint (well maybe that one old friend) but I’m lowering my standards and I’m okay with it. Actually, I’m more than okay with it. I’m happy about it.
Have the courage to be imperfect and the wisdom to not even attempt to be saintly.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
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My absolute favorite event at my kids’ schools is the annual Book Fair. It’s so popular at DS’s school, that I had to wait a few years before the position of co-chair opened up (and even now I’m considered the “3rd co-chair”). Anyway, the point is that I love it and everything about it. As the merchandising point person, I spend the year before the fair scoping out children’s books online and in bookstores to get a sense of what’s good and what’s probably going to be popular. Then I search online for summer reading lists to find out what all the area schools are reading. I also ask my kids and their friends about their favorite books and I keep mental notes. I’m just plain passionate about (okay, maybe obsessed with) books (particularly children’s books).
Fast forward to the Friday before the fair. A team of volunteers arrives to set up this enormous fair. Mike, the guy who delivers the 20 bookcases and gazillion boxes of books tells us it’s one of the biggest fairs he and his team have ever handled. “Wow, uh, gee, thanks…” we respond as we look at the daunting task before us. After a few handshakes and a “Thanks so much, Mike!” we decide, okay, we can do this, because, after all my co-chairs and I are all really passionate about books. Right. Okay. Here we go…
After several hours, the decorating team has transformed the enormous space we call the “large Pod” into a winter wonderland, complete with blue table cloths, snowflakes, illuminated snowmen, winter backdrops, lighted trees and more — most importantly, cases and case of books. It looks really good. We’re genuinely eager to get books in the hands of so many kids. One of my too-good-to-be-true co-chairs and I stay until the janitors kick us out (almost 11 pm) getting the books in the right places and getting everything where it needs to be.
We’re exhausted but excited.
The big day arrives — Monday, opening day. We arrive at 6:30 am to finish up some final details and prepare for our 8:00 am open. The new high tech scanners have a few glitches, but we’re generally off to a good start. Business is fairly steady. No serious problems. On Tuesday it’s more of the same, we arrive early (for our parent coffee at 7), leave late (and tired), but we’re really looking forward to Wednesday. Wednesday is always our big day. It’s when the kids really have had a chance to see the books, talk to their parents about their wish lists, then come in and buy. We start early (8:00 am) and stay open all day through to the big event — the Family Night. Our principal and several teachers scoop ice cream sundaes, complete with just about any topping you can think of (except nuts, of course, to respect the allergy restrictions), we have fun activities for the kids, storytime with a favorite teacher and all those books. It’s usually a big social event and tons of fun for everyone.
This year? Fun for everyone except me…unfortunately. At 5:10 am Wednesday morning I start throwing up…repeatedly. I kept hoping I was dreaming. It was the day I was really looking forward to. And now this?! “What the…?! NO!!!! This is not happening!!!” I called my co-chairs and told them I couldn’t make it. To say I was disappointed would be a huge understatement. This was sort of the climactic moment that all the preceding months of hard work led up to. And I was stuck in bed, unable to give suggestions to those buyers who look overwhelmed and confused about what to buy. Unable to direct people to the book they’ve been searching for but just can’t find in the midst of all the stacks. Well, maybe this was a great way for me to practice letting go and to realize that the world continues to revolve (quite well, thank you) without us control-freakish moms.
When the kids came home from school that day, they immediately knew I wouldn’t be moving from the sofa. I watched from a distance as they managed to get dinner on the table and do their homework without any complaining. I’m not saying that they whipped up some fabulous meal from a cookbook, but hey, they called and ordered pizza, paid the delivery guy (and remembered to tip him!), set and cleared the table, unloaded and loaded the dishwasher and finished their homework (without the usual sibling squabbles, too). Then, they brought me crackers, ginger-ale, and vitamin water, covered me with a blanket and pretty much made sure I had everything I needed. It was touching.
If it’s true that everything happens for a reason, then maybe this whole ordeal was a good lesson for me. When I kept asking myself, “Why is this happening today, of all days?” maybe the answer should have been, “So that you can realize that you can chill a little. You’re a big help, sure, but you’re not indispensable. And that’s okay. Really. Chill.” Right. Or maybe I just caught some 24 hour stomach flu from the hundreds of kids I was surrounded by for the past three days.
Whatever it was, I was glad to see my kids being so caring, considerate and responsible. They really stepped up when I needed them. I recently read a review of a book* about a woman who doesn’t want kids and who thinks no one should have kids (!?). I know it’s rather extreme, isn’t it? After these past few days, when I think of that woman, I just smile and think, “Darlin’ if you only knew…”
I wonder what happens when she throws up…
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UPDATE: For a great post by IzzyMom related to the book referenced above (*by Corinne Maier entitled, “No Kid: 40 Reasons for Not Having Children”), click here.
As of February 10, 2008,the Being a Mom is Great blog has moved here (www.soapboxmom.com). Please visit Soapbox Mom to read more articles by this author (bmg mom is now Soapboxmom).
It was the kind of moment when you’re looking for one book, but another just seems to pop out at you, urging you to pick it up. Don’t you love when that happens? Well, I do. And I did (pick it up).
It’s been serving as a gentle reminder to keep my head up and not let the crabby, negative people get me down.
Ferrucci describes various facets of kindness: honesty, warmth, forgiveness, contact, sense of belonging, trust, mindfulness, empathy, humility, patience, generosity, respect, flexibility, memory, loyalty, gratitude, service and joy.
I haven’t finished it yet, but I already love it.
I think about how much more pleasant our communities could be if we all focused more on being kind. Not just to strangers in the supermarket, but to our kids, spouses, families, pets, fellow bloggers and especially to people with whom we disagree.
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Being a Mom is Great! 
