(I know that this is supposed to be a not serious blog (as part of my joy as resistance efforts) and so I’m putting this in the uplifting category. I promise not to get too ranty (but if I do, then you can just give me a break cause I’m still practicing.)) My first non-profit … Continue reading
Category Archives: Gratitude Project
Comfortably Numb
I am a creature of habit. Maybe more than anyone I know (except my oldest), I thrive in routine and structure. I love waking up and knowing what the day is going to be like. I do not like my feathers ruffled. That being said, The Baby has been in the hospital now for … Continue reading
Haikus for You On My 31st Birthday
Trampolines are fun I can float like a seagull Sometimes I piddle I am so tired Every day, all of the time Why can’t I sleep in? We went on a run We all walked most of the time My knee is swollen I repeat myself. I will tell the same story … Continue reading
Two Years A Mother
Two years ago, today, Alex and I drove down to San Antonio to meet our son for the very first time. We ate lunch at a Panera, brushed our teeth in the parking lot of a convenient store, and then sat nervously in a crowd of parents in the cafeteria of The Kid’s 2nd grade … Continue reading
Thirty, Turdy, and Thriving
I don’t really like descriptive words that end in “y”, so I would never use the word ‘flirty’ to describe myself. Also, I’ve literally snot-bubbled in front of cool kids and trapped my acid farts in the car of a boy that I liked so…I would never use the word “flirty” to describe myself, even … Continue reading
Welderbeth Gets an Office
(I wrote this last year but it never got posted last so I’m now sharing the saga and subsequent rescue out of the closet office.) I had a meeting a few weeks ago with my executive director (the big enchilada at our non-profit). It was about my office space at our satellite campus, where I just spend … Continue reading
29 for my 29th
Did you know that, in some countries, you are considered 1 year old when you are born? It’s true. Sometimes, refugee families come in to my work and they tell me that the child with the pacifier and the diaper who is barely verbal is three years old. So, then we have to get the … Continue reading
