At the risk of sounding like a terrible mother, this summer is kicking my ass.
There, I said it.
Last August I cried when it was time for summer to end and watch my oldest head off to first grade. And throughout the whole school year I wished for summer. I longed for the days of flexible schedules, staying up late, and no (well, less) lunch-packing. But summer’s in full swing now, friends. And we’re not even halfway through.
I call this picture “The Proud Mama”.
Yep, that’s my reflection in the mirror in the back of the dance studio. You can see from the look on my face that pride is literally radiating from my being.
Why am I so proud? You may think it’s because I am responsible for birthing this incredibly adorable ballerina. And, yes, that’s part of it. But what I’m most proud of is the fact that my baby girl is doing this. She is participating in her first dance class – her first independent extra-curricular activity, actually – and I couldn’t be happier for her.
Last fall I was introduced to a sweet woman named Jeba Pandian. Jeba and I would be working together on That’s Inappropriate‘s online parenting community that was just starting called Hot Mess Express. We became acquainted, and 8 months later, I am proud to call this woman my friend.
As I got to know Jeba, I learned more about her personal story of loss, hope and healing. I also learned that she has a beautiful, giving heart and a commitment to helping others who have been through similar losses.
One way that Jeba has worked to help others cope with loss is through her writing. Almost one year ago, she and her daughter, Sophia, published a beautiful children’s picture book (illustrated by Cynthia Meadows) to help children deal with a loss. The book, called My Sister Is My Guardian Angel, is available on www.myangelbooks.com, as well as on Amazon.
I am excited to share with you that Jeba has put together a giveaway that is going on now! If you enter, you have a chance to win a copy of her book, as well as other goodies!
This morning, after my daughter had gone to school, I prepared breakfast for my toddler. As he happily played with his dinosaur toys at the dining room table, I microwaved a frozen pancake and poured some syrup on top. I brought the plate over to him and began cutting up the pancake into bite size pieces.
“Good job, Mommy!” he delightfully exclaimed.
Dear Speech Therapist,
You met my daughter, a little pixie of a girl, almost four years ago. She had round cheeks and two tiny, wispy pigtails that you tell me you remember like it was yesterday. Although my little girl had recently turned three years old, she had less than 25 words in her vocabulary when you met.
You and my daughter clicked almost instantly and began building the foundation for the unbreakable bond the two of you would go on to form. Your kind and loving nature put my timid little girl at ease. I knew from the very beginning that you were the right person for the job of helping her learn to communicate with the world.