Newsletter Alert > The Importance of Being Right

Watching the blowup and fallout over a guest post on one of my favorite blogs recently, something finally clicked in my mind. It’s an idea a good friend of mine has been stressing for years. It’s something that I sniffed at while listening to someone try desperately to prove his theological position last week. It’s something I struggle with daily in my relationship to my oldest son. It’s how badly we want to be RIGHT. 

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Newsletter Alert > Surrender

It’s finally here, my last musing of the year, for your perusal.   Surrender.  It’s a rather introspective one, please forgive me but it’s what I needed to write.  Thanks for reading, for sharing, and for being a part of my little corner of the web.  I wish you all abundant joy, no matter how festive or frugal your holidays may be! 

Cheers to you all,

SaneMom

ps, sorry the first like was a bad one, it’s fixed now!

Newsletter Alert > Knowing When It's Time

Knowing When It’s Time

We’ve been making noises for over a year now about moving out of the city.  The desire is there, the vision is getting more concrete, and yet the ways and means aren’t visible yet.  It’s been long enough that when I run into friends I haven’t seen in awhile, they often ask “So how are the moving plans going?”  I find myself cringing internally, as I don’t really have a solid answer.  They feel like they’re going nowhere, at least in any ways I can talk about.  I don’t want to appear wishy-washy, but have to say something about “getting closer.”  We are closer to checking off our last major get-done-in-nyc dream, but it’s not quite that simple.

When is it time to leave that job?   To make that leap?  To get rid of that possession?  To take that chance?

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Newsletter Alert > Handling Criticism

The latest edition of the SaneMom Monthly is finally up (my lovely internet connection foiled my attempts to post last night!), with an article about Handling Criticism: How Thick is Your Skin?

I had the experience a few weeks ago of having someone decide to tell me a pile of things they thought I needed to hear, none of which were complementary or pleasant. I took it all in, asked for details, and fell apart a few times. It hurt. A lot.

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