morning thoughts on a mother’s day…

People have said to me that I’m a good mother. Then there was that one time when someone called me a deadbeat mother. There are the things people say about you and then the things you think about yourself.

I have been a mother for almost 20 years. The role has not always been sunshine and rainbows, but I think that’s the mental weight of what I thought it meant to be a mother.

I know it’s a hard day for a lot of people, so I won’t take up too much space talking about it. But I felt like this was worth putting out there…

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a series of three haikus about what happened today…

I haven’t written a poem in awhile, but I felt moved to do so today. One wasn’t enough, so I’m giving you three that provide a solid overview of our day… so far.

You’re welcome…

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a quest called tribe… (pt. two)

Coming to Boise, Collin and I only knew a handful of people who lived in the area. Luckily, we had our kids (and our co-parenting family) as our tribe to lean on for support during this transition.

After some time at my job, I got to know my coworkers pretty well and spent time with them outside of the office. We lunched, shared TMI, went to birthday parties, celebrated divorces, yoga’d, and happy hour’d. This was my “MHD” tribe.

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a quest called tribe… (pt. one)

Some tribes you choose; and some you don’t. When we choose the members of our tribe, we usually find people in one of four ways: similar interests, things in common, in close proximity, and/or through referrals or third-party introductions. Or you can be born into one and others can be born into yours.

When my mom married my dad, she already had two kids, a son and daughter, from her first marriage. When I was born, my brother and sister were 11 years old and 15 years old, respectively. Although technically they are my “half” siblings, I never thought of them that way; they were always whole to me. As the baby of this family unit, I loved my people, looked up to them, and was fiercely proud of them. This was my first tribe.

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