Good Intentions

This morning I was determined to start eating healthy.  

But then I listened to venting, heard heartbreak, witnessed meltdowns, sat with the sleeping, made plans for next year, cried as I read my daughters poem, worried about the years progress, and watched my son disappear behind a parked car as he was chased by a dog his size with my heart leaving my body.  He emerged upset but only scraped up from falling, no bites.

So I ate a fish dinner with fries from Long John Silvers.


There seem to be periods in my life where words began to build inside me like an oklahoma storm front.  I can feel them sliding in and out of consciousness—not making much sense, just So. Many. Words.  I must have a hundred thousand things to say locked up in there trying to form into coherent phrases and find their way out.  Sometimes they actually do.  Other times the storm simply passes and nothing happens.  Tonight is one of those nights there are so many words I am responding to emails just to get a few out of my head.  As we have been reading Harry Potter I have found the idea of a pensieve completely fascinating.  I can imagine nothing more awesome at this moment than being able to pull a though from my head and place it in a bowl for a while…

If only I had some sort of control maybe I could be writing something awesome at this moment, instead of explaining why I’m not.  But I don’t.  So I can’t.

On Mother’s Day…

Mothering is hard hard work.  The hardest.  Yesterday my mother sat with her mother (as she has most days for the last many days) but this one was harder—as they started hospice.  Brutal.  Today, on Mother’s Day, I am heartbroken and helpless and thankful and loved and tired and grateful and sorry and blessed and raw and broken.


My name is Sarah.  And I am a dance mom.

Funny thing is I never really wanted to be a dance mom.  I’ve seen like 1/2 an episode of the infamous show before and it literally made me nauseous…  Definitely not a world I wanted to be a part of.  And yet…  I have this little girl who started taking dance right before she turned 3.  This little girl who marched out onto the stage at her first recital like a rockstar.  She smiled and danced and smiled and danced some more and loved every minute of it.  And here we are 7 years later and nothing has changed.

Turns out being a dance mom is nothing like the TV show.   There is hair to french twist, costumes to sequin, and eyelashes to glue.  But those things are not what any of it is about.  Being a dance mom is actually kind of amazing.

You get to watch friendships grow, girls who support each other through thick and thin.  Who are not tearing each other down to bring themselves up.  In fact I have repeatedly watched as they build each other up when one is feeling low.  You get to see them cheer each other on even when they are competing in the same category.  You get to see tears from your 7-year-old after leaving the stage at her first competition not because she was upset but because “I’m just so happy!!!”  You get to see not just yours but ALL the girls work their butts off week after week to perfect the little things.  You get to see the performances that show just how far all that work has taken them.  You get to watch your daughter finally nail her triple she’s been working so hard on front and center in competition.  Then watch as she nearly explodes from excitement as she walks off stage.  You get to see your little girl become stronger, more athletic, more graceful and most of all-more confident.  

So yes.  I am a dance mom.  And it’s kind of freaking awesome.

To my awesome dancer—I am SO proud of you and every last one of your teammates…


The past few months have been a little rough around the homefront…  Nothing major just lots and lots and LOTS of minors.

But today…

Today we were able to get all our saturday cleaning jobs done by 9:58!!!  (a new record)

Today we had an almost spontaneous play date that he has been waiting weeks for…

Today I dropped one off to rollerskate with friends and drove the other one around the corner to happen upon ‘Arizona Adventureland.’  How could we not stop to play?

Followed by dinner with this same guy.

Some reading of Harry Potter with both.

And some Skip-Bo with her after he went to bed.

Today consisted of only one meltdown.  One!!!!  A minor one consisting only of yelling of things such as—“why are you taking so long to read?!?!  I have been good all day!!!  I have been doing my PERSONAL BEST!!!!!!” Followed by a self-imposed time alone to cool down-which worked!!!

Today was beautiful.  My mind has a way of turning that into ‘well, tomorrow is obviously going to be hell…’  But I am not listening.  At least not for the next 5 minutes.  I am going to just sit. And savor. And be happy.


  • Because I can’t fix everything
  • Because our school climate (my work climate) has become negative
  • Because the teachers are tired and frustrated
  • Because the system is broken
  • Because what about the artists—and inventors—and builders
  • Because I am tired of hearing that it’s because we’re not hard enough on them
  • Because some kids don’t eat, don’t sleep, don’t see mom, see mom get hit, or get hit themselves and then come to school and get in trouble for not doing their homework
  • Because they don’t tell you what happened because they are not supposed to
  • Because kids who don’t experience trauma at home do experience it at school when the traumatized ones lose control 
  • Because not everyone cares
  • Because legislators who don’t know a DAMN thing about our school decide the solution is to increase the amount, value and difficulty of standardized tests; while decreasing the amount, value and input of teachers
  • Because the brightest part of my day is feeding breakfast to the student who walked in 15 minutes late and braiding her hair so she can start the day feeling put together
  • Because we ALL want to start the day feeling put together
  • Because that is the only part of my day I feel I am accomplishing something
  • Because I don’t tell you everything they tell me—it’s called confidentiality
  • Because punishing them more doesn’t work
  • Because I don’t know what does

I can’t fix everything.

Some days I can’t fix anything.

But I can do this:

  • I can keep showing up
  • I can love every. single. one.
  • I can look them in the eye when they talk to me
  • I can feed them breakfast
  • And I can braid their hair

It’s not enough…  

but at least it’s something


I am now in survival mode. Winter has to end soon. This grayness is slowly but surely sucking the very life out of me. I am currently going through the motions and feeling NOTHING. My soul is dormant. Hibernating. Hiding from this grayness. I want so badly to sleep and eat and maybe watch some movies under a heated blanket and sleep some more. I don’t want to wake up in the mornings, go to work, drive the kids around, cook or clean. I am physically and emotionally drained. There is simply nothing left here.


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