I need your help. I am the parent of a teenage girl and lately it’s been hard work teaching her to ignore the voices of the world—voices that say act like this, look like this, think like this; be better, brighter, thinner, smarter!
How do I teach her to listen to the whisper from within when outside voices are so loud and persuasive?
My plan today was to write about how much fun it’s been meeting fellow She Writes Press authors. There are just over 300, seventeen who live in Chicago. In the last few weeks, I’ve been to two book release events and a social gathering where I’ve reveled in having nerdy author conversations about everything from galley proofs to audiobook technology to stage fright—conversations that, like all good ones, translate to many different life experiences. I wanted to write about some “aha!” moments I’ve had because of these connections.
But that blog will have to wait.
Because when I climbed into my car to head to Michigan this morning for a visit with my mom, something else climbed in with me.
In honor of Mother’s Day (and due to a very busy week), I decided to re-run this blog from last February. This is for anyone who needs to be reminded that you’re doing a helluva job.
These days, being a mother requires the memory of an elephant—and the thick skin of one too. Thanks to a recent scene with my 15-year-old son, I won’t soon forget that most of us are simply lumbering our way through parenthood, and life.
Boys, boys, boys… They’ve been a recurring theme this week. Just before my two teenage boys returned from a long vacation, I was at a party where two little boys were jumping and running and entertaining all of us with paper airplanes. We started talking about the unique exuberance of boys, reminiscing on everything from wrestling matches between brothers to the obsession that unites all boys: trucks.
I shared that my one of my oldest son’s first words was backhoe.
These days, being a mother requires the memory of an elephant—and the thick skin of one too. Thanks to a recent scene with my 15-year-old son, I won’t soon forget that most of us are simply lumbering our way through parenthood, and life.
While my son was at school I was supposed to drop his laptop off at his dad’s house, but I was engrossed in listening to a book-on-tape while driving across town, and it completely slipped my mind.
👉 Enjoy dedicated writing space just steps from Lake Michigan
👉 Benefit from one-on-one developmental editing sessions
