I didn’t want it to come but it came anyway.  I worried about how I’d get everything done in 3 days. There was no way to stop it.

Christmas was coming; whether I wanted it to or not.

I’ve always loved the holiday season, but in the last few years with traumatic events having occured in December, I find myself bracing against it. It’s as if my body remembers even though my mind tries it’s best to forget. This year in particular was hard and I wasn’t aware until right up to the time of celebration

We’d had a crazy year and I found myself compartmentalizing so many things.

As a hairdresser it’s the busiest time of year and for the last few, my husband and I had waited until the last 3 or 4 days before Christmas to shop. Bills come first and we never know exactly how much money we’ll make…..being self employed. Obviously that determines how much we’ll spend.

We had just moved in with his parents in October after a really rough year and a half. The responsibility of not having to decorate was a relief.  I’ve always felt that as a mother and a wife it’s my job to set the tone. I make the holiday by the atmosphere I create.

None of that would be my doing. I was exempt and trying to escape into my job.

I worked up until December 21st and J and I planned on knocking out all of our shopping in a few days. This is very easy for me.

I don’t go shopping; I go getting. When I leave the house I already know where I’m going and what I’m going to buy.

The youngest boy had been sick with what I thought was a cold so he’d been home with Grandma while I went to work and when he ceased to get better I became suspiscious. His illness had gone on for 4 days…too long for just a sore throat and a cold. The first morning I was off I asked him if I could look in his throat and it was clearly obvious. Strep.

I hauled him off to the doctor….I didn’t tell him he’d be swabbed. He was pissed………..got his medication and brought him home.

Christmas Eve came and we were planning to celebrate at my bother’s house where my parents would be staying as they come from out of town. But, our house has always been the one where we celebrate the holidays. It’s usually my mom and I that prepare the food together …………she and I play a thing I call “cocktails around the world”……..and they stay at our house.

This has been the way we’ve doing it for years. At the time I was relieved to not have all that hanging over my head. I thought this was a good thing.

Until Christmas Eve came.

That afternoon, my oldest son told me he wasn’t feeling well either and that he wasn’t sure he would be going with us to my brother’s house.

I completely understood as I had a sore throat as well. As we gathered everyone up to leave, he decided to come and we all barreled into my family’s celebration.

I was aware I didn’t feel well, but I had stuff to do and I knew I’d be able to sleep eventually.

Dinner was delicious and my brother and sister-in-law’s house was beautifully decorated. Once everyone had finished eating we went into the living room and my parents and my brother’s family proceeded to shower my boys with gifts. This was very unexpected. We’d agreed years ago that we wouldn’t exchange presents. I hadn’t brought a thing.  I felt terrible and embarrassed.

I was still shell shocked from the last 18 months barely thinking about anything except what had to be done.

It came time to leave as my oldest was feeling very poorly by then and it was time for my youngest’s next dose of antibiotics…….. I’d left them in the fridge at home.

As I got up from the couch to go hug and thank my brother, I walked past their Christmas tree.

He is by far one of the sweetest men I know….2nd to my husband……and I think he knew what was going on with me even if I didn’t.

I turned as my mom came over to me and I looked at the tree and started to say, “I miss my own tree. I miss having my own house.”

The second sentence came out completely garbled with tears. They poured down hitting me like a ton of bricks. I had not even thought about anything to do with the holiday. Truth is I hadn’t let myself think about Christmas because I didn’t really want it to come. Different from the previous years. Even different from the year when my boys were so graciously given money from an anonymous person.

This year I had tried to numb myself. To not feel. Maybe I thought if I did that I could ignore the festivities and not feel the losses that I hadn’t let myself deal with.

Ones that had occured 6 years before.

Funny when you stop running from feelings they find you, crashing like a wave over your head. I know I’m being vague but I haven’t revealed any of those things in writing……..guess I’m waiting for the right time to tackle that subject.

I didn’t want the holiday to come. Plain and simple. I didn’t want to do it because none of the particulars were right. Nothing was how I knew it. None of my own decorations or ornaments were present….all the things I’ve collect throughout the years. None of those things were in the house we were calling home. I wanted to skip everything and fast forward to January.

But the gift of Christmas is just that. A gift.

I wasn’t ready to receive it and God (the Universe, whatever you want to believe) was profoundly patient in waiting for me to accept it. Waiting for me to be ready to understand that this gift didn’t require anything in return.

Even when I felt I had nothing left of me to give.

The gift of being loved on by my parents and the rest of my immediate family. Being cocooned……..having a soft place to land until I could properly acknowledge what He already knew. I was sad and in mourning. I had done my very best to ignore it, stuffing it down amidst the chaos and work that had become my life.

The gift of Christmas, I believe, is love. Unconditional love.

I didn’t want Christmas to come but it did. It came without bells, without bows because a gift of that size cannot possibly be contained in a box……….

 

 

 

No Comments | In: My crazy life | | #

The day started like any other day.

Checked my Twitter feed, looked at Facebook, took my happy pill and went to work .

I’m a hairdresser.

On Thursdays I have two standing shampoo/ blow dry appointments; the first of which is my teeny tiny little Mrs. B.

She’s a million years old, chooses not wear her hearing aids when she comes to see me and shuffles when she walks.

 

Like baby step shuffles.

 

I have an entire hour to do what would truthfully about 25 mins but, because her size is such a challenge I allow more time.

She is the size of a small child……….. minature……..next to her I look like an effing amazon………and I’m only 5’3 1/2.

 

In order to wash her hair, I need 10 towels to boost her up and plastic protective gear just to keep from completely baptizing her every week. She’d be soaked to her waist without all the preparations.

 

On this particular day, It was eleven-thirty and she hadn’t shown up yet. I worry when she does this……… thinking something’s happened to her…………….. She’s OLD, people! All kinds of things could happen!

 

I didn’t realize she’d called the front desk telling our receptionist that she had an appointment with me at one o’clock.

She has an appointment at eleven o’clock. Every effing week. It does not change.

 

“Actually Mrs B”‘. …the receptionist knows her voice…..”your appointment is at eleven o’clock. Which is right now.”

” Oh. I don’t think I’m gonna make it but, I’m not sure.”

“Well, should I reschedule your time?”

“I’m noooooot sure. I’ll call you back…”

I went up to the front desk and the receptionist says to me, “She may or may not come.”

 

 Um, ookaaaay. I had her booked for color and she was already sporting some gigantic roots on her itty bitty head. This would also mean she wouldn’t be getting her hair washed if she didn’t show up.

 

For the record, little old ladies don’t get dirty; they get dusty…………………not even kidding.

 

Within 30 minutes after the call she’d made, Mrs. B shows up in the lobby of the salon. I go up to greet her and she tells me she’s so happy I could still take her……….. knowing how late she is.

She keeps stopping while she’s talking.

 

I’m trying my best to rush her little body to my chair as I remind her that she’s having color.

I race into the dispensary to mix her color as fast as I can and I begin applying while she tells me about the antics of her fat little toosie roll of a dog…..…...which is apparently, is why she’s late.

I guess the damn dog wouldn’t go out and do her business because it had been raining and it didn’t want to get its paws wet.

 

Dude. Really? I guess when you’re 90 this is a huge crisis.

 

 

I leave her to sit while her color developes, but this is a tricky situation. She falls asleep if she has to sit any length of time.

Actually she falls asleep while I blow dry her hair. Every friggin’ week.

I don’t know why I’m surprised by this. She literally CANNOT hear, so it’s not like the blowdryer is loud or anything.

 

The time comes to wash her hair and I’m watching the clock because I have 15 mins to wash out her color and blow her dry. This is gonna run me late, but if I’m lucky I’ll only be about 10 minutes behind.

Hair is washed, I get her settled in my chair and she proceeds to fall asleep almost immediately.

 

 

Deep breath, I can do this. Just nudge her head a little and she’ll wake up.

 

 

I’m trying to hurry and she’s OUT Freaking COLD…….I mean like so soundly asleep that her head is hanging.

 

SH*T!

 

I put my blowdryer down and pick up her head putting both hands on either side. And she’s up.

 

For about 30 seconds.

 

Then, thwap……..head’s down again. At this point I’m a little concerned about whiplash.

 

I pick up her little noggin and try to work as fast as possible so I can get her out of my chair. No sooner do I do this that her head flops to the side and I’m getting totally frustrated and sweating profusely. I have to put my dryer down every single time I pick up her head.

She’s down.

Again.

 

This time I can’t get her to keep her head up at all and I feel panic run through me like and electrical shock.

 

 Oh. My. Gawd!!!!!!! 

 

 SHE”S DEAD!!!!!!!

Oh wait, don’t panic I think I see her breathing.

 Okay. Okay. Everything’s okay……

 

Now I’ve got one hand on her forehead propping her up and the blow dryer in the other because I HAVE TO FINISH!!!  My next client is due in 5 minutes!

I  look around and almost start laughing out of sheer frustration. Everyone in the salon is concentrating on their own work.

 

 

Which is good, I guess. I mean, that’s what you want as a client, right?

 

 

Not one single solitary soul sees what is going on in my chair. And all I can think is…..

 

THIS IS SO FREAKING UNBELIEVEABLE!!!!

I‘m in HELLLLLL!!!!! SOMEBODY HELP ME!!! Or at the very least, look up and commiserate!

 

 

Anybody???

 

 

My hand to her forehead must have perked her up a little because I have just enough time to bump the ends of her tiny bob  hairdo with my curling iron. Without burning her.

 

 

Yes folks, I’m a pro.

 

 

I apply some pomade, quickly spray her, rip off my styling cape……..and she wakes up.

“Oh, are you done? Already? That was soooooo relaxing.”

 

No sh*t.

 

She emits a little giggle and stands up to go change back into her sweater.

 

 

Today, I notice she tips me a little more then usual.  I tell her I’ll see her next week and off she shuffles out of the salon.

I figuratively pick myself up off the floor from the stress of it all and hope she comes in better rested next week.

 

 

 

Side note: This is not an exagerated story. It really honest to God happened; which makes it even more funny.

My husband almost peed when I told about it…..

 

BUT  truly, all kidding aside…..this little lady is so very kind and downright cute in her tinyness. It’s a priviledge to do her hair every week as I’m pretty sure she’s not long for this world.

 

 

She still drives her own car.

 

 

 

 

 

2 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: dirty hair, elderly clients, hair salons, stressful situations. | #

I’m not a member of the Walton family but I play a cohabitator in real life.

We live with my husband’s parents.

It was a rough decision but I was the one pushed for it. It was my idea. With our businesses struggling we were sinking fast and I wanted a chance to breathe.

We moved in, cluttering and stretching out their pretty little house.

Do they have room for us, you ask?

No. Not even close. But they made room for us. Without batting an eye.

Closets were cleared, drawers were emptied and air mattresses were purchased. We overflowed our storage unit and brought boxes and boxes to their house to keep. The garage is a maze of our belongings. …

40 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: communication issues, kids, Living with the parents. | #

Four years ago things began to turn bad.

Two years ago things had progressed to really, really bad.

The economy had nailed us.

My husband and I have been self employed all of our adult lives……. a hairdresser and a custom cabinetmaker

And………. as the economy fell so did we. Hard.

Christmas was approaching in 2009 and I refused to let myself even ponder how we would provide gifts for our 3 boys.

They knew that money was tight…..something I wish they had no knowledge of…………….

They weren’t expecting much. …

2 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: anonymous giving, Christmas, hardship. | #

 

As little boys my older two were so different. We lived in a neighborhood where there were a lot of little kids. This was awesome. They had playmates right within reach. I loved it.

My oldest boy was the calm, reasonable, compliant one and my second one was difficult. He was the one who argued. He was oppositional and sometimes not super fun to be around.

I knew when he was little something was different about him and by 3rd grade it was confirmed. He had ADHD.

Not a death sentence; a learning disability.

Like I said, we lived in this smallish neighborhood where our kids were all essentially the same age. At this point in my mothering career I began to recognize the nuances of insecurity in my fellow mommies. It’s no surprise that when so much of ourselves is invested into our parenting, our self worth gets shaky. …

5 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: ADHD, motherhood, other mother's insecurities, self esteem. | #

When my middle son was in kindergarten I suspected something was up. He had such a hard time trying to focus on his homework. Part of me attributed this to the fact that he was young for his grade and therefore was just a little immature……. The other part suspected something more.

He managed to make it through kindergarten but each year the struggle to complete his homework became more pronounced and his teachers all made the same comment.

“Mrs. Gallagher, C is having some difficulties. He daydreams quite a bit and he spends most of  his recess finishing the work the students do in class.”

By the time he was in 3rd grade I knew in my heart that my son had Attention Deficit Disorder.

C wasn’t necessarily hyper, he was more classically inattentive. He could quietly slide under a desk during class with out the teacher even noticing. He wasn’t disruptive he simply couldn’t pay attention.

While doing his homework after school, I would have him sit at the table in the kitchen so I could prompt him to stay focused.

I wish I’d known to let him take a break and run around instead of making him start on his work immediately after school. Hindsight tells me he needed to get his wiggles out, but I was too over-focused on getting him to obey me and complete his work.

 I didn’t understand what he really needed.

I was concentrating too hard on what I thought was necessary.  I felt C needed to get his homework done in a timely manner and I was determined to make that happen.

After 3 plus hours of homework both of us were usually reduced to tears. Every night. This was the routine for us. I knew children inherently want to please their parents and figures of authority, and he wasn’t getting a thing out of not completing his work at home. I wasn’t positively reinforcing his bad behavior. There was no reward in carrying on for 3 hours. It just didn’t add up.

He got plenty of attention otherwise so this wasn’t an attempt at one on one time with me. He was exhausted and I knew it

Thank goodness, C’s 3rd grade teacher was very in tune to what was going on with him. I hadn’t had any teacher even mention ADHD let alone admit he may have a problem. Each teacher prior to that point had all thought he was young and immature.

I’d read enough on the subject and I was pretty sure of what was going on in my little boy’s head. I just needed to get someone to listen to me. I wanted him tested at school but that’s no small feat to accomplish. It takes the right teacher to convince the school district to allow an assessment to take place.

Praise God, C had that teacher.

Test itself is actually a survey that my husband, C’s teacher, and I had to fill out. It asks questions about the student and the one completing the survey has to rate the behavior………..frequently, sometimes, and seldom.

During the process there were two meetings with the principal, his teacher, the learning specialist and the district psychologist. The initial meeting was to pinpoint the problem with my son and get some idea of what was suspected to be the cause of his struggles. Each of the professionals in that room were very supportive and truly listened to me; all except one.

The school district psychologist asked me about my older son, who happened to be a very good student and then insinuated that I was seeking help because my #2 son wasn’t a carbon copy.  He implied that I was annoyed he required more time from me.

Really?

I’m positive he could feel my contempt for him from across the room. I was infuriated, but I knew that there was indeed something wrong with C and the test would show it. The truth would make itself known; I just had to be patient.

And, lo and behold, once the questionnaire was evaluated the diagnosis was a plain as day. At the next meeting the idiot school psychologist had to eat his words. Right in front of me. Victory.

I tried limiting his sugar intake.  No caffeine. We watched out for foods that had red dye in them. I tried supplements. For him, nothing worked.

The course we chose to take is not always a popular one.

My husband wasn’t super excited about treating C with medication, but he allowed me to look into it. He himself has the disorder as well as my brother and my sister. I watched first hand as my brother struggled throughout school because they didn’t recognize his learning disability. I didn’t want that to happen to my son.

I wanted him to feel successful and capable. He was so smart but when you can’t get things onto paper you give up trying. I worried his self esteem would suffer greatly due to his inability to do well in school……….. And, once he got to that point, I was concerned he wouldn’t continue to try…….that he’d simply give up.

I couldn’t let that happen.

I made an appointment to see the pediatrician for the next step in treatment. As advised by the doctor, we went with a low dosage of a medication to start C out on to see what worked best.

What happened after that was a miracle to me.

The first morning C took his medication I was really nervous. I kept picturing my little boy in spontaneous combustion. I had him eat his breakfast first and then he took the tablet.

He must have felt my anxiety because he was anxious as well. I told him everything would be okay and we walked to school. He mentioned that his stomach felt funny but from the things he said, I knew it didn’t hurt so I continued to encourage him as we walked to school.

I heard nothing all day and at dismissal I went to pick up the boys from school.

Once at home he told me what his morning was like.

“Mommy in class I was very quiet and my friend Austin asked me if I was okay. I told him I was but that my stomach felt funny. He asked me if I wanted to tell the teacher and I said, no. Then he asked if I wanted to call my mom but I told him, No, because she won’t do anything.”

“Mommy,” he said looking at me with his crystal blue eyes, “I wanted to say to him, I just need a friend.”

That he could put that into words was amazing to me. My eight year old little boy. I’d never heard him talk that way before; about feelings. He’d never been able to express himself that completely.

I turned to him and stood him on our kitchen chair so that he could be eye to eye with me. Tears were streaming down my face. In his short little life we’d had plenty of run ins. From the time he was born it seemed he’d always hung on to me with one hand and pushed me away with the other. His inability to focus caused his anxiety to go through the roof. His brain was always running on on super-speed. I’ve had to be the target in order for him to decompress.

For him to be able to really talk to me was the best gift ever.

“Sweetheart,’ I said, “I promise you from this day forward your life is going to change.”

“Mommy, my life already changed when you told my teacher there was something wrong.”

 

Fast forward. C is now 17. School has still been bit of a struggle, but with help of a variation of an IEP and medication he has managed to reach his senior year of high school. Medication for him hasn’t been a cure-all and there were many years as a young boy that behavior modification came into play. We have done the best we could with the information we were given. Not everyone would agree with how we chose to handle his disorder, but for us, this has been the best way.

 

3 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: ADHD, changing lives, focusing, homework trouble, knowing something's wrong, learning disabilities, medication, tears. | #

“You should be a stand up comedian.”

Cool, but I’d never make a dime……besides I’d only crack myself up and then  inadvertently pee my pants…..which people probably wouldn’t find very funny……..

“You know Karyn, you only have about 5 good days a month.”

My husband.  Yeah, the one who values me for my brain, although probably not my hormones……….thanks sweetie……jerk…………hope you’re in on one of those days………….

“Are you from Texas? Because you look like you should be from Texas.”

I was meeting some girlfriends at a restaurant for a birthday celebration and this would be a mix of quite a few diferent people; many I didn’t know.

I no sooner walk in and sit down when this little snip of a chick says this to me.

Uh, for reals? Have another tequila shot, Missy. We say these things to strangers? I think not……..

That was a backhanded b*tch-slap of a compliment……..which I didn’t find too terribly complimentary. Seriously. What constitutes looking like a friggin Texan. Hell, my hair isn’t even that big………..

“Oh Karyn, should have been a governor’s wife.”

What, because I look like the kind of woman who’d put up with my husband sleeping with the help?

I totally get how that happens, I mean I understand……..maybe mama is a cold fish or something………..but I’d probably be a teensy bit irate, do something irrational…..thereby making it not too super cool to be a governors wife…

Arnold was still in office at the time. So thank you, but no thank you.

Of course the money from the divorce would be pretty sweet.

“You have the face of a movie star.”

A delusional old lady with a profoundly lazy eye .

I couldn’t figure out A, who she was talking to and B, which eye was looking where.

At 14 years of age, this may have very well been my first experience with someone touched by Alzheimer’s disease. I was puzzled.

I was at the height of my awkward stage. Not cute.

And, probably the beginning of me learning to smile when I don’t know what else to do…………then looking like an idiot so as not to appear rude.

I get my manners from my mother.

I think we were at the zoo, which explains a lot……..

When I said she was old I meant OLD. Bless her little lazy-eyed heart.

and…………..obviously it didn’t mean sh*t because I became a hair dresser…………

“Karyn has NEVER had a weight problem!

NOT an old boyfriend, but a friend from high school upon seeing me after 28 years. Once again, thank you Facebook…….I sound like a stalker don’t I?

Saaweeet! But uh, how in the world would he know?

He hadn’t seen me in 28 years.

I found my friend T and we made arrangements to get together. The four of us had a great time…T’s wife and my husband and the 2 of us. Wait that sounds funny…I mean he and his wife and me and my husband. Together but not together…..

While we were having drinks somehow the conversation turned to my and T’s high school years. My husband didn’t go to school with me so it was fun to have someone there who knew me “when”.

Hell, I’ve had 3 kids I’ve been fat plenty of times.

My husband of course, has been with me all this time so he knows how I’ve changed over the years. He thinks my life didn’t even start til he met me.

That’s okay Babe, think whatever you want…….

 

2 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: a governor's wife, alzheimer's, cold fish, delusional, face of a movie star, Facebook, hairdresser, hormones, lazy eye, school, stand up comedian, tequila shots, Texas big hair. | #

-”You rook rike Hiraly Crinton.”

Hmmmmmmmmm? Pardon?

I’m sorry, were you talking to me?
Thank you little Asian man working in a clothing store in extremely broken English.

Hiraly. Hiraly. Um, no?

 

I stood there totally puzzled smiling like an idiot because I didn’t want to appear rude. I squinted my eyes shaking my head with my hands up like we were playing charades. He elaborated by pointing at my hair. I have a hairstyle like someone named Hiraly? Wtf?

Oooh……H-i-l-a-r-y!  Hilary Clinton……I get it.

 

Hey……..wait a minute. She’s not exactly a looker. And I’m at least 15 years YOUNGER! Hilary. Huh. Really? Never heard that one before. This can’t be good.

 

My only consolation was that he was relatively new to our country, so maybe, oh crap, I don’t know …..
I wasn’t flattered.

No Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: accents, misunderstanding. | #

Don’t you recognize me?

I’m the girl that’s always smiling out in public……….the one who’s put together.

Every hair in place .

Make up impeccably applied so as not to attract attention.

I’m helpful and kind putting my best foot forward. Convincing enough so that no one will give me a second look. I’m in complete control and wishing myself into invisibility.

If I appear to be perfectly fine then maybe no one will guess.

I can fade into the wall.

Where no one can see who I really am.

 

I’m the girl who is suffocating under 25 feet of water….walking through waist- high mud.

I’m the one who feels saddness like a wet blanket flung over my shoulders.

My heart beats too fast to be healthy and I have an elephant sitting on my chest making it hard to breathe.

I smile working through it so no one will know how bad I feel.

I’m the girl who uses twice as much energy to work through a bad day…………waiting until I can get into my car turn the music up drowning out the sound of my own voice in my head.

I’m the one who’s tears burn behind my eyes on days when I can’t compose myself.

 

Do you know who I am?

I’m yet another face of depression……..

2 Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: anxiety, Depression, trying to hide. | #

My Dear precious boys,

I  have loved you from the moment I learned of your existence. Immediately, so fiercely attached I couldn’t contain my happiness. It poured out of me as if nothing up to that point in my life has ever made so much sense or held so much importance……..

         Woe be to the person who ever bumped into me while I was carrying any of you. I would become downright indignant and practically hiss like a snake……yeah, I know, pretty….

Once I knew of you, I was never alone again. And I loved that while I carried you, each  of you were all mine. For nine months I didn’t have to share.

My heart swells to the size of Texas when I think of you three. I will forever be umbillically connected even though you’re seventeen, eighteen and a half, and almost twelve. When you’re not with me I can feel your absence as an emptiness in the pit of my stomach…believe me I have this feeling a lot especially now that you’re older……..

As different as you all are, my pregnancies and deliveries were very similar. Dad and I have always remarked on what fun we had the days you each came into this world.

   Jack,

The day you were born your dad screamed so loud I’m sure the entire maternity ward heard it. We believed you were going to be a girl and the best part was the surprise that you were a boy…..ultrasounds were not super clear then and the doctor wasn’t really looking at your “parts” he was checking the important things…..

What an incredibly peaceful baby you were. Thank goodness. You made it so easy on your dad and me. So completely contented, we’d pinch ourselves……and sometimes you….to see if this life we’d been given was real.

  Cole,

When you emerged you cried with a tiny quivering chin for a least five minutes….taking intermittent breaks and starting up again as if you realized this was not  quite what you were expecting. My butterball baby who grew up to be a string bean. As an infant there wasn’t one day that you didn’t have smile on your face…once you passed the colicky stage…thank God we all survived that.

  Chris,

You didn’t make a peep when you were born. You looked around like you were completely aware of your surroundings. I’d never seen anything like it. I even asked the doctor to make you cry so that I knew you were okay.

You obliged. I was relieved.

You were by far our easiest baby. Happy to be wherever we were going and when tired, you slept like no other child we’d had before.

As each of you get older my wish for you is that you realized how incredible you are. You are unique and special.

I love you, not because you’re beautiful……..although I believe you are…. and not because you’re smart……….although I also believe you are.

I love you so much because you are mine.

Nothing will ever change that.

As you embark on your separate journeys; Jack to junior college, Cole as a senior in high school and Chris a sixth grader and first year of middle school….I want to instill in you a self confidence so strong that you will be willing to try any new thing presented to you.

Self confidence does not come from thinking you’re better than everyone else. Self confidence comes from knowing you’re not and being willing to try anyway.

“Get big in yourself” is common thing I say to you. Now is the time to exercise that concept. It will not come from material things.

It comes from believing in who you are.

You are worthy, special, and valued.

You were made that way.

I’m so honored to be the mama of three wonderful boys and I’m astounded that someone somewhere entrusted me to do so.

Jack, Cole and Chris, I love you with all my heart and soul,

Xoxoxox, Mom

Karyn Gallagher is a mother of 3 boys, a blogger/writer and a wife who’s been married to the same great guy for 21 years. While her main source of income is hairdressing; her primary objective is to deliver her children safely into adulthood relatively unscathed. She loves to blog because no one gives a rat’s ass what she has to say at home…and luckily no one she lives with reads. She writes what she wants and resides in Southern California.

2 Responses to “Guest Post – A Letter To My Children”   

1. 
   jetts31 says…

   I’m stealing your line…”get big in yourself”. Such a fantastic credo and fantastic tribute to your 3 boys.  Bravo.

    

2. 
   diaper_dad says…

   Again…Jimmy’s coming and saying stuff better than I can.

   So, DITTO!

 

Twitter: @analogyqueen

 

 

 

 

No Comments | In: My crazy life | tags: a parent's devotion, encouragement, Love for a child. | #