meditations of a blueberry

A little over 9 years ago, I was laughing and rolling my eyes when my friend told me about this website called "Facebook." "Like I'd join that," I said. "I will stick with MySpace." Little did I know. Shortly after that conversation, I gave in and joined when I was at the university curriculum lab procrastinating doing a project. Soon the addiction took over. And before I knew it, everyone I knew was on Facebook, even my Nana. Now, Facebook has evolved into this amazing tool to be used to keep in touch and to feel like part of a community. But there does come a price. Sometimes we share openly and honestly about our lives, sometimes we don't. Sometimes we share only the good parts of our lives, creating this illusion that everything is perfect in our world. This not only hurts others as they inevitably compare their lives to a nonexistent perfect life, but ourselves as we are not being open with our lives. This is why I insist on being an open

This morning I awoke to light peeking in through the curtains, the smell of bacon wafting upstairs, the sound of children's voices echoing throughout my kitchen, and the soft touch of a baby's hand caressing my face. When I got up, I was greeted with excited voices saying "Mommy!" as they ran to give me a hug. I have never been a morning person (possibly an understatement if you ask my mom and dad), but these moments where my children run to me almost make me one (almost...coffee brings me the rest of the way). Not every morning is like this, but today was. This Thanksgiving weekend we have snow. A fair amount of snow. Enough to pull out the sleds for the kids to pull each other around in. Normally, I feel disgust or annoyance at the first snow, especially when it comes before Halloween. But this year, watching them outside playing (interspersed with the usual sibling fighting and screaming) while the smell of pumpkin pie wafts past me, I feel grateful. Grateful for