My word for 2019

It’s that time of year.  Resolutions and planning.  If you are into that sort of thing.  (I am into that sort of thing.)  If you don’t think January is an arbitrary start time.  If you find planning and goal setting helpful.

I initially thought that this would not be a big goal year for me.  We’re having a baby any day now.  My main goal is enjoying the baby and figuring out how three kids works.  Seeing if we can move from surviving to thriving in this new scenario.

BUT, after some discussion with a fellow resolution loving friend, I started to think that this could be EXACTLY the time to have some clear goals.  Things are going to get a little crazy.  If there is anything I can be doing to clarify mission, that is probably good.

I put together some priorities for the year and noticed a theme.  Are you ready for the word?  It’s . . .

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How this pregnancy has been different

I forgot how hard this is.  How every last day of pregnancy lasts a year.  (I’m 39 weeks tomorrow.)  At this point, it just seems like a cruel joke.  There is no baby.  I’m just pregnant now and will be forever and this is my life now.

OK, enough wallowing.  I know we’ll get to meet our little guy AT SOME POINT.  Before we get into the newborn haze and I block all of this out, I’ve been reflecting on how this pregnancy has been different than the first two.  Both on what I’ve done differently and how I’ve felt.

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#BreaktheStigma

Back this spring, I mentioned that I’d been diagnosed with anxiety, and I was trying to decide how to proceed on that.  You’ll recall that I was REALLY torn on whether I should take medication.

Fast forward to now.  I didn’t end up taking any medication.  I did do some sessions of cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT).

Do I have a ways to go?  Sure.  Do I feel better?  Absolutely.

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Catching up

Hi friends.  I know it’s been quiet around here lately.  I’d like to say that will get better, but with the kids out of school in a few days, all bets are off.

This is what we’ve been up to lately.

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Tell me your inside jokes

I don’t remember what we were reading, but some book referenced inside jokes.  Inevitably, “Mom, what’s an inside joke?”

Hmm.  You know, it’s that thing where something is funny to you that isn’t funny to other people.  Uh, because context.  Because they weren’t there when something happened.  Because other people aren’t in on the joke.  (Or some other similarly cogent explanation.)

Like . . . I scratched my head for examples . . . when . . .

But after fumbling, I realized our family does have inside “jokes,” and I’m guessing yours does too.  These are some of ours.

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