My Jenn-eration

Sometimes when I write I don’t know where to start which is silly because obviously I should start at the beginning. But I’m just going to cut to the chase here because adult attention spans are shockingly short nowadays and before someone sends you that next BuzzFeed quiz (which flavor of microwave popcorn are you anyway?) I want to be sure you catch this one simple point. Your children are amazing. AMAZING. I think it’s easy to forget this stuff sometimes as parents. We get fed a ridiculous amount of messages every single day from pretty much every single person with a computer who thinks they can tell us what we should do or shouldn’t do as a parent: These are the 4 things you needed to do YESTERDAY to raise a happy child. Stop feeding your child these 6 things to ensure your kid is healthy. Want your kid to love you? Be sure to say these 19 things to your kid every morning. Honestly, I do believe that all of this comes from a good place. That we all just went happy and he...

The windows are open and a steady evening rain is starting to fall. There are dishes and laundry and toys as far as the eye can see. For the first time in 14 hours, the house is quiet. At first the quiet unsettles me. A round of bed and crib checks before I can fully let out that breath I’ve been holding in all day long. Three very different very bright, fiery red heads are all finally resting. For some reason, I am amazed when they sleep. I think it is because they are so curious about every single moment and breakfast cereal and bath bubbles and pirates and addition and hot dogs and weddings and Barbies and basketball, that I am actually shocked when they allow themselves any time at all to just rest. I wonder if their dreams at night are filled with more of these questions. Already the boy, the preschooler, the baby, they have such distinct personalities. I think about what I teach them during the day: use the napkin, wash your hands, brush your teeth, tie your shoes. ...

Each night as my husband and I fall into bed we are literally out of breath but we don't know why. Life has us on some sort of frantic treadmill that is ironically only making me fatter. We are stressed and rushed. I always wonder what we are working so hard to rush for. Death? Retirement? If only we can get through this day, this week, this latest bout of sick or sleepless kids. At what point do we stop "getting through" and just start living? Perhaps somewhat related and perhaps not I am thinking about this as I stare at a photo I smuggled out of my father's house during our vacation. Unlike many of the old family photos, I've never seen this one. I can tell it predates me, and captures my father's mother's birthday one year. His family is gathered around a carefully set table in our living room. I can see that my mother has one of her good tablecloths on the table that she definitely ironed. There is a pot of coffee in the middle and carefully set...

Freshly back from our trip to Florida, I am staring at some old family photos my father encouraged me to take with me. In the picture, we are in a lake not far from where I live now. My mother has a 6 year old, a 5 year old, and a 1 year old that she is holding on to tightly in the water. She is 34 years old. In so many different ways, she is me; that is, the “me” that I am now. I relate to the woman in this photo, not as my mother but almost as a friend, a peer. I know we would connect and understand many of the same challenges we each face on a day to day basis. She smiles coyly in the photo, and I know she has no way of knowing (for how could she) that she gets just 30 years with that baby in her arms. No more, no less. I feel cheated for her. As I think of my own children, 30 years feels like it would never be enough. Of course I can’t think of a number that would be enough, enough time to feel like I had my fill of their love, their humor, their sweet and almost always ...