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The Magic of Children
Holiday Stories from the Community
The result: a wonderful, magical memory of a shared family experience. She loved climbing the rocks (spotted by us, of course) and thought she could "see all the way to her Grandma in Michigan's house" when we reached the summit. She handed out the sandwiches and was very proud when some very surprised climbers told her what a "big girl" and how strong she was. It was wonderful for her self-esteem; she learned about nature, how to respect other nature lovers and the trail when in the outdoors and that with planning, patience and perseverance – she can tackle really big things!
By Janna Mauldin Heiner
Before motherhood, I was somebody.
Somebody else.
She wrote thoughtful essays and killer theses. She never used semi-intelligible pseude-words like "ba ba" and "Nukkie." She carried a briefcase to press conferences, instead of dragging a diaper bag to the mall.
Things are different now. Life with the boys is hectic and heartbreaking and exhausting. The woman I used to be couldn't hack it. She's long gone. Sometimes it seems she's only left a tired, hollow shell.
But after the daily chaos, after goodnight kisses, in the sudden strange silence, I know. There's more inside me then there ever was when I was somebody else. And in the silence, I write. About who I was, about who I am now and why. It helps me see clearly. My boys – and their sister growing inside me – are making somebody of me.
Somebody better than I could ever have made of myself.
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