I had a realization tonight as I reflected on our family's journey. We've lived in 5 different areas now: Rochester, NY; Washington DC/NOVA; Charlottesville, VA; Gainesville, FL; and finally, Elizabethton, TN.
I am feeling very grateful these days: for our new home, for how well our children are adjusting to yet another move, and for the enjoyment I experience from watching them grow.
It really seems like with every move we've made, things get better and better.
But I realized that this trend isn't a result of moving or that the new place was an actual improvement over the previous location. Also, people are people everywhere you go to - there are awesome, amazing people and people who you won't jive with so much wherever you live.
So what is it?
It hit me: it's us. We are better.
If one lives life fully - growing, learning, connecting, changing, learning, striving... all the things that make this life so worthwhile - then inevitably life tends to get sweeter too.
Is it a straight line? Are things always amazing? Of course not! But the peace that has been permeating our home and life this Fall is a result of many, many little choices made over the years and of continuing to tinker with our habits as individuals and as a family - adding new things, releasing those that aren't so great for us anymore.
If we had stayed in our hometown our whole lives, it would have been the most amazing place we every lived and it would have been good and right and gotten better with the years for this same reason. Because we would have changed and grown.
It's not where you are that matters so much as WHO you are.
ps I don't regret any of our moves. I do feel sadness over uprooting our children so many times. But we have kept communications very open and they are forgiving. It may not be ideal, but it is our journey and man, I love it so much!
This was my eulogy to my dad at his memorial service, July 11, 2023. You can watch the YouTube video or read the text below.
Hello and Welcome! Thank you for showing up here today to celebrate the life and legacy of my dad – Gerald Charles Damaske – known to friends and family as Gerry.
I have a bit of a challenge today. You see – this guy fit into 69 years what many would take 2 lifetimes OR MORE to accomplish. So, I have a favor to ask. Please forgive me if I go on and on about my dad for a bit. Maybe you can look at this as an exercise in re-extending your attention span – I know mine has shortened a bit recently with all these modern things like social media and whatnot! For my part – I promise to try and make this interesting. I hope this deal is agreeable to you, but if it isn’t – well, too bad I guess! You’re stuck here listening to me! 😊
I’m going to share with you the mind, body and spirit of my dad – Gerry, aka Chicken Man, Big D, Dad and the coolest Grandpa around.
We’re going to start right in the middle with dad’s Body –Why? Because this is the area I know the most about, and you probably do too. Dad lived life from his body. What do I mean by that? He wholly inhabited his body and used it to achieve maximum results, to live his life as fully as possible. Dad was physically large, standing at 6’ 5” tall. Small children had to crane their necks to peer at his face. When I forgot my picture order form and money in kindergarten, I cried and cried (my face is red and puffy in that first school picture) but I needn’t have fretted. My dad came to the rescue. When my knight in shining armor arrived, picture order form in hand, he had a room full of tiny, adorable 5 year olds staring up at him mouths slightly ajar. Later many classmates would tell me they remembered that moment and that my dad seemed like a giant! One of my favorite baby pictures of Marisol, his first grandchild, is of her doing this same thing when she’s about one year old, her tiny head tilted as far back as she could, gazing quizzically up at her grandpa’s face. A memory of our 3rd child saying “It’s a giant, it’s a giant!” over and over again when mom and dad arrived to visit is especially poignant now, because Carter no longer speaks. More on that later.
When your eyes finally reached his face you would find a welcoming smile – I can’t tell you how many friends shared that he always had a smile on his face and so our friends have told us that he always made them feel like one of his own when we were growing up. That smile also could be quite mischievous, it as he loved to tease and give people a hard time. I remember being on a family vacation when I was little. My dad called to me that morning – come here, look! Do you see the buffalo? He said pointing off in the distance… I strained my eyes – no where? Right there! He repeated – you don’t see them?? This went on for a bit till finally dad exclaimed “April Fool’s” Triumphantly and a huge grin and big belly laugh.
That same mouth always made his daughter’s and grandchildren feel loved. Every night he told my sister and I “I love you” and gave us a kiss. From those same lips he called all his girls by special nicknames – his wife is Lynny-dinny, I am Squirt, Laura is Dimples and his granddaughter is Rabbit pronounced with a “w” – Wabbit. I personally think this last one was because he struggled pronouncing her name – Marisol. I often struggle with pronunciation too and am convinced it is a genetic condition he gave to me – one I will be proud of from now on.
I remember when I was about 5 years old walking out my front door dressed for church or some special event. I believe I was wearing a pink dress that I loved. I heard a low whistle from the barn about 20 yards away – it was my dad letting me know how beautiful he thought I was! He was always slightly inappropriate but I didn’t mind! Because boy, did I feel beautiful.
Let’s travel up now to Dad’s eyes. Dad liked to think he was a tough guy (and he was in many ways!) In childhood I only remember seeing him cry 2 times – when our first family dog, Jethro died, and we buried him – complete with a homemade cross with painted yellow moon and stars on it by little hands. The second time was when his mother was in the hospital sick with cancer. But as he grew older those brilliant blue eyes betrayed a much softer side, much to his discomfort! Because every time he had to say goodbye to his grandchildren those beautiful eyes shed tears! If you do the math (sometime mom loves to do) he went from crying a couple of times over decades to crying 3-5 times per year! Maybe he wasn’t so tough after all!
My dad’s hands tell a great part of his story. His hands were big but his fingers not overly long. They were toughened from years of working on the farm, fixing machinery and then building a golf course. For the entirety of our childhood his hands never really got clean – there was always grease and dirt that just wouldn’t come off no matter how hard he scrubbed them. The exception was when we got to go on a family vacation – they would be much cleaner by the end of the week but of course that never lasted long.
Dad’s hands showed the whole world one very important part of his identity: He was a hard worker – not because he especially loved working, but because that is who he was. This is how we learned to be hard workers too – through his and my mom’s example, the two of them a team in every sense of the word. My mom was the teacher – both in name by profession – but also in temperament. Patient, supportive and a good listener, she exemplified what we think of when we say the word “Teacher”. My dad on the other hand, wasn’t the best or most patient “teacher” in my memory – He usually threw me on a tractor or lawn mower, showed me a couple of buttons and levers and then cut me loose! Was I terrified? Yes. Did it usually work out? Yes.
The funny thing though – is that a friend posted on dad’s memorial page was a good and patient teacher my dad was. And I think that is so fascinating and true – people are complex and hold many contradictions with in them… Dad was no exception. He was a study in contrasts: quiet but loud, strong but gentle, tough but kind.
I always loved the contrast of his big hands holding his small grandbabies. I will always cherish the memories of my massaging his left hand lovingly in his last days when it swelled up and on the morning he passed, I saw my sister Laura holding his right hand before we said our final goodbyes. I’m glad I saw her doing that because it reminded me to give his hand once last squeeze and look at his big work-worn hand next to mine.
But hard work was only one part of the story that Dad’s hands told. Because he also loved to have fun! Those same hands that worked so hard, played and played and played. Here are just a few ways he loved to play: sports like basketball, golf and pickleball, driving racecars, golf carts, tractors and Cushman’s, holding his babies in his arms or on his shoulders, snorkeling, scuba diving, skiing, ziplining, riding roller coasters and waterslides… and let’s not forget the tickles!! He logged hundreds of tickle sessions with his namesake, Little Gerry alone – that doesn’t include his daughters, other grandchildren, nieces, nephews and other random children! Dad loved being outside, traveling and doing new things! Sometimes he even combined unlikely activities like holding babies and rollercoasters – like the time he took 2 year old me on a rollercoaster and reassured my mom it would be fine to leave baby Laura in the attendant’s arms! Check with my mom for details – she insists it was a loop-de-loop! He was always pushing my mom’s comfort zone and instilling a love of adventure in his girls from a very young age!
And after all that work and play you could find him napping – often with a kid or 2 tucked under his arms.
Dad took pride in his body – often telling us, “I’m a physical specimen!” after he swam for an hour. This was one of the hardest parts of cancer, was his physical body losing its strength and vitality. But with challenges always come blessings. What could those possibly be? Let me explain. My mom described dad as a quiet man. What the heck did she mean by that?? Because lord knows, I remember him being quite loud as I’m sure many of you do too! He was boisterous and he didn’t really “talk” on the phone – he yelled! Which is a good thing, because now we have recordings like the one of him talking to 3 year old Little Gerry. Dad had been in a bicycle accident and told Gerry he had stitches. His grandson replied – I have itches too Grandpa! Well, I think what Mom meant, is that Dad wasn’t a “talker” - that he didn’t often let us see what was going on inside of him. Like she said – he left the talking about deep topics and life philosophy to me and her. This was one blessing of the past few years – as he got older and his challenges with cancer more severe, we got more and more peeks into his mind and spirit.
I did have some inklings of my dad’s inner workings as a child though. He was so smart - He could fix anything as far as I could tell and was the best creative problem solver I knew growing up! But I also gathered from little comments he would make over the years, that he didn’t always see himself as intelligent. Hold that thought for one moment please because we’re going to circle back to it. As I became an adult, my dad didn’t always know what to make out of my crazy ideas about life and parenting. He always loved me, but I knew he wasn’t exactly sure about choices I made for my family. But he got to see enough of my kids growing up to begin to understand and appreciate a different way of doing things. One of those things was homeschooling. I think he appreciated that we could see our kid’s innate brilliance and intelligence without the filter of school and grades put between us and them. Remember how I said school had made him like maybe he wasn’t as smart as he wished? Well, seeing my kids thrive without it was more than a little bit healing for him.
As for Dad’s spirit…A couple of years ago my dad told me that he was a Christian – he said it with a touch of defensiveness in his voice, like he thought I didn’t believe it. But he didn’t need to explain to me. For years I had sensed some frustration that dad had with me. Dad was a bit cynical about life… it wasn’t all roses and he knew it from experience and what he observed. But he was determined to live it to the fullest in spite of the challenges and imperfections. I’ve always been pretty idealistic and he was sometimes impatient with my striving for perfection – in myself and others and life. He on the other hand embraced imperfection. He knew he was an imperfect man and never claimed to be perfect. He expected others to fall short sometimes too – not that he was the most forgiving person mind you – man could he hold a grudge! But he just knew that people, families and Life weren’t perfect and he didn’t spend a lot of time trying to fix things. He was too busy living life and loving the people that mattered most to him that he didn’t have a whole lot of time to dwell on those things.
Over the years, he and I pushed and pulled at each other and I believe came to understand one another’s perspective. I can see the wisdom in the lesson he repeatedly try to impart to me now. Accepting imperfection in Life allows a lot more Peace and Joy into my life. For his part, as my dad’s body fought cancer and slowed down, Dad continued to grow and learn. One favorite memory of mine is him reading the book “Underestimated” which is about an Autistic teen who learns to communicate through Spelling. My dad is not what you’d consider a “Reader” but he gobbled that book up and paid close attention to everything I’ve been learning and sharing about nonspeaking autism. This past winter dad was always looking things up – if there was something that caught his interest he’d search for it immediately on the computer -he was hungry to learn and do as much as he could. It was touching and inspiring to observe.
It was not an easy road with cancer and the past year was especially difficult physically. But again… the blessings. It seemed that the tough guy exterior grew softer and he was able heal and have significant reconciliations with loved ones.
Dad didn’t want to go yet. He fought with every fiber of his being to stay and see his grandchildren grow older. But he continued to do all of the things I’ve shared here: work hard, play hard, Love hard and continue to learn and grow right up to the end.
We’ve been remembering Dad this past week with mostly smiles and laughter. Yes, we are sad too and tears are healing… but as time goes on, we will honor his legacy of living a full life by speaking of him with love and warmth in our voices, as the poem “All is Well” by Henry Scott-Holland encourages us to do:
Death is nothing at all,
I have only slipped into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by my old familiar name,
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used
Put no difference in your tone,
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was,
Let it be spoken without effect, without the trace of shadow on it.
Life means all that it ever meant.
It is the same as it ever was, there is unbroken continuity.
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
Just around the corner.
All is well.
“When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, You have taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.”
My Dad Lived Well.
All is Well.
It is well with my soul.
Love you Dad.
For the past 15 months, usually when I wake up it is with excitement and a whirlwind of ideas circling my brain - even if it happens to be 2 or 3 am!
But there have been a handful of times where I wake and just feel my heart breaking - literally. I can feel the pain in my chest and tears slowly well up and leak out of my eyes onto my pillow. It's not heavy weeping - no, I've done that for years and haven't needed that huge amount of release lately. It's just a deep, aching sadness that needs to be let out so it can pass through me. Let me explain more:
The past couple of weeks I've dipped my toes back into "what's going on." I feel like I'm looking around in shock... it's all happening as predicted. It feels surreal and it's hard not to feel disbelief. It's crazy. The death, injury, illness... I know for someone who hasn't been paying attention to the same things, I sound crazy. Even someone who is paying more attention, but newly "awakening" - probably thinks it's dramatic to describe this as massive amounts of death and destruction. But is it?
I remember reading a book as a teenager. A rabbi was weeping for his people. I can relate. Oh humanity. Why?
In 2019 I wept for a friend who would not be persuaded. In 2021 I wept for the masses, especially friends and family who would not be persuaded.
I have wept. So now the tears are slower. They well up and squeeze out slowly, one at a time. They usually only come in the middle of the night when I cannot fall back asleep. Oh humanity.
I do not usually use the word "regret" to describe what I feel. I aim to live so authentically that there is very little room for regret. But when I look back on the past two years I regret not convincing more people to "pass" on the you-know-what. Even though I know I did my best for years to be open and share what I learned. Even though I did convince my most inner circle, and for that I am overflowing with gratitude. Even though I know intellectually that it isn't my job to "convince" others and that it is very difficult, almost impossible to do... Still, I wonder: Could I have tried harder? Could I have done things differently? Could I have been stronger? Braver? Had thicker skin? Cared less about what others thought?
But here's what I know: Regret of the past and worry of the future do little to help TODAY. So I don't allow myself to stay here long.
I breathe deep and let the tears flow. I allow the feelings to pass. I feel the ache in my heart ease. Slowly, my brain returns to a slower state and I sleep again.
In the morning I am ready for a new day. Grief has passed and there is so much to do! Thank you sweet relief.
Tomorrow is my birthday (as I write this). I usually feel quite reflective on my birthday and this birthday is no different. I have also been a little low in spirits so the reflectiveness is tinged with bitter sweetness. What a couple of years it's been!
I've realized a lot of things about myself and others in the past 2 years. I've learned a lot. Some of my beliefs have changed. Some beliefs have been strengthened. I've lost friends and other relationships have withered. But I've made amazing new friends that feed my soul every day too.
I still look at the little book that my friend DeAnna gave me before she died. I don't look at it every day anymore, but I look at it a few times a month. I like to see what the "theme" is each month. June's theme is "Forgiveness." I am mostly thinking about forgiving myself. I forgive myself for not being able to forgive those who betrayed me... yet. I am moving in that direction and my heart is softening, but I am not there. And that is ok. I love the post by Jeff Foster which he called YOU DO NOT NEED TO FORGIVE. Thank you Jeff for that grace.
I also forgive my past self for being imperfect. My former friend said in her last email to me: "Your posts feel like proselytizing (I realize that is your right) and I believe what you are working to convince others of is dangerous." I had to look "proselytize" up back then. Even today, I looked it up again to make sure I understood. And I remembered another person saying something to me when we were moving to Florida - he said that it was different for me to share our reasons for moving (we could see the coercion and tyranny coming) than when I was trying to "convince" him a few months back.
And I've realized - I was trying to convince them. There is nothing "dirty" about the word "proselytize" although it felt a little bit like an insult at the time. I was trying to convince them that my family and I are human and worthy of being treated as such - even though we don't believe the same things and would make a different medical choice than they would. If that is proselytizing then call me a proselytizer! Yes, I am trying to recruit people to my cause - to support my human rights and also those that share beliefs and certain choices with me. As long as there are those who don't believe we have the right to exist and live as we choose, we will not be left alone in peace.
I've spoken before of putting science to the side and picking up the lens of philosophy. I think we also need to become knowledgeable of human psychology. When I was sharing in 2020-2021 I was feeling quite desperate. It's true. I think that air of desperation is partly why the word “proselytize” feels negative. But I could see what was happening in the world and I did want to persuade people, so things might be different. But the fact is: humans don't respond well to desperation. In fact, they are repelled by it. I forgive myself for my behavior and how I communicated, because I had little control over that feeling at that time in my life.
Before 2020 I believed in living by example and in alignment with my values. I figured that was the best way to bring people along the journey with me who were ready and willing. I was right. It is the best way. But desperate times bring out the desperate in us. So I've returned to a calmer state and sharing feels a lot better when I can remain here.
But I still miss some of those people and relationships. It's sad how many people have lost significant relationships these past 2+ years.
I've learned a lot. I still share to inform and inspire. And I still strive to remain curious, with an open mind and heart so I don't close myself off to people, information, ideas, and beliefs. Because we all have our blind spots.
And now on the eve of my 44th birthday I am ready to move on from this bittersweet reflection into pure sweetness. Tomorrow I will celebrate with the people who matter most and be filled with gratitude for this beautiful life. Because it’s really too short to do anything else.
We all know that social media is not an accurate representation of "reality." Specifically, most people post "highlights." But we often scroll through our favorite social media wall and begin to compare ourselves - no matter how much we know we shouldn't!
Maybe you're having a day where you feel like you "never" leave home. Or everyone is sick. Or you're exhausted from a poor night's sleep. The kids are out of sorts and you're SURE that you are the worst mom ever. Then pops up one of your best friend's from high school - they are on an amazing vacation, out in the "real" world, exploring and having a blast. Ugh. You're brain short-circuits what you know to be true about social media and how people share the best of the best, and you become convinced that you are failing at life.
Why do we do this to ourselves?? I'm not sure why we do it, but I do know that it is pretty darn universal.
So below I've supplied a slide show of the Highlights of our recent family get-away. But I am going to fill in the Highlight reel with a few bits of reality so you can be assured that the happy smiles in sunshine were not EVERYTHING that went on during this adventure.
Bits of Reality:
Despite all of the harder parts I am glad that we went and made some fun family memories. It was overall a wonderful week. I am learning to push my and Carter's comfort zones being away from home (and our family's in general!) There are always moments when you think - oh man, what did we do??! But I am almost always able to shift my perspective or mental outlook at embrace the moment. It's such a great practice - to do something different and spice Life up! And then it's always so great to be back home again to decompress and feel comfortable again.
Now - if we can all just remember that social media posts are almost always the "Highlight Reel" and don't represent all of what really goes on, that'd be great.
My dear friend Diana led an awesome discussion with me about unschooling, parenting, Life and autism. It was so much fun! You can listen here (and find all the different places Diana's amazing podcast is available).
I'd love to hear what you thought! Comment here or send me a message/email.
There is Black & White:
We are born.... and then one day, we die.
But in between, we are all Living in the Gray.
Living in the Gray means:
Grief and Gratitude will always coexist.
It means loving my son - as he is - with all my heart, feeling complete joy when he stares into my eyes laughing, feeling grateful for how his journey deepens mine... AND grieving an easier path for him, remembering his very "normal" baby years and accepting that something changed - something I was unable to stop.
It means freshly laundered sheets, dried in the sun, sweet smelling from the Spring Breeze... but sometimes a bird poops on them.
It means accepting human imperfection, letting go and forgiving... especially forgiving ourselves when we feel unable to let go and forgive.
It means knowing the most fulfilling way forward is through clear eyes and open hearts - hearts opened by breaking - AND also knowing that there are times when it is best to protect our hearts so they can remain soft.
It means knowing my way isn't everyone's way, and that is A-OK.
It means knowing when to STAND UP and knowing when the best thing I can do is stare at the leaves blowing in the breeze.
Living in the Gray feels like... a much lighter heart, a less cluttered mind, and fresh eyes that see the world's bright colors anew. And it also feels like a heavy heart, a tired mind and tear-filled, blurry eyes.
Living in the Gray is NOT wishy-washy, cowardly or a cop-out.
I am struggling. I find it difficult to forgive you. When the sky was falling and the world was falling apart...You abandoned me and my family. You told me to be quiet. You insisted that I was a danger to others because I had questions.
You thought our relationship was better off if we just ignored the issue.
Worse...you cut me off because it was too difficult for you to see me.
But you were wrong... our relationship isn't better and the questions didn't disappear because you banished me.
I'm not lonely. I've made amazing new friends...people who are my family and love me for who I am - questions and all. I feel more peaceful and connected than I ever have before.
But it still hurts. I miss you. Because no one else is You. And no one else shares the history that we did. It sucks.
I hope you are well. I wish health and happiness for you and yours. I'd reach out but... it feels you've set a boundary. The chasm seems too deep and wide to bridge right now.
And so I cry. And slowly I heal. This is my work.
I am wary of you. You showed me I could not trust you (at least "past you"...) Maybe someday we'll rebuild a shaky bridge together. And we'll place each plank...with intention, carefully hammering in new nails, slowly reaching out from our respective "sides" of the ravine...taking our time until we can meet in the middle.
I'm ready when you are. Life is too short and Love is the only way.
As gas prices skyrocket, I am thinking of all the families that are being impacted. It's no small thing when such an essential part of our life changes so quickly and drastically. We have homeschool friends who drive over an hour to hang out with us - will we be able to continue our regular meetups?
Another friend posted how her business is impacted because she drives to all of her clients.
I feel the tension of all of these things as I continue to grow my own baby business. I am hyper-aware of how incredibly fortunate my family is (husband working from home, kids that have always been homeschooled, a roof over our head and plenty of money to meet our needs and then some). I also know through first hand experience that everything can change overnight - we've been through unemployment before and came close to facing it again this past fall.
Many of you are friends that I know in real life. But I consider all of you friends. I am incredibly grateful for each of your support and engagement as you help fuel my personal and business growth. I want to make a few things clear both as your friend and as a business owner who believes in what I am offering to you.
I purposely made "Uncertainty" the biggest Elephant in the image above. Uncertainty makes us humans feel insecure and scared about the future. We tend to contract in fear and pull things tighter when we feel this way - it's natural. But I truly believe that the changes that will help us best navigate Uncertain times come by us loosening our grip and tuning into our intuition. That's what I've been doing for about a year and a half now.
For example - the decision to move in Fall of 2020? I stopped reading and listening and obsessing, and started spending long hours lying on the trampoline with Carter staring at the sky. Over time I got very calm and knew in my gut what our family's next step was. This is just one example of many.
Thank you for being here and sharing your journey with me, wherever you are. I truly appreciate you and hope you are finding joy, peace and connection every day, even when the future seems so unpredictable.
Remember: Be Bold, Be Brave, Be You!
Because who else is there to be?
The last time I wrote about "Balance" I was not very kind to her. In fact I titled the post "F*ck Balance". Eek.
Here are a few bits from that post:
"Balance... I'm done with you. I'm done obsessing with you, striving for you, feeling like I'm no good when I can't achieve you. Maybe some people can seek you and feel good about it, but for me (a recovering perfectionist) it just feels like I never can get you right."
And now as a mother I find my world always just a bit askew. My kids are a teensy bit older now so things are way better (and by better I mean easier) than they were four years ago or even two. Now I have time to write, I go on walks alone (every once in a while anyway), I regularly teach Hypnobabies, and I actually COOK meals (sometimes) And yet... I still find myself trying to catch even a glimpse of you in my days. But you remain ever elusive. My plan changes daily. I will get up early and walk. No, I will get up early and do yoga. No, I'll stay up late and write. Every day the book I'm (not) writing is in the back of my mind. Every day I think, I need to exercise more! Every day I feel like I need to give more to my kids only to realize I'm wanting to give more to myself.
I think that there are a lot of really worthwhile thoughts and feelings in that post. But maybe it wasn't "Balance" that was at fault. Perhaps it was my idea of what balance is and conflating balance with some kind of perfect destination. Yes, I was definitely conflating "balance" with "perfection." But recently watching my daughter compete on the balance beam gave me a fresh outlook on this word I felt so strongly about 8+ years ago.
The balance beam is an event that always has us on pins and needles. Will the athlete fall? We cheer for them when they fight to stay on the beam, feel intense, vicarious disappointment when they do fall and awe when they nail a routine that 99.9% of us can't even imagine doing on the ground.
Watching my daughter do all of these things made me realize - balance isn't a destination, it is a constant practice. Good yoga instructors tell us the same thing - when we practice yoga our balance varies day to day - some days we are like statues and others we can't stay upright on one leg for the life of us! And think about elite gymnasts who train as a full time job - even they fall off the beam. No one is immune to losing their balance.
The reason I was so angry at the idea of Balance was because there are modern world challenges - especially for moms of young children - that make it very difficult to feel like you are ever close to a healthy balance. But that doesn't mean we should stop trying to find creative solutions to fill our cups while also taking care of our babies and loved ones at the same time.
If you lose your balance give yourself grace. Then pick yourself up, climb back up on that beam and try again. We're all cheering you on!
Wife, mom, information and peace seeker.