This Tuesday is voting day. After I drop off my oldest girl at school, my youngest daughter and I will head across the street to the Community Center to cast my ballot. It’s not lost on me how significant it is that I, a woman, get to vote. Participating in our democratic system humbles me. I think about women all over the world who will never have that opportunity. I think about the women who went before me to make my right to vote a reality. I think about my daughters and how fortunate they are to live in a time in history when not only do they have the right to vote but they have a true opportunity to be on the ballot themselves. Voting is important to me.
Author: Brenda Rodgers
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The Struggle with Raising a Confident Girl
The first time I left my girl at the church nursery she looked at me, blinked, and turned to the toys. A clear indication she was ready to move past the good-byes and get onto the good stuff. A confident girl revealed. I walked away with tears rolling down my cheeks.
That was almost six years ago. Nothing has changed since. This past August she started kindergarten. At Open House there was an informational meeting in the gym for new families before meeting the teachers. At the conclusion of the meeting, I got caught up talking to another mom. My girl had been patient enough, and before I knew it she was out of sight, out of the gym, and headed towards the building where her classroom is all by herself. “I guess she’ll find her classroom,” I said to myself and followed behind the herd of people in front of me. When I arrived at her classroom door there she stood, already inside, talking to her new teacher. She looked up at me with this, “Where have you been?” look on her face. Needless to say, she found her classroom.
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Why I’m Giving Up on Smocked Dresses and Big Bows
Nothing sends a southern mama’s heart aflutter like hearing the words, “It’s a girl!” Her next thought is “smocked dresses and big bows.” Fantasies of being a girl-mom come true, and she praises Jesus she doesn’t have to peeve a baby son (or her husband) with second-rate Jon-Jon’s.
I know this because I am one of those southern mama’s. We’re a little obsessed. Finding a gently used Strasburg dress at a consignment sale sets us up for a week of rainbows and sunshine. Then if we’re blessed with two girls the fun starts all over – matching dresses!
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It’s Eight Years Post Heart Transplant!
I know exactly where I was sitting eight years ago at this very moment. I was in Duke Hospital, and I had just received the news that my husband received a heart donation. Surgery would start later tonight, and it would continue until 5:00 in the morning on August 7th.
That seems like a lifetime ago. So much so that sometimes people will ask me, “How’s your husband doing?” in an off-the-cuff way, and I hesitate wondering why they’re asking me that. Then I remember, “Oh yeah, the heart transplant.”
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My Thing Doesn’t Have to Be Your Thing
Instagram has replaced Facebook in my life. This is a confession I’m not proud of, but I confess nonetheless. I’m loving Instagram. The pictures of perfectly organized pantries, stacks of books people are reading, and of course, an inside look of celebrities’ lives, create an endless trap of mindless entertainment. Anyone with me?
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Mid-Life Crises Are Real and I’m In One
The other day the girls and I drove to the east side of town to have lunch. The Chick-fil-A closest to us is closed for renovations in the month of July. This gave us a good excuse for a change of scenery.
As I drove I realized I was driving the same route I did almost 20 years ago when I was in graduate school at the University of Georgia. I would leave Alderhold, sometimes go to the Ramsey Center to work out, then drive home. I remembered this route so well that I could have easily been 23 years old again.
