tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62681604772219353212024-03-18T20:52:15.970-07:00The Naked MommaRaw, naked tips, recipes and tangents on wellness, parenting and joy.
This is my journey of not just surviving the balance of life with four children
(including twins) but embracing it all.
I'm finding that yoga and wine really help...meganneashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01179489038816733875noreply@blogger.comBlogger119125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-39839259750910216242017-11-12T08:58:00.000-08:002017-11-12T08:58:44.032-08:00Happy Broken Crayons Book Release <br />
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Hello you lovely ones. <br />
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I'm so sorry to have been such a slacker over here as The Naked Momma. I've been writing over at Chesapeake Family Life Magazine and editing my novel and working on a new proposal and I recently became a real estate agent which is a career that I'm absolutely in love with. Check us out over at <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TheRealHousesOfDavidsonville/?ref=bookmarks">The Real Houses of Davidsonville</a>.<br />
Life has been wild and full and constant but with a sweet side of happy.<br />
<br />And I just wrote a book called <a href="http://a.co/0VaAu34">Happy Broken Crayons</a> that just recently came out and it's an essay and tangent collection and tales from the trenches about motherhood, life and embracing imperfection.<br />
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And if anyone happens to be in the Annapolis area this Friday, the 17th of November, I'm doing a book signing at my favorite bookstore <a class="profileLink" data-hovercard-prefer-more-content-show="1" data-hovercard="/ajax/hovercard/page.php?id=294698514231902&extragetparams=%7B%22fref%22%3A%22gs%22%2C%22directed_target_id%22%3A191817977957445%2C%22dti%22%3A191817977957445%2C%22hc_location%22%3A%22group%22%7D" href="http://oldfoxbooks.com/">The Old Fox Books & Coffeehouse</a> 35 Maryland Ave, Annapolis from 7-9 p.m. if you'd like to swing by, there will be champagne and I'd love to give you a giant hug. </div>
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I will also be at <a href="https://www.hereapopupshop.com/">Here. A Pop Up Shop</a> at 186 Main Street in Annapolis on Small Business Saturday, the 25th of November from 11-1 signing books and yes, there will be mimosas. </div>
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Thank you for being more than a girl could hope for,</div>
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xoxoxo</div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-62765321053623845972017-03-04T09:55:00.000-08:002017-03-04T09:55:07.859-08:0037 Things I Have Learned in 37 Years<div class="article-info-term">
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<dl class="article-info"><dd class="published"> <time datetime="2017-03-02T00:00:00-05:00" itemprop="datePublished"> Friends, I wrote this for Chesapeake Family Life and it was published online for them on the 2nd of March. But I really wanted this one to be on The Naked Momma site too. I hope you like it. I'm so beyond fascinated by which numbers resonate with which people in different stages of life. I hope you are so so well. Miss you. And I adore you. </time></dd><dd class="published"><time datetime="2017-03-02T00:00:00-05:00" itemprop="datePublished">xoxo Katie </time></dd></dl>
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We get so caught in the weight of the everyday, and we wait for big milestone days to make a change and break the cycle.</div>
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We wait for the weekend to have fun, for New Years to make a resolution, for our 30th/40th/50th birthdays to make bolder life choices. I don’t want to wait for my life to begin anymore. We can break the cycle, beginning now, even when we have so much more to learn.</div>
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I am 37 years old and here are 37 things that I know right now:</div>
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<li>Life is tough. You are tougher.<br /></li>
<li>Being brave and kind cost nothing and can shape everything.<br /></li>
<li>It is never too late.<br /></li>
<li>Hearing a child laugh is the greatest sound in the world.<br /></li>
<li>Chase light. Chase dreams. Chasing people is not what you were born to do.<br /></li>
<li>There is nothing that you cannot accomplish when you put on lip gloss, mascara and a great pair of shoes.<br /></li>
<li>Settling does not look good on anyone.<br /></li>
<li>It is okay to fake it until you make it.<br /></li>
<li>It is okay to be in love with a well-placed swear word.<br /></li>
<li>Some people will drill holes in your life boat. Stop making room for them to stay on board.<br /></li>
<li>Girlfriends are the best therapy.<br /></li>
<li>Learn the power of the word no.<br /></li>
<li>Having to mourn someone who is still alive will be one of the most difficult things that you have to do in this life.<br /></li>
<li>Your gut does not lie. Listen to it.<br /></li>
<li>Linger longer with people who see your worth. The believers and the joy seekers. The people who want to laugh with you at your kitchen table and do not care how dirty the floor is beneath them.<br /></li>
<li>When in doubt, just keep dancing.<br /></li>
<li>Not everyone deserves your time and energy and to be told your best stories. Not everyone deserves a place at your tea party.<br /></li>
<li> The world does not benefit from you living a life of fear.<br /></li>
<li>Put on your own oxygen mask first.<br /></li>
<li>The body is the house to the soul. Nourish it, protect it, celebrate it.<br /></li>
<li>Stop apologizing for the things that you have had no control over.<br /></li>
<li>Confidence is sexy. Smart wit is sexier.<br /></li>
<li>You can change your life at any given moment. You have options even when you think that you don’t. If you are miserable, that is all the justification that you need to write a new chapter. Stop waiting for external bruises and the perfect season of your life to align to make a change. If you wait, it may never happen. And you will wake up and be 20 years older and every bit as unhappy. Trust yourself. Trust your strength. If people can’t understand that, please see No.10.<br /></li>
<li>Perfection and comparison are overrated, exhausting and are the thieves of joy.<br /></li>
<li>Dress up for yourself. Dress up because it is Tuesday. Show up for your life. Dress for it, even when you don’t want to. Especially when you don’t want to. There is a time for pajamas of course. But the daylight needs your tigress ways.<br /></li>
<li>You have enough time for what matters.<br /></li>
<li>If someone is clawing at the door to get out of your house, do not turn the deadbolt to keep them in. Do not contain them. Turn the handle, love. You have the courage to set them and yourself free.<br /></li>
<li>Embrace your mistakes. They make you beautiful, strong and deliciously human.<br /></li>
<li>Tell the people you love that you love them. Write it down. Repeat.<br /></li>
<li> Travel. Read more books. Keep your eyes and soul open. Take some risks even if you are a grown up, especially if you are a grown up. You have a pulse, live accordingly.<br /></li>
<li>Whisper. Scream. Roar. Trust your magnificent voice.<br /></li>
<li>Let go of the things not meant for you. This is not limited to, but does include guilt, dear mommas.<br /></li>
<li>Allow yourself three times to complain about something. After that, you either need to make a change or you need to stop complaining. It is as simple and as complicated as that.<br /></li>
<li>Breathe. Unplug. Smile. Be caught being happy, present and awake.<br /></li>
<li>Surround yourself with those who care less about how they show their lives on social media and more about how they show up in their real lives.<br /></li>
<li>Your children need to see you rise. Everyday. You are not their puppet. You are not their best friend. Teach respect and kindness and how to make their own peanut butter and jelly. Show them how to rise even on the dark days. And they will too.<br /></li>
<li>You get one life. That is it. Make yourself proud.</li>
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Bonus #38: wine, caffeine and Instagram filters are priceless.</div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-1384609431933881322017-01-10T04:29:00.000-08:002017-01-10T04:29:57.051-08:00Love.I don't know a lot of things in this life, especially anything having to do with numbers. Or science. Or how to change a tire. I'm a constant procrastinator. Laundry and I are enemies. I forget anything that is not written down. I would literally be lost without my GPS.<br />
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I could actually write for days about all of the things I don't know. And I would still be forgetting things (see above). But instead I'll focus on this one thing that I do know a little something about: love. No, no. Not romantic love. I still have much to learn about that one. <br />
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I'm talking about the real deal, soul filled, how am I this lucky to have you in life type of love. No romance, no strings, no need for an IOU or you need to pay me back eventually... no. It is the I see you and I hold you in my soul type of sisterhood love. No guilt. No glitz. Just the grit and glory type. That is my favorite type of love.<br />
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As many of you know, my husband and I separated a few months ago. Our first date was on the first of July in the year 2000 when we were twenty years old. I am grateful for the life that we have built together, and all that he still does for me and for our children. He is and was the love story of my lifetime.<br />
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How we came to this point of our new redefined normal is a story that may or may not be told in due time. Not today. Definitely not today. <br />
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Today is the story of how my dear friends and family have shown me an arms wide open type of love in this space of time and healing. I know that I am not the only one going through this space. I also know that you may know someone going through the hard and you don't know what to do. This is what my people have done. They are my village. They are my salvation.<br />
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They have poured me red wine, fed me cheese, bought me a machine to make my own espresso, taken me dancing, invited my four children and I into their homes for sleepovers, organized trips out of the category of "someday" and into the "right now."<br />
They have listened without judgement, hugged me without being the first one to let go, made me laugh and reminded me that that counts as an ab workout. They have not only told me that I can stand on my own two heels but they have helped lay out the stepping stones on how I can and will be able to do it. They reminded me that if I need a hand in mine that theirs will be there. <br />
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Growing up, I had my father and two older brothers. And then I had Stephen. When you like to think of yourself as an independent woman but you have had a man to depend on for 37 years and you now have four children that you have stayed at home with for twelve years, it can be daunting, challenging, overwhelming at times, to think of turning the page and writing yourself a new chapter. <br />
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It is all of those little things of the every day that we question.<br />
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<i>What day is trash day? Where are the snow shovels? Why do we live somewhere where it snows? Why are kids sneakers so expensive when their feet are so small? Why do they grow so fast? Why do only the lightbulbs go out that I'm too short to replace? Does that cough sound like croup? How do I get everyone to where they need to be? Are brownies, soup and sandwiches a legit dinner? Why are pickle jars so damn hard to open? What is the Netflix password? </i><i>Why is a king bed necessary when I am sleeping alone?</i><br />
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And that was just one hour of one day.<br />
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My car battery died on the eve of New Years Eve when my family was leaving my house and my newly separated husband's family was on their way, ensuring that 2016 would continue to be a revolving door of every emotion until its final minutes were up. Thankfully, my amazing brother-in-laws arrived and showed me how to jump my battery. Two days later my mom sent me one of the most thoughtful gifts that I have ever received: a device that will jump your car battery without the dependence of another car. Or another human. She said, "I hope that you never need this. But just in case. Now you can do it, without anyone's help." Thank you Mom. Your foundation of roots and wings are boundless. And beautiful.<br />
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When you know that there are people in this world that fiercely believe in you, you not only keep stepping one heel in front of the other, but you show them that you can rise. You wake up early, you stay up too late, you work and create in any window of time that you can and you let them see all of your sides, the joy, the vulnerable, the hopeful, the strong. <br />
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Sunday is our trash day. The snow shovels are behind the shed. Those kids do grow up so fast. And my 9-year old showed me how to work Netflix and I discovered that my intuition on the kids illnesses is usually right. On Sunday it was twelve degrees and snow and ice encrusted our long driveway, with the exception of the tire tracks I made to avoid using the before mentioned snow shovels. My daughters helped me drag our trashcans to the top of the driveway, small boots followed the path of the tire tracks. We had grilled cheese, campbells and brownies for dinner and no one seemed to mind. The pickles can wait. And my sons did the dishes. <br />
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They didn't complain. This day they didn't complain. They have before and I know they will again. But this day, somehow, they didn't. <br />
They showed their grace, even though it is hard. <br />
They see me standing, even though it is hard.<br />
They see me grateful, even though that part is easy.<br />
I see them.<br />
And my arms are open.<br />
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In this redefined normal we are not alone. It is okay. <br />
One person is enough to fill a bed. <br />
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Thank you village. Thank you.<br />
I see you. Thank you for seeing me.<br />
We are enough.<br />
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Here's to the next chapter.<br />
In love and endless gratitude...<br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-25577080781192385112016-12-17T10:58:00.000-08:002016-12-17T11:01:26.093-08:00New Book Release: We are a Pantsuit Nation<br />
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Hi everyone... like so many, 2016 was a challenging year for me. I know you are probably thinking that maybe I'm having a nervous breakdown to be releasing another book. And you'd probably be right. But also because I am a writer. And writers have to write when the world most needs it.<br />
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And I need to be in a place in life where I can stand on my own two heels so I started to write a very cynical, possibly funny but more dark book about what a shit show of a year 2016 was and then I took a break by scrolling through my facebook feed (procrastination's best friend). There I saw a post on Pantsuit Nation and it was so full of optimism over adversity and of beauty and of hope. And the support was magnificent. And the community was so giving and honest and real and present. And I thought THAT is the book that needs to be written. A book for the community that gives the light to overcome the dark. They are the ones that deserve the stage.<br />
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So I wrote "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1541156285/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1481980705&sr=8-1&keywords=we+are+a+pantsuit+nation">We are a Pantsuit Nation</a>" and it is available now on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/dp/1541156285/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1481980705&sr=8-1&keywords=we+are+a+pantsuit+nation">Amazon</a>. It is a book for all ages that want to love with open arms and believe in a hopeful tomorrow. And I not only want to stand tall in my pantsuit, but I want to give back. So a percentage of all proceeds will go to Glennon Doyle Meltons amazing charity Together Rising to benefit Aleppo. It is time for us all to rise together. <br />
Thank you all for all that you do. Here's to you...<br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-21570746442236915842016-12-15T09:18:00.000-08:002016-12-15T09:18:06.334-08:00Mommas This is the Important Thing<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You know how we all wish that motherhood came with some type of manual? But we wouldn't have time to read it even if we did so instead could we please, for the love, just let each other know the bullet point version of what is truly, really, don't forget, this makes a difference important and just focus on that and let all the other bullshit exhausting parts go?</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #b6d7a8; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't know what I'm doing as a mo<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">ther about 92% of the time and about 4% of that remaining time I'm quoting things my mother used to say to me and the other 4% I'm googling things like how big is a sperm whale (67 feet <a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/thanksgoogle" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#thanksgoogle</a>). But this I know. This falls in the category of "really... is that seriously important?" Yes. And you know it is the Santa Shop. Seriously. You have a 12 mile to do list and you have to find $4 in cash under the couch cushions so that Junior can go shopping at school where everything costs $1 for things like flashing red and green bracelets that jingle while you walk. I know. I had to borrow money from my child's piggy bank (<a class="_58cn" data-ft="{"tn":"*N","type":104}" href="https://www.facebook.com/hashtag/feelfreetopin" style="cursor: pointer; text-decoration: none;">#feelfreetopin</a>) so that my kids could shop like a bunch of ballers.<br /><br />It is my absolute favorite thing at school to volunteer at.<br /><br />To see these kids glow and smile and analyze like the weight of Christmas is on their shoulders to find their momma/daddy/brothers/<wbr></wbr><span class="word_break" style="display: inline-block;"></span>sisters/mee maws the perfect gift, a few dollars in hand... it is the sweetest thing.<br />And my 7 year old Micah couldn't even wait to show me what he picked out just for me and gave these to me right at the Santa shop amidst the elf hats and cougar earrings. Actually this is the 2nd pair because the 1st pair broke upon opening. I LOVE them I said. I put them right on and he held me until I had no choice but to tear up. He told me at dinner last night that giving me those earrings was his favorite part of the day. I told him the truth, it was my favorite part of the day too.<br /><br />So whatever your child brings home to you this holiday, please please give them your best reaction and wear it like a boss. They love us like wild no matter how much we get caught up in staying afloat. They love us. And you are doing an amazing job, momma. You are seen. And that is the first bullet point.<br /><br />Now I'm going to go put in the other 8 pound a piece gold earrings that Sophia got me today that almost reach my shoulders. 10 more days. Keep on smiling. We've got this.<br /><br />Cheers to you...</span></span><br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-89276773634669060272016-12-08T14:01:00.000-08:002016-12-08T16:24:09.485-08:00On Her Own Two Heels<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She woke up one day alive with fever.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She realized that life was too long to live only to endure it. She was exhausted. She was drained thin by going through motions and routines and endless grinds that lacked any type of fire. She was in a maze coated in dead ends. She ran into walls. She forgot how to dance. She forgot how to fly. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But then she looked up. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal; min-height: 12px;">
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<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">There was a whole sky that she forgot existed. She forgot how stunning it was to witness day surrender into night and to rise again was. She forgot that there was more than one way to live. She looked down and remembered that she had a pulse, two hands and two heels and that was enough to know that she was worthy of getting to work.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Writing was her therapy and truth was her religion and she decided to not keep either one in boxes anymore.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting to share her words.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for Saturday night to wear high heels. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for permission to wear the pants. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for her children to be older for her to be her true self. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for summer to see the ocean. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for the next new year to make a change. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for forty. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting to be seen. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for the perfect body before she would show her skin. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for the seasons of her life to be in order for her to feel whole. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for someone to ask her to dance.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She was going to fucking dance anyway.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She wore what she fucking wanted to.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She sang and laughed so fucking loud.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She ordered the fucking french fries if she fucking wanted them.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She spoke her fucking mind.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
She stopped fucking apologizing for the weather and the traffic and everything else that she didn’t fucking have anything to do with.</div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped fucking saying yes when what she meant was no.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped letting fucking fear dictate what she created. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped living by the bullshit rules created by people who didn’t see the real her. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped letting the toxic people into her fucking life boat. It was hers to keep afloat. There was no longer room for anyone who was poking holes in it.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She found the fire inside her veins.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She fell in love with her own beautiful imperfection.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She let go.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She became.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting for her life to send her an invitation to be alive in it.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She stopped waiting.</span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She woke up. </span></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">She set herself free.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbuiSPT8L1y4OvZfD07D091EgFsDPDNSxdJkTjKI2FqgIyiKcd9XjYHuWYaSMfBXSlDZQuMZ66RvrwMv5mk9j6MCKOtzBO7a2qt3mL2XyEvD77yeWgBnaWzB8rDqkli07WZsD8murwUTS/s1600/IMG_7068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglbuiSPT8L1y4OvZfD07D091EgFsDPDNSxdJkTjKI2FqgIyiKcd9XjYHuWYaSMfBXSlDZQuMZ66RvrwMv5mk9j6MCKOtzBO7a2qt3mL2XyEvD77yeWgBnaWzB8rDqkli07WZsD8murwUTS/s320/IMG_7068.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wear your heels. Or your slippers. Stand on your own two feet.<br />
Let your scars and band-aids show.</td></tr>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">@thenakedmomma</span></div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-38915032785786721182016-12-08T12:26:00.002-08:002016-12-08T12:26:50.557-08:00We are Family Book Release<br />
WOOHOO! YEEHA! WOOT WOOT!<br />
<br />
I am beyond excited that my new book that is celebration of family and our beautiful imperfect selves is here...<br />
<br />
"We are Family" is now available on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/are-Family-Katie-Yackley-Moore/dp/1540319237/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481200706&sr=1-1&keywords=we+are+family">Amazon</a> and is perfect for children of all ages, especially those who are kids at heart.<br />
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You can check out a video of me describing it and reading an excerpt of it on my Naked Momma FaceBook page <a href="https://www.facebook.com/katieyackleymoore/?fref=ts">here</a>.<br />
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And, as always, thank you for being here. And for reading. And for being rockstars, beautiful, imperfect ones, my favorite kind.<br />
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Cheers to you dear family...<br />
xoxo<br />
Katie<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/are-Family-Katie-Yackley-Moore/dp/1540319237/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1481200706&sr=1-1&keywords=we+are+family">Family is Family is Family.</a> </div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-24092409383881583612016-11-30T07:38:00.000-08:002016-12-01T08:01:42.238-08:00This Christmas <div data-block="true" data-editor="evo48" data-offset-key="24ud4-0-0" style="color: #1d2129; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">
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<span data-offset-key="24ud4-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here's what I'm thinking... I'm thinking that maybe we are doing too much. And that it is driving us insane.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2pc2k-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I think that we are trying so hard to be so damn good at everything and we are unraveling in the process. We are trying to be magical unicorns in yoga pants, trying to take pictures where no one is crying for the "perfect" holiday card, remembering to move the f-ing elves, trying to find the best deals on the x-box one, kicking ourselves for realizing we missed the best deal on the x-box one, channeling our inner Martha Stewart to bake 112 different kinds of cookies, being secret santas, going to school concerts and tree lightings, and shopping, more shopping, wrapping, traveling, driving hours to do dishes in someone else's kitchen, caring too much about pleasing everyone else, going to so many parties on so few Saturdays, buying all the wine, questioning your life's decisions while waiting at the post office, and you still aren't done the shopping love and by the time Christmas arrives you couldn't be more exhausted.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="5iub4-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It is TOO MUCH. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="3ssk-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So with the exception of the wine, why don't we simplify it this year? And not even just say that we are, but to actually do it. It is time to let go of the things that we don't like about the season and make more room for the things that we do. Don't like baking? Don't do it. Those break apart cookies are sold for a reason sister. Put out some sprinkles and let the kids decorate like you spent hours in front of an oven. Don't want to go to a party? Don't go. Don't want to host? Don't. Hate the elf? Write a note that there was another family that really needed him and he will (creepily) still drop in on your kids so still keep up that angelic behavior- he's magic, they don't need to see him on a daily basis. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="emfjl-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We are so caught up in the things that we are supposed to do that we forget about the things that we actually want to do.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="6268k-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This year I decided not to do Christmas cards. While the year has been really great in oh so many ways, a lot of it has been really hard too and if there is any year that I don't want to put out a message that says look how happy and shiny we are, this is the year.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="c4oe3-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Maybe this is the year that we all should try to be honest and not be so consumed in showing our perfection but in showing our flaws. Let's show our truths. Let's show our unraveling. Let's show our real, imperfect selves. Let's show one another that we are not alone.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="ded94-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I'll start. My husband and I are separated. He moved out a month ago. I've been with him for 16 years... that's a whole lot of Christmas cards where we either were happy and shiny or we put on an appearance that we were. Here's another truth, I want nothing more than for him to be happy. We have four kids, he will be in my life for all the years, so we might as well do this as gracefully and with the most respect for one another and for our children as we possibly can. </span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2q8n7-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And we will be here at the house together on Christmas. I'm not baking. I'm probably going to forget to move the elf. I'm not going to say yes to anything that doesn't bring my children or myself joy. There will be eggnog in my coffee, truth in my voice and laughter from my children surrounding me.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="fdkne-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Even when we don't have the perfect Instagram family photo, that does not change the fact that we are so damn lucky. It is all about doing the next hard, right thing. So this is the year that we don't make it harder than it has to be. Forget Pinterest for the next month. I'd rather have my sanity. We've got this. Team a little broken, team store bought, team simplify, you are my people.</span></span></div>
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<span data-offset-key="2o8ff-0-0"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Here's to a holiday season that is a redefined beautiful... </span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3r1mtPp_nVU54-R9Dw1D1IMAYs8isnCsOvb8pqhbiER7UhW1Atp9UrzGf805e1Qihk9EK54GTKPuMfQAb9KBXtevInFROArhTpXYaCQPkGxqpID3rcJMo9GsA1vHIt4M9DrkLj4sjfmv/s1600/IMG_4019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh3r1mtPp_nVU54-R9Dw1D1IMAYs8isnCsOvb8pqhbiER7UhW1Atp9UrzGf805e1Qihk9EK54GTKPuMfQAb9KBXtevInFROArhTpXYaCQPkGxqpID3rcJMo9GsA1vHIt4M9DrkLj4sjfmv/s320/IMG_4019.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How we did the holidays in the '80s... apparently my Mom had to let some things go too,<br />
mainly winter apparel and haircuts done by salons. </td></tr>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-51046569153989309772016-09-01T06:33:00.000-07:002016-09-01T06:33:00.533-07:00The Artist in YouDearest Artist,<br />
<br />
I see you. I see your creative ways. I see your hope, your vision and the edges of what you thought you would be when you drift off to sleep. I see that you have hands that used to build such big things that now spend endless moments in water, baths, washers, sinks, that you forget what else they have the potential to do. That water can swallow your days whole. That water can make you forget to breathe, forget to paint or write or sing or dance. It can make you forget to dream. For being so consuming, it can leave you so very empty.<br />
But dear artist remember this: you are doing the most important work and the constant drowning spiral of it all can make us lose sight of that. You are shaping miracles every day. You are a creator of hope, a visionary and a keeper and gardener of dreams. So make sure that you still go after your own. There is time enough for all that stirs your soul.<br />
There is time enough for you.<br />
Go create. The world needs you.<br />
<br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-9832975464636091132016-08-23T07:00:00.000-07:002016-08-23T07:00:12.649-07:00To My Daughter on her First Day of Middle SchoolDearest Lucy,<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how this day even got here. Somehow time has accelerated the older (and more fun) you have become and it seems like the opposite should be true. I'm in a bit of shock at the speed and ferocity of this whole motherhood experience.<br />
<br />
I want you to know that I remember being eleven years old. I remember middle school. I remember how it feels to be on the cusp of not wanting to ever grow up and wanting more than anything to grow up. I remember feeling like a marionette puppet being pulled in two opposite directions, often with the same force and desire, not wanting for change but yearning to grow. I remember the hard of it all.<br />
<br />
Which is why you need to know that I believe in you. And I'm beyond proud of you. And I am in awe of your brave and kind soul. And that is what I need you to show up with every day from here on out: bravery and kindness. I know it sounds simple, but it's amazing how often the human race forgets one (or both) of those things each day and what a different place it would be if we didn't. There are people who may test your kindness and push the boundaries of your bravery. There are people who hurt and hurt others as if it is a game. There are people who think being cool or popular is somehow the greatest quality a person can obtain. There are people who may make you feel that you are somehow not enough.<br />
<br />
If there is one promise I can make to you in this lifetime it is this: YOU ARE ENOUGH. Always have been. Always will be. You have been built to handle anything this world gives you, no matter how unfair or cruel or unsurmountable it may seem.<br />
<br />
You can and will rise and prevail my love. Again and again. And you can do it with a smile. That is how your father and I made you and we will be relentless in our pursuit of watching you conquer life like the warrior that you are. <i>Just keep rising.</i><br />
<br />
We won't back down and we will never expect you to either.<br />
<br />
You have intelligence, strength and fire and what you do with it is yours and yours alone. Don't dim or compromise your spark for anyone else. Ever. Boys are fun and great and all but they are only worth your time if they can see your worth. You, love, don't need to be like the rest of them. You be original, glorious you. Say yes to the things that bring you joy. Say no to the destructive. Put the blame on your parents. Do your chores. Work hard. Say please and thank you. Put the napkin in your lap. Be gracious. Be grateful. Be brave. Be kind. See beauty. See opportunity. See the light. Smile. And, above all else, keep on dancing.<br />
<br />
You've so got this girl.<br />
<br />
Here's to a new chapter in watching you rise.<br />
<br />
Love you.<br />
Always.<br />
Momma<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-44322728025095387442016-05-31T06:44:00.000-07:002016-05-31T06:44:48.331-07:00An Open Letter to my Thighs<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Dearest Thighs,</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You have been with me now, literally, forever. You’ve witnessed and been one with me through thicker and thinner days. You’ve been there through the crashes and the cascades. You know what it feels like to reach for the clouds on the springtime swings of childhood. You know what it feels like to have the warmth of a July sun and soft powder sand cradle you at the same time. You know what it feels like to help carry the weight of bringing a baby into the world. You know all about being weightless for a moment in the depths of cool oceans and being so whole and heavy in the all encompassing place of motherhood.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So I feel saddened and shameful to admit that when I look at you, admiration is not an emotion that I adopt. You are what my eyes first see in a dressing room mirror. Fluorescent lights seem to showcase every line, every imperfection, every dimple of years that are mapped across your edges. When I see you now, it is hard to remember the girl that you used to pedal on a bicycle faster than fireworks on summer afternoons. When I see you now, it is hard to remember that I once saw you as beautiful. When I see you now, I long for an eraser instead of a highlighter. When I see you now, I see the things that are wrong instead of the things that are right.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Which is why I have decided to call a truce.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am no longer going to complain about you. I am no longer wasting dear moments producing hostility toward you or me for the way that I carry you. I am no longer letting you dictate whether or not we will spend summer in a body length cover-up or in a show you off sweet bikini. I am flaunting you. Because you are powerful and strong, regardless of size. And life is glorious. And the more complaining we do about the way we are built, the more that glory seems to diminish.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our time is too valuable to pick apart the width of our bodies instead of embracing the pieces that make up the width of our days. Whether it is thighs, or stomachs or breasts or arms or faded images of the way we used to see ourselves. The way I see it, we have two choices: to either let go of our complaints or to do something to make a change. We can go to the gym, or go to yoga or go to a plastic surgeon or buy the spanx. Or do none of that. There should be no shame either way. We have a choice in the way we see and treat ourselves and how we see and treat one another. So let’s keep on going and live a life that is lighter and freer because we won’t have our negativity weighing us down. We get this one shot at life and our bodies are there for the whole stunning ride.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So thighs, bring it on. You are with me in the drivers seat and the time to press the gas is now.</span></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let's do this…</span></span></div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-66500386987409804012016-05-31T06:33:00.001-07:002016-05-31T06:33:28.867-07:00The Other Place<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span>This was a piece that I wrote for Scary Mommy that appeared on their online site on the 26th of April. Cheers...</div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I don’t really know how it happened but one day I woke up and my children weren’t babies. Or toddlers. They didn’t need me to pour their cereal or lift them out of their crib. They didn’t need me to dissolve pink syrup in the milk filled purple sippy cup. Sippy cups no longer live in our cabinets or more accurately, leaking on the stained fabric between faded car seats. The stroller in the trunk has long been replaced by lacrosse equipment. The sweet new baby smell has grown into the scent of sweat and the reminder to my nine year old that he needs to take a shower. Yes, right now. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Last weekend, they were all in the house, all doing their own thing. And it was quiet. Four kids. All independent. And <i>quiet. </i>My mind was blown. I asked my husband, “Is this really happening?” His response, “They’re not yours anymore.” My response, a hesitant bordering on the edge of tears, “Yes they are.” <i>Who asked him anyway.</i> Shit. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">They still need me. But it has evolved into the other place. I’m no longer in the thick of the everyday. Just. Like. That.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Before any of them rode a school bus, I used to take them to a toddler morning at a local roller skating rink where you could bring bikes and scooters and baby doll strollers and whatever you schlepped inside would instantly be no longer wanted by your child as soon as they saw the new big wheel that another child was riding. The whole thing was a hot mess but we NEEDED to get out of the house to be able to survive winter. The center of the rink was the thick of it. This is where there were seats for the nursing mommas, this where the full body tantrums happened, this is where the tears were relentless and the falls of the beginning skaters happened again and again. This is the place where everyone’s hands were full. It was where mothers gave each other reassuring nods that they were not alone. They too, understood that you had to get out of the house no matter how difficult it was to leave and how challenging it was to make it through the present moment. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And then in the outer ring there would always be at least one momma on rollerskates. She had older outer ring children that knew how to ride on skates or on bikes without training wheels. They didn’t need her hands any longer to hold them up. She still was there, but now more as an anchor than an appendage. Her hands were free. She was smiling. She earned the other place.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">I never thought I’d be her.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">But I am.</span></div>
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<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">When you are caught in the thick of the tears at the roller rink or the grocery store meltdowns or the endless sleepless nights, it seems almost impossible that any other place exists. I am here to promise you this: one day you will be in your home and you will only hear the sounds of the outdoors. You will be able to complete a thought. You will be able to drink coffee while it is still hot. And it will scare the hell out of you. I also promise you this: it will be remarkable. You will have earned the time. You will have earned the quiet. You may even miss the noise. And it’s okay if you don’t.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11px; line-height: normal;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And you are still needed. Every single day.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">You are still the chef, the chauffeur, the laundry chief, the therapist, the mediator and the all knowing master of whatever item your child loses or needs that day. You are still the queen bee.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">For life.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">And that outer ring has no end. It just keeps evolving to a different ring, a different place. Easier in so many ways, more challenging in others.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">As much as it breaks us down, it builds us up. So whatever place you find yourself, please know that it is hard and it is beautiful and you will survive it. And somewhere there is a mother looking where you are and longs for just one day to have that place back. She misses with fervor the fullness that used to be in her hands. She misses the sound of it, the laughter in it, the smell of it, the wholeness and the hope of it all. And that is the heart wrenching bittersweetness of all that being a mother is. It is an unparalleled journey. </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here’s to all the places of motherhood.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Here’s to us.</span></div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-8925510915705977292016-03-31T09:54:00.001-07:002016-03-31T09:54:11.771-07:00What if...<br />
What if you never learned to ride a bike because you were too afraid to fall...<br />
What if you never saw the world because you were too afraid to fly...<br />
What if you stayed with someone who leaked the life out of you because you were too afraid to be alone...<br />
What if you never wrote the story that you were meant to write because you were too afraid of rejection...<br />
What if you never splashed in crystal blue water because you were too afraid of the way your thighs looked in a bathing suit...<br />
What if you dreamed crazy big dreams but were too afraid to go after them...<br />
What if you never reached half of your potential because you were too afraid to grow...<br />
What if you were consumed with so much fear that you forgot to be alive?<br />
<br />
Life feels safer when you are sitting on your couch. Life feels scarier when you are dancing on a stage.<br />
But the thing is... only one of those things makes for a great story.<br />
<br />
I can hear your excuses: you don't have enough time/money/security, your cat is sick, you have too many children, you're married, you're single, you're tired, you're too old, you're too young...<br />
Let me ask you this: do you have a pulse? Yes? Then don't let your life be swallowed by excuses and regret. They may give you something to complain about but they don't make the beautiful life that you deserve. Make a plan and do all that you can to inch yourself toward wakefulness.<br />
Every. Single. Day.<br />
<br />
Until you are six feet under you owe it to yourself to live your best life above ground.<br />
Let's stop losing our lives to fear and letting the what ifs win.<br />
The time to be alive is now. <i>Right now.</i><br />
<br />
Let's make it count.<br />
<br />
Cheers.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /><br />from <a href="http://www.amazon.com/You-warrior-Katie-Yackley-Moore/dp/1502490617/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&qid=1459442950&sr=8-4&keywords=you+are+a+warrior">You are a Warrior</a> by Katie Yackley Moore (the naked momma & her warrior kids)</i></td></tr>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-78441408679348378552015-10-28T11:04:00.000-07:002015-10-28T11:04:30.157-07:00The Girlfriend Vows<blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="border-left-color: rgb(204, 204, 204); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; color: #222222; margin: 0px 0px 0px 0.8ex; padding-left: 1ex;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My dearest friends, I promise you this:</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to know when an occasion calls for ice cream or wine and the wisdom to know when it needs both.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to be honest. Never brutal. Never painful. But to tell it like I'd like to be told.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to be me. Broken, open, raw, vulnerable me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to accept you. Broken, open, raw, vulnerable you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to not vacuum before you come over. Unless it is almost a health code violation and it is in absolute dire need of it. Only then.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to always be kind to the person that you are in love with. Even, and especially when, I don't think he/she deserves you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to be in your corner for your battles.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to let you know when I am struggling through a battle of my own.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to celebrate your victories.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to never order a salad when we go out to eat. Unless it is followed by nachos.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to love your children.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to support your choices, mighty and small, even if they don’t mirror mine.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise to laugh with you at all the appropriate times. And especially at the inappropriate ones. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I promise that when life is slippery and fragile and hurts too much to keep going forward that </span></span><i style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 0px;"><b>you are not alone.</b></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will be there. I will listen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will hold your hand. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will dance with you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will cry with you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will toast with you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And to you.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will attempt to be all that you are to me.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I love you sister.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Always will.</span></span></div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-62193249308191870662015-09-29T07:49:00.002-07:002015-09-29T07:49:45.774-07:00Coffee Shop Thoughts...<br />
Life is so very short.<br />
Wear the red heels. Be present. Take a selfie in a faraway land and then put your phone away. Say thank you to your mother. Compliment a stranger. Put a pen or paintbrush to paper. Leave a mark. Tell a joke to a child. Let a child tell you a joke. Don't forget to laugh. Hold someone's hand. Learn to forgive. And let go. Listen to your gut. Love yourself first. Find a way to move your body every day. Read more books. Create something with your hands. Release yourself from guilt. Tell the people you adore why you adore them. Buy the coffee for the person behind you.<br />
Tomorrows are not infinite.<br />
Live out loud. Now.<br />
Celebrate what sings to your soul. Now.<br />
And smile.<br />
Starting now.<br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-31438072433333374912015-08-25T15:52:00.000-07:002015-08-25T15:52:42.576-07:00Own It SisterMy four kids boarded the bus this morning. The first day of the last year at the same school. 5th, 3rd, and 1st grade times 2. Just. Like. That. I was thinking that the stars would align again in high school; that they would share the same halls again, maybe pass one another in the cafeteria, to have one another's backs and limbs and be the protectors of each other, just in case. But Lucy that too smart girl straightened me out like she usually does and told me that when the twins start high school that she will be in college. COLLEGE. Sweet mother of all things holy. Back it up time. I can't handle the mere thought of saving for college, let alone that she will one too soon of a day be leaving for it.<br />
<br />
Today as I watched that bus pull away lugging my favorite cargo, loud, booming and stunning, my thoughts turned to motherhood. The bittersweetness of it all. The being pulled in two directions like a marionette puppet of it all. The anchor of the roots, the releasing of the wings. The balancing act that somehow leaves you never feeling balanced. The dirty, clean, sick, healthy, arguing, giggling, late, sleepless, time too fast, time too slow, all encompassing gravity of it all.<br />
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Motherhood has the ability to heal us and make us bleed. Sometimes all at once. Your sensations are more awake while the mind is more asleep. You have a superhero sixth sense about you that allows you to feel all of the things. Every. Thing. You absorb it all: lightness and heaviness. Joy and heartache. Frustration, fierceness, closing and opening. It is all magnified.<br />
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And somehow we compare other mothers without thought. We judge like we have it all figured out. We judge like we are somehow perfect or our children are or that somehow that other mother is and <i>who does she think she is. </i>Like we've never had a rough day. Like we don't know what it feels like to be broken. Like we want to break someone else.<br />
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The new school year is an opportunity for a fresh start, not only for our children but for ourselves. How about we give each other a beautiful gift of judging one another less. We are all trying to keep our heads above the water and the last thing we need is more weight yanking us downward. The idea that someone else has it easier, faster, skinnier, richer and all things better than you is a destructive game that is based on perception. It is a game that no one wins. I'd rather see women owning their strengths and their weaknesses and raising a glass to one another in all that makes us different and the celebration of what unites us. We are all part of the same tribe and how glorious it would be to see every woman flaunt it.<br />
<br />
If you are crafty, own it.<br />
If you are working outside of the home, own it.<br />
If you are working inside of the home, own it.<br />
If you haven't figured out this whole being an adult thing, own it.<br />
If you are insanely proud of your child, own it.<br />
If you are just trying to survive the day, own it.<br />
If you go to yoga or just prefer to wear the pants, own it.<br />
If you order pizza for the 3rd time this week or you make your own organic baby food, own it.<br />
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Natural births, epidurals, c-sections, adoptions, surrogates, we have all earned our battle scars. It is not a competition. Be. Who. You. Are. And protect each others backs and limbs like you would want your children to protect one another. The world needs more of that. It is not a slight thing to see the power that is a woman supporting another woman. We can be inspired by one another without tearing another one down. Let's retract the claws and unleash the fist pumps. We all deserve the accolades.<br />
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As for me, you can find me sometimes in heels, more often in yoga pants, working in and out of the home trying to make careers out of passions, all the while glowing in the shadows of this radiant crew that is growing up faster than my soul can catch up. I want to raise them in a world that builds instead of breaks.<br />
<br />
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Here's to owning it.<br />
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Always...<br />
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<i>Katie</i><div class="blogger-post-footer"><iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thenakmom-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=148028324X&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>
</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-27876100762647774532015-08-13T14:58:00.001-07:002015-08-13T14:58:33.845-07:00How to Survive Back to School Shopping<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;">I am a girl that loves summer. I love a break from the constant crazy of the school year. But I have four kids and somewhere around the 4<sup>th</sup> of July it strikes me that it would be amazing to complete a thought in the next few months. By the time the first week of August rolls in I get excited, borderline orgasmic, in seeing those glossy ads with shiny new Ninja Turtle notebooks on their covers. But what is the best way to shop for 26 glue sticks (true story) and about 800 other items while still keeping your kids happy and you sane? Of course you could go alone or do it online and if you can pull it off I commend you. Godspeed. But my “angels” love to pick out all of things for back to school. All. Of. The. Things. I can’t really blame them. I used to love picking out things too as a kid but somehow I remember picking out a single Rainbow Brite pencil and one pink Trapper Keeper. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;">The times have changed and the lists have grown to beyond a Santa level long. Last year I left Office Depot in tears. <i>Actual stream down the face over the cost of dry erase marker tears.</i> Here is what I learned:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><b>1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b>Go to Target. </b>For three reasons: 1. They have everything you need. 2. They have everything you never realized how much you need. 3. Starbucks. 4. Palazzo pants. Okay that was four reasons. Math is hard. This is exactly why these kids need to go back to school.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><b>2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b>Go early. </b>Have you ever been to the back to school section of any store that prides itself in having a back to school section in the prime heat of an August day? It is one of the scariest sites you will ever see. It literally could be a bad scene from The Walking Dead. Zombies are clenching their school’s token list, dressed in head to toe yoga wear wishing they were at yoga or anywhere else in the entire world mumbling about how many sharpened #2 pencils they need for their zombie children who are shouting that they <b><i>need</i></b> poly coated, one with prongs, four without, notebooks, the most expensive pencil pouch and they have to go to the bathroom. Simultaneously. Go early. Get yourself some caffeine and smile, one of the only people there mumbling will be you. <b></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><b>3.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b>Get yourself something happy. First. </b>I made the mistake this August of looking in the grown up palazzo pant section last. Like a fool. We’d already been at Target for 4 hours; khaki clad employees were getting off their shifts that we rode the escalator in with. There wasn’t one drop of patience left between the five of us for this grown up on trend pants smorgasbord. We had to abort. Never again will this rookie error occur. Live, learn, shop palazzo numero uno.<b></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><b>4.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b>Give each older child their own list and basket. </b>It’s about time they started pulling their own weight. Cut up that giant list from hell into smaller lists of hell and let them have at it. It will be a scavenger hunt and the real winner will be you. It looks like someone will have 8 less composition books to seek out to and have more time to find the perfect 4” blunt end scissors for your first grader. Boom. Game changer.<b></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;"><b>5.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></b><b>Don’t obsess over seeing the exact item cheaper somewhere else. </b>This is a surefire way to want to take one of those freshly sharpened #2 pencils straight into your eyeball. That 5 cent glue stick at your local office store seems like the greatest bargain of all time until you get in there and realize they charge triple for all of the other shit you “need” and you’ve spent hours analyzing the cost of glue sticks instead of enjoying these last moments of summer. All equals out in the back to school retail wars. Go to a place that can reward you with a latte beforehand and have time for a cocktail poolside afterward.<b></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Here’s to a beautiful school year ahead and savoring the last taste of summer while it still within our grasp. And to the tireless teachers, I raise my glass to you. Thank you for always being more than we could hope for. I look at every item on that back to school list as one less thing that you have to purchase for your classroom. It is the very least we can do to begin to give back to you. Thank you is an understatement. In the future please feel free to include your favorite store to shop at (or your favorite cocktail) on those back to school lists so we can remember you throughout the year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Here’s to the survival…</span></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: georgia, serif;">Katie</span></i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9abJlpQKn2mdRUou9lX8AFh4R66JCLkOrElrsJljU0XkqpTaGwjD7fP2fJFixgc2gWSjsOnc-l4qLaBCXVpX1bYcukqcPqzNURbhjlLMnVXjwblM0K45ULmR6itrIeL5juglqOhTT43PT/s1600/unnamed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9abJlpQKn2mdRUou9lX8AFh4R66JCLkOrElrsJljU0XkqpTaGwjD7fP2fJFixgc2gWSjsOnc-l4qLaBCXVpX1bYcukqcPqzNURbhjlLMnVXjwblM0K45ULmR6itrIeL5juglqOhTT43PT/s320/unnamed.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">And this was the result. Momma's going to need something stronger than caffeine.<br /></td></tr>
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<!--EndFragment--><div class="blogger-post-footer"><iframe src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=thenakmom-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=148028324X&ref=qf_sp_asin_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1<1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="width:120px;height:240px;" scrolling="no" marginwidth="0" marginheight="0" frameborder="0"></iframe>
</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-55976841825490761312015-06-29T05:12:00.000-07:002015-06-29T05:12:30.161-07:00How to Survive Your Twins This SummerWHOOP WHOOP! It's June! It's SUMMER!<br />
<br />
Oh wait... you are a mother and every day is exactly the same as it was the day before. There is no summer break. There is no break even ahead in sight. Even a bathroom break happens with someone staring at your vajajay at all times. So what do you do when you need to escape the house before you lose it? Somewhere that could be entertaining to any one of you, somewhere overall free of danger and a place that doesn't have to completely welcome but won't turn away your cute yet destructive "angels." Does such a place exist? My warrior friends it does. My twins are now 5 years old and these are the places that helped us all survive each and every summer.<br />
<br />
<b>1. The Water Park of an Amusement Park. </b>I'm kidding. I'm laughing so hard at that one. Sorry about that. Just don't do it. The best time to take twins to the stressful circle of hell that is the water park is when they are old enough to drive themselves there. A much better option for young ones is the splash pad. Sprinklers and running, have at it mini ones. You'll actually be able to see them and look mom- no drowning!<br />
<br />
<b>2. Grandma's House. </b>It doesn't matter where your mom or mother-in-law live. Go to them. Find a way. Not only does this woman adore your children, she allows you to do something amazing: sit down. She may even cook for you. She may even help you fold laundry. She may even have wine. Bonus: she babysits. My mom and mother-in-law are the reasons I've kept any shred of sanity in having four kids. If they weren't already taken, I'd want to marry them. Yes, both of them.<br />
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<b>3. The Mall Play Area. </b>Don't knock it until you've tried when it's free of snot. A lot of malls <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">open before the stores for employees and high speed mall walkers that will want you and your cherubs to stay the hell out of their way or you will get stomped on. Don’t make eye contact and just beeline it to the tot area. There may even be an open Starbucks at that time. You can sit with a macchiato and live the dream baby. If you go during prime sun hours, please proceed at your own risk. One time long but not long enough ago, our pastor was walking by and I talked to him for approximately five seconds while I was confined with my twins inside the sweet, safe play area when he says to me, “I think she just stole something.” And there it was: my Sophia had escaped the play area, ran into Gymboree and was standing there smiling, holding a new tank on a hanger like we had brought it from home. So proud. Go before the stores open. Trust me.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>4. The Beach. </b>Fo real. That place will wear your babies out which will equal the best nap ever. Go early (again, this is the theme of your entire successful summer) and avoid the crowds. It will be much easier to get a good spot and to be able to see them while they run in opposite directions. Those brilliant arm floatie things that strap in the back will be your best friends. I’m pretty sure there were two solid summers where my twins never took them off. We also used to bring a small inflatable baby pool to the beach that we nicknamed “the baby cage.” Throw a little water in it to entertain and cool them off and until they realize they can escape it, it will be bliss. And at that point hopefully it will be nap time.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>5. Your Own Backyard. </b>I know you want to get out, I know. I do too. But think of it this way- bubbles and a baby pool = you being able to sit down. You can even put some Kahlua in that iced coffee in a judgement free zone. And your commute will be so short when it comes to that nap; no one will be falling asleep in their car seat on your watch. And one day your twins will be five and their siblings will be eight and ten. And you will be so excited for summer days that begin and end in your own backyard. Instill that love of being outside at home early on and they will never fall short of what they can discover within it. Nowhere to be with time to be can sometimes feel like the best gift ever. </span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The first key though is surviving it. The second key is enjoying it. It helps to always have a happy drink in your hand.</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">So keep on treading dear mommas, you’ve so got this.</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">Happy summer and cheers to you…</span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i>Katie</i></span><br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i></i></span><br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKklip35_RxnSP6MjTHkudRJEks3seAtz-KOCdttyXwYd2lN7LvVVr4slfZWNjtOSbWuaebsnr1GRyKazJvFhTmiOfWo0YBvNO9yEExRElbg90EkFeZ-K1gEzW93-LyVWZgT-3ma9HZD4/s1600/IMG_1343.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkKklip35_RxnSP6MjTHkudRJEks3seAtz-KOCdttyXwYd2lN7LvVVr4slfZWNjtOSbWuaebsnr1GRyKazJvFhTmiOfWo0YBvNO9yEExRElbg90EkFeZ-K1gEzW93-LyVWZgT-3ma9HZD4/s320/IMG_1343.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre escape baby cage... actually this is one of my twins with my nephew. Sophia did already escape. <br />
Two out of three ain't bad.</td></tr>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-22880139437627377392015-06-02T07:05:00.000-07:002015-06-02T07:05:39.853-07:00Dear Girls and Boys of the World<br />
Dear Girls and Boys of the World,<br />
<br />
There are a few things that I think you need to know. The things that you aren't going to find in a textbook or a church or maybe even your own home. There is power in the dos and the don'ts in this world. And it is imperative to know the difference.<br />
<br />
Don't apologize for your wildness.<br />
Don't apologize for your voice.<br />
Or what makes you different.<br />
Or what makes you the same.<br />
Don't apologize for your style<br />
And your smile<br />
And all that makes you feel alive.<br />
Don't apologize for saying no.<br />
Or yes.<br />
Don't ignore your gut instincts<br />
Or the things that make the hair on your neck stand tall<br />
Or the things that make you feel fear before any other emotion.<br />
There is an endless strength in listening to what makes you afraid.<br />
Please do not blanket your fear.<br />
You are not alone.<br />
If you have never felt at home in the body that you are born with<br />
you can grant yourself the strength, courage and power to change it.<br />
Your body is yours. Your mind is yours. Your soul is yours.<br />
Love out loud so long as you love yourself first.<br />
You owe nothing to anyone.<br />
If no one listens do not give up.<br />
Do. Not. Give. Up.<br />
You have a voice and a choice<br />
and you deserve to be heard.<br />
Please don't apologize or make excuses for the people that weigh you down and tear you apart.<br />
It doesn't matter if this person is blood, honey or water.<br />
They have no right.<br />
You do.<br />
Burying your own secrets has the power to break us.<br />
And you have far more important things to break:<br />
molds,<br />
ceilings,<br />
hearts,<br />
expectations.<br />
Own that voice.<br />
Scream if you have to.<br />
Whisper if you must.<br />
Just don't be silent.<br />
Be who you are.<br />
Release the you that demands to be seen.<br />
<br />
You are worthy of so much.<br />
You are a spark in this world.<br />
You bring the light.<br />
You overcome the dark.<br />
This is your time, your story, your stage.<br />
Your life.<br />
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The world is ready for you.<br />
<br />
<i>Katie</i><br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-56301482796492208022015-05-14T12:37:00.000-07:002015-05-14T12:37:17.161-07:00A May Love Note<div class="_5pbx userContent" data-ft="{"tn":"K"}" style="color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.38; overflow: hidden;">
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I still have moments when I feel like I'm drowning. I know I shouldn't. But I do. Because it doesn't always get easier; it evolves into another place with higher expectations. There is so much running around you forget to breathe. I am so ready for all of the sports to be finished and all of the commitments of school and lunches and reading logs and making projects with hot glue and homework to be finished. I'm not so much ready for the kids to be all up in my grill again but to have open days and open nights and nowhere in particular that we have to be. That is bliss. And ironically it is the same thing that I had when they were tiny and I felt like I was drowning in a different type of way. Oh motherhood, you are one crazy bitch how you turn those tables. So in the inbetween and the trying to wrap up all of the things that need to happen in these next few weeks, if you stumble upon a love letter that one of those wild ones wrote and hid it among the chaos of your office with no other intention than to make you smile, allow yourself to do that. </div>
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Smile. Breathe. Repeat. </div>
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Know that you are loved deeper than you will ever realize. </div>
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We got this. </div>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-54932227521657213592015-04-28T07:45:00.000-07:002015-04-28T07:45:21.693-07:00PROTECT THIS HOUSEI am a Maryland girl. I grew up about an hour north of Baltimore in the small town of Perryville. I currently live about 40 minutes south of Baltimore, outside of Annapolis with my husband and four children. My husband is a developer who works tirelessly to improve and restore worn down areas and buildings to beautiful structures of affordable housing and several of his projects exist in Baltimore. My brother-in-law is an Anne Arundel County police officer, one of the best in fact, with a wife and three young children to come home to and he has been working the streets of Baltimore for the last 8 days and nights.<div>
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I couldn't turn off the news until well after midnight last night because it isn't every day that a city that you know and love is on a national stage, albeit for horrific reasons. If there is ever a time to wake up and pay attention, it is now. My brother-in-law was at Mondawmin Mall. My sister-in-law didn't have contact with him for hours.</div>
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There are billboards and ads around Baltimore for Under Armour, a Maryland born and based brand that read "Protect this House" and the answer that follows is "I Will." Freddie Gray's family again and again asked for peace, to protect this house. The police have worked around the clock to restore peace, to protect this house. There were several Baltimore residents, former police, a Vietnam vet, lawyers and politicians interviewed that are doing everything possible to protect this house.</div>
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Those who seemed to not get the message were not all, but some of the media, coming into town for a day, maybe two who seemed like what they most cared about was who to blame for this happening, and it wasn't the ones destructing. Which politician let the ball drop? Who in power let Baltimore down? Who should we run over with our media buses again and again? It wasn't about the acts of the "protestors" but the acts of the politicians that seemed to take the forefront in their coverage. It wasn't about how we go forward but how we keep looking backward, casting stones at the mayor and those who want more than anything than to see Baltimore thrive.</div>
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Was it handled perfectly? No. </div>
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But I will say that I was with my children at Camden Yards on Sunday, joining thousands for Little League day and the mood of Baltimore was of hope. It felt that the worst was over. It felt that people heard the family of Freddie Gray and protestors would back down and not match an eye for an eye. It was not anticipated that Monday would bring devastation of historic proportions. Our politicians are not perfect but they are not the ones that have set the city ablaze. By grilling them and looking backward you are only fueling anger and separating those with power and those that destruct all the more, dividing a city that yearns and needs to join together. You have a choice in what the public hears. You have the microphone. You can choose to be a part of the problem or a part of the solution.</div>
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My brother-in-law said that there were 8 year olds throwing rocks and bricks at the police. He has an 8-year old and so do I. The image of a child destroying their own neighborhoods to attack the ones that are trying to protect it is not one I will ever understand or soon forget. </div>
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Dear media, if you are looking for someone to blame for these events please blame those who have the rocks in their hands. The ones who teach children to throw the stones. Please don't be the ones caught with the rocks.</div>
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I tell my children when they are looking to cast blame in an argument that it doesn't matter so much who started the argument, but the one who is the bigger person and ends it. It is time to move forward on the road ahead, unite and be part of a rebuild, a rebirth. It is time Baltimore. It is time.</div>
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Let's protect this house.</div>
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I will.</div>
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<i>Katie</i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunday.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monday.</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Today.</td></tr>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-5034713861899966152015-04-21T07:01:00.001-07:002015-04-21T07:01:54.159-07:00You Are Not Just a MotherI need a favor from you, queen bee. I need you to stop saying that you are "just" a mother. I need you to stop right now. I need you to stop saying it in your future. Your child is so much more than just. Your life is more than just. You are so far beyond just... just doesn't deserve you.<br />
<br />
Here is what you are (<i>just</i> in case you need the reminder):<br />
<br />
You are<br />
strong<br />
stunning<br />
amazing<br />
nurturing<br />
powerful<br />
bold<br />
a hope<br />
a light<br />
a vault<br />
a believer<br />
a dreamer<br />
a warrior<br />
the love<br />
the glue<br />
the glitter<br />
the future.<br />
<br />
And this is what you do (again and again and again):<br />
<br />
you chauffeur<br />
you work<br />
you pay<br />
you cook<br />
you clean<br />
you fold<br />
you teach<br />
you build<br />
you create<br />
you laugh<br />
you play<br />
you call<br />
you answer<br />
you listen<br />
you speak<br />
you inspire<br />
you believe<br />
you remember<br />
you release<br />
you forgive<br />
you endure<br />
you hold<br />
you lift<br />
you climb<br />
you carry<br />
you glow<br />
you dream<br />
you sacrifice<br />
you cry<br />
you bleed<br />
you bandage<br />
you spill open<br />
<br />
<b>you show up.</b><br />
<br />
There is nothing slight about it. There is nothing just about it. You do not have time for the justs, the justifications and the judgements. You are doing the best that you can. And you are killing it.<br />
Rock on momma.<br />
You are extraordinary.<br />
Thank you for showing up.<br />
<br />
Cheers to us.<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />Thank you to <a href="https://www.facebook.com/thehonestbodyproject">The Honest Body Project</a> for their stunning work and celebration of truth and motherhood.<br />This is beautiful Amiah with beautiful James. Not just a baby. Not just a mother. <br />So. Much. More.<br /><br /></td></tr>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-72653862036946072002015-04-07T13:49:00.001-07:002015-04-07T13:49:49.155-07:00A Love Letter to my Mother-in-LawDearest Yia-Yia...<br />
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I feel like there are too many things that I haven't told you. I think that is the thing with super women. We just assume that they know how extraordinary their super powers are that we forget to voice them out loud. We forget that everyone needs to have their cup refilled (yes, your exact words that you've said to me). I think it is beyond time that I expressed my gratitude out loud for the way you love out loud. There aren't enough words or pages for all of the things so here is just a beginning.<br />
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You love my children. You say yes to them and dedicate whole days to the word yes. They know Yia-Yia is synonymous with laughter and play and swinging and all that is important in childhood. And adulthood. Whenever I am in doubt about the right decision of how to handle a situation with my kids I usually ask myself <i>What Would Yia-Yia do? </i>And that always finds a way to bring me to the right path; the happier path; the path of yes.<br />
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You love me. You love me like I was one of your own children which makes me feel like one of the luckiest girls in the world. You have been a therapist, a friend and a mother. You not only watch my children but you have slipped me money when I've gone out the door for girls weekends. You give the best gifts from shoes to clothes to Anthropologie happiness. I know love has nothing to do with the material but I am astonished by the thought behind each and every thing. I know that I haven't thanked you enough because I am the worst ever at thank you cards but I know your generosity is lined in it all. I myself am stitched together by flaws laced in hopeful intentions but you never point them out. You never make me feel like not enough but instead like I am a light and I am not alone. You have an understated way of making everyone feel like they have gifts in this world that need to be shined for all to see. You see all of our children's strengths, all of their gifts. Not to say that they don't each have their faults, of course they do, but what a hopeful world it is to just look for the good. That in itself is a gift of yours. It is not a slight thing to be able to see everyone's light.<br />
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You've shown me the love that is food. And that there isn't a situation in life that couldn't be improved by a glass of Chardonnay. You are a brilliant, bountiful and beautiful chef. You make the type of food that people yearn to be in your kitchen. You provide the company that people don't want to leave. And when they do they will not leave empty handed. I have not left your kitchen without at least 3 tupperware containers of your delicious food in the last 15 years.<br />
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You've given me your son. He is of course both of ours, for better or worse and I still call dibs on you should we ever get a divorce but when we got married, you handed him to me with grace. You handed him to me with hope. He will always be one of the best people I will ever meet in this world and that is to your credit. He is a strong man and he was raised by a strong woman. I am in awe of the tenacity in those genes and am grateful that blood that thick is coarsing through my children.<br />
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And there is you. Resilience personified. You take nothing lying down and you take it with a smile. You find humor in what others would hide from. You bring laughter with a side of spanakopita. Dirty jokes with wine. Strength with spirit. You do not let things break you. You overcome.<br />
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I hope that when I become a mother-in-law that I do half as good a job as what you have done for me. That would be the ultimate success. I know I never have called you Mom but that doesn't mean that I would ever consider you as anything else. Thank you. Thank you for everything. You will always be more than I could hope for.<br />
<br />
Love you.<br />
Always.<br />
<br />
<i>Katie</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-1580072082857121272015-03-06T09:06:00.000-08:002015-03-06T09:07:09.742-08:00F#ck You WinterDisclaimer: I am an eternal optimist. I see through rose colored glasses at a glass half full. I believe that everything will work out. Always.<br />
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But there comes a time every year when I stomp on those rose colored glasses and drop f-bombs out of my children's range of hearing. It happens around one of the last (sweet Jesus it better be) snow storms of the season in March. MARCH.<br />
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Fuck. You. Winter.<br />
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I curse Mother Nature and her angry bitchy ways. My kids had a two day school week this week. The last time they went 5 straight days was in mid-October. The weight of winter carries a burden that the heat of summer could never contend with. Winter feels limited and heavy. Summer is all things light and free.<br />
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I don't live in New England or Chicago or Alaska or a land that is known for a crazy long ass snow filled winter; I don't know how those people do it (<i>seriously how do you do it?</i>). I live in Maryland, a state of mild lovely seasons that embraces warm; a drinking state with a boating problem. I want to hear a bird chirp and a flower emerge and feel that moment of unzipping your coat and breathing in the light of the sun without the bitchslap of a chill to your bones.<br />
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I would have an orgasm today if that happened.<br />
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Today it is too cold to feel your face. Today your eyelids may freeze to your eyeballs. Today it is too cold for my husband's ATV to start so he can plow the driveway. He and my sons are old school shoveling it. It is actually orgasmic that he is outside and I am not. Thank you husband. I'm so glad I didn't stab you the other day when you asked what I did all day when all of the children were home on snow day #217.<br />
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So I've declared this day a day of gluttony and I will eat chocolate with a vengeance and drink wine like bikini season will never come. Who knows maybe it won't this year... fuck you endless dark stupid winter.<br />
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I've heard that you should wish for the people that you love enough cold days that you appreciate the warm ones. Done and done. Do you hear that Mother Fucking Nature? We surrender. You've granted us the winter wishes now we are ready for the spring ones. And we promise to be eternally grateful.<br />
<br />
Until next winter.<br />
<br />
Love and hope and red wine in the meantime...<br />
xoxo<br />
<i>Katie</i><br />
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</div>The Naked Mommahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00663734579733155998noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6268160477221935321.post-70598531680958235452015-02-27T06:21:00.001-08:002015-02-27T06:21:35.368-08:00Gluten Free Granola Bars<div style="font-family: Georgia; font-size: 18px;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday was snow day 117 here. I wanted to make something with my kids that would show them I love them and in the <i>look at us we are cooking together</i> way<i> </i>but not so far as I want to clean up the kitchen all day way. Enter these granola bars. No oven or sweat required. Really easy and even cost saving (those store bought gluten free bars can really add up). And there is enough for leftovers. So they can be reminded of the kitchen bonding again and again. Score one for team we can't even wait for spring...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">cheers to almost March my friends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">xo</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b>Gluten Free Granola Bars</b></span></div>
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<i>adapted from Minimalist Baker</i></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">INGREDIENTS</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 cup packed raisins or dates, pitted (deglet nour or medjool)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/4 cup maple syrup (or honey or agave)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1/4 cup creamy salted natural peanut butter or sun butter </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 cup roasted salted sunflower seeds (or chopped almonds)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1 1/2 cups </span>gluten free <span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">rolled oats </span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>•<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></i>3/4 cup chocolate chips</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"> </span><i style="letter-spacing: 0px;">optional add-ins: </i><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">dried fruit, vanilla, nuts, banana chips, flax seed, etc.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;">INSTRUCTIONS</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>1<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Process raisins or dates in a food processor or Vitamix until small bits remain (about 30-40 seconds). It should form a "dough" like consistency. (mine rolled into a ball); can also add oats to help them process easier</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>2<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Place oats, seeds and raisins in a bowl - set aside.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>3<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Warm maple syrup and sun or peanut butter in a small saucepan over low heat. Stir and pour over oat mixture and then mix, breaking up the raisins to disperse throughout.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>5<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Once thoroughly mixed, transfer to an 8x8 dish or other small pan lined with plastic wrap or parchment paper so they lift out easily. (A loaf pan might work, but will yield thicker bars.)</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>6<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Press down until uniformly flattened. Cover with parchment or plastic wrap, and let set in fridge or freezer for 15-20 minutes to harden.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>7<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Remove bars from pan and chop into even bars. Store in an airtight container for up to a few days. I kept mine in the freezer to keep them extra fresh and they taste even more delicious the next day and can be eaten straight from the freezer. </span></div>
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