and now your moment of zen

As a mother of four, I am usually the one teaching my children things.

This is the right way to cross the street.

You should eat your vegetables like Jamie Oliver says.

Be kind to NYC tourists, they are people, too.

And please put the toilet lid down when you're finished. Girls don't like to fall in.


If you're a parent, I'm sure you agree with me.

Life gets busy. There are places to be. Deadlines to meet. Meals to prepare. Battles to wage. The list can go on and on. But every now and then our children are the ones to teach us things. They remind us of what is truly important. My seven year old, Lily, does this.

Lily is obsessed with flowers. If there was a stronger word to describe this, I would use it. But since I'm still working on my first cup of coffee, I can't find that word. Several times a day, as we are walking down the streets of New York holding hands, my arm is rapidly pulled out of my socket. All because of flowers.



Lily: "Flowers!"
Me: "Yes, Lily. Those are flowers."
Lily: "Wait!!! We need to stop and smell them. Aren't they the MOST beautiful flowers you've ever seen!"

Keep in mind, she says this about every flower. The most delicate tulip or the ugliest weed that is sprouting some yellow version of a flower. It's all beautiful in her eyes. And needs to be noticed.

I used to get frustrated, hurry her along, and tell her we needed to be somewhere. But lately, I've been using this time to follow her lead.
So I stop. Stop everything and smell the flowers with her.

Stop thinking about bills I need to pay.
Stop thinking about what to make for dinner.
Stop thinking about how to remedy a problem.

I stop and smell the roses, as they say. And when I do this, I find that it adds such an element of peace to my day.

There is a reason flowers are so beautiful. It's so we stop and notice them.

So, if you see a flower today. Stop. Stop and take time to notice.

take that Jillian!

Nothing stresses me out more than moving. I'd rather go get my teeth scraped, picked and cleaned. As long as the dentist uses the laughing gas. I like that. Recently I've read about sedation dentistry, which sounds kinda nifty, too. I could use a good nap.

Anyway, packing up a home is not fun. Anyone who says it is is lying. The things involved with a move keep my anxiety levels at an all time high. Add the fact that we're downsizing from a 6 bedroom home to a 3 bedroom apartment, and I should be making an appointment with a shrink. I'm edgy at times and can burst into tears at a moment's notice. I'm a blast to live with right now.

Figuring out all the details to move to NYC hijacks my mind 24 hours a day. I've even dreamed about it- in between my dreams of super country star, Keith Urban. In my dream I'm at his concert and he picks me up on the stage and twirls me around. The he tells me I can touch his hair. I whisper in his ear, "I'm a southern girl." I know. Scandalous.

But I have found a way to curb my stress. I eat. And eat. And eat. Sometimes I even eat while watching the TV show, "The Biggest Loser". I feel like I'm taunting Jillian when I do that. This small act gives me some twisted sense of control back in my life. I'm proving I'm not afraid of her. But the eating- oh the eating is getting out of hand. Last week I sent out a twitter that said, "I've fallen into a pan of cinnamon rolls and can't get out."

But can you blame me? Look at these.



If you'd like the recipe, so you can fall into your own pan, you can find it here.