When I became a mom, I searched for a blog that resonated with every part of me: the nerdy kid, the ansty teenage feminist, the wayward 20-something, the ambitious career woman, the writer, the traveler, the wife, and yes, the mother. I couldn’t find that blog, so I wrote it. Welcome.

Stop and smell the freaking flowers

Stop and smell the freaking flowers

I am not a “stop and smell the roses kind of person”.  I’m more the “get shit done with ruthless efficiency” type. I’d like to smell more roses, I really would. I see all the inspirational social media posts promising me that I’ll find inner peace and achieve glowing skin if I’d just slow down and smell more freaking flowers.

So, I add “smell the roses” to my to-do list, right after “fold the mountain of laundry threatening to swallow your family”, but before “make an appointment to get that weird mole checked”. And for a couple of days I slow down. Then by day 3 the laundry is out of control (again) and my family wants dinner (again), and I’m back to ruthless efficiency.

The other day I decided to pick my two-year-old up from daycare in the stroller, and walk back home. It’s only about a ten minute walk, but it was 90 degrees. By the time I got to daycare I was sweating, and then we had to turn around and walk back in the same blazing heat.

Not only that, but he decided to point out every single flower along the way. Which was cute, until he decided we needed to smell every single flower along the way.

“Mommy, flower! Mommy, nose!”

“Buddy, it’s hot, we can smell the flowers another time.”


So, smell the flowers we did. Every ten feet for half a mile. I was dripping with sweat with a smile plastered on my face as I mentally kicked myself for not just picking him up in the air conditioned car.

Then something happened.

As he made me stick my nose into every flower on our path, I started actually smelling the flowers. I breathed in the scent. I felt the petals tickle my nose. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of bird and kids playing outside. I felt a sense of wonder stir somewhere deep inside me, like Rapunzel waking up from her hundred year nap. (Or was that Sleeping Beauty? Snow White? Princesses seem to do an awful lot of napping and it’s very confusing.)

By the time we got home, I felt deeply calm. Also deeply sweaty. I got my son out of the stroller, and we played outside a long time until we saw the lightning bugs come out.

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This is forty

This is forty