Rage Against The Minivan

So . . . I sometimes mention that I work as an adjunct professor? I have always tried to keep my online life separate from that role.  I work in the grad psych department, and even though I still have the inevitable embarrassing moments in the class, I at least want to create the illusion that I am a professional.  Because of that, I’ve hoped my social media stuff would go unnoticed  - and for many years it has.  Because writing about your foibles online may not give you the . . .

Before I had kids, I thought that being a work-at-home mom would be the ideal scenario.  It seemed like the best of both worlds: I could continue doing work that felt meaningful to me, and I could also be the one to care for my kids.   I loved the idea of working for myself, having flexibility with my schedule, and avoiding the dreaded daycare situation. I’ve been a mom for five years now, and in that time I have morphed my professional roles into a work-at-home job I assumed . . .

I like both of these products.  One does nice things for my hair.  The other is good for business time. The bottles look very similar in the medicine cabinet.  Especially when you are tired. And that’s all I’m gonna say. Edited to add: Mark would like you to know that it was a hair malfunction, and not . . . ahem . . . something else. . . .

I am going to be speaking at The Idea Camp-Orphan Care next month.  They have been releasing the workshop topics all week and I am really excited to be a part of this, for a couple of reasons.  First, I like the philosophical model of the Idea Camp.  It is a post-modern exploration of topics, with a focus on the participants. The Idea Camp functions under the premise that the crowd is collectively smarter than any one speaker. I am really interested to see how such a collaborative . . .

I love reading the blogs of families who have answered the call to a radical lifestyle of service.  In part, I think that it is a reminder of what I aspire to . . . and in part because I like to live vicariously through the people who have made such decisions because, in truth, it scares the crap out of me.  I read the writings of women like Tara, Jamie, and Heather with equal parts conviction, inspiration, and fear. My friend Sarah now joins their ranks, having moved her family of . . .

I am in Nashville, getting my bliss on at Blissdom.  The kids are hanging with dad, learning important skills like how to rid yourself of a brain freeze.  I think these pictures adequately describe each of their personalities. I miss them. But man, I’m having fun. . . .