Real You: My daughter, myself

My first post for The Huffington Post appeared on the same day as my only daughter's high school graduation. Odd. Wonderful. That's life. Here's an excerpt: "Thirty years ago, this month, I graduated high school. Tomorrow, my only daughter will celebrate her high school commencement. It's a tough time for me, this letting go. Some days, I've been downright mopey." The full post here.

Bottom line. It's another one of those transition times. It's not a crisis, although I will be crying. It's a change. A shift. A celebration, for both my daughter, and myself. Just like in my novel HERE, HOME, HOPE, these life events are a perfect opportunity to take a look at life, and the people you hold dear. To make sure you're putting the real you in everything you do.

Real You: Just a moment in time

     It's amazing, really, the time you have with your kids. It's a blink - a bright light of time - as they grow and become adults. Moments. So special. As unique as each one.  

Real You: Longing for those Lego days?

Yes, it's Christmas time. And now, instead of heading to one of those amazing, fun toy stores - I especially love the locally owned, creative ones - I head online. Don't get me wrong - I love online shopping. But before, when the kids were little and the internet wasn't so pervasive, toy shopping at Christmas was a very fun pursuit.
Now, it's all about a budget. The taller the kid, the smaller the gift and the more expensive. It's just that simple. And, I've discovered, the bigger the kid, the more virtual the gift. Gift cards. Video games. iTunes cards. Where's the fun in that?
The fun is in watching the kids who used to build Lego castles grow up. It's no longer those squeezable Christmas mornings - but there aren't any overstimulation, nap-needed, diaper changing moments either. All in all, it's fun to have big kids, as long as they're home for the holidays. As long as we're all together.
So, I'm putting away the photo albums of yesteryear and focusing on the gifts of now. Of today. Of my kids. Who are the only present I need.