Tag Archives: acceptance

I Am Happy When I Meet Someone New

I am happy when I meet someone new. When I look them straight in the eyes to say hello they feel happy, too.  Do you look people in the eyes when you meet them? ~Excerpt from the I Am Happy series of children’s picture books I was doing an author visit at an elementary school… Read More…

I Am Happy When I Am Wearing Exactly What I Want To Wear

I am happy when I am wearing exactly what I want to wear. Even if it is a little crazy. What do you like to wear? Is it crazy? ~excerpt from Book Two of the I Feel Happy series of children’s picture books I was in third grade when I realized, for the first time,… Read More…

I Am Happy When I Get Glasses

I am happy when I get glasses.  They make me look very stylish, don’t you think?  Do you wear glasses? ~excerpt from the I Feel Happy series of children’s picture books When I was in third grade I knew I couldn’t see the board at school. I had to squint my eyes into tiny slits… Read More…

It’s Okay To Be Happy!

Negativity is nothing more than a socially accepted form of mental illness. I know people who, when asked how their day was, have never said, “I had a good day!” Instead, they say, “It was okay,” no matter how good it was. I remember being in a room full of people once, at a seminar.… Read More…

Happiness is Overrated

Happiness is Overrated

I used to think that happiness was an attainable goal. I looked for it everywhere; in people, in things, through accomplishments, in how I looked, what I owned, having perfect health, and on and on and on. Sometimes I thought I found it, but it never really lasted that long. Besides, even when I “had… Read More…

Dare to be Different

When I was very young I wanted to be special. I didn’t really know what special meant, but I wanted it to mean that I would be different than my parents. I loved my parents, it’s just that I didn’t want their life. I didn’t want to get married young and have a bunch of… Read More…

My Mother’s Hands

My Mother’s Hands

Growing up, I didn’t really look like anyone in my family.  Adults would study me and proclaim that I must have come from the Milk Man.  When I was mad at my family, for whatever reason, I’d use this as a tool to feel sorry for myself, casting myself as the outsider. There was, however,… Read More…

I Was A Controlling Mom

When my daughter asked me to chaperone the community service event she was organizing for school I casually said, “Sure, no problem.” But secretly my heart soared! It had been years since I was allowed to go on a field trip with either of my kids. The last few I attended were because I wasn’t… Read More…