Posted on March 25, 2015 by Jennifer Wolfe
This has been a year of change – a year of change at home, at work, in my writing. I’ve watched my home transform from a busy hive of teenage girls and boys – ski racers and pole vaulters and children I’ve witnessed transform from kindergarten to graduation – to a place of quiet, a place where I find myself with much of the extra time I always dreamed of.
I’ve watched my daughter grow and blossom from afar, hoping to catch a glimpse on Instagram or Snapchat as she lives her dreams hundreds of miles away, savoring every image I see of her as she tackles college like she took on a ski course.
I’ve watched my son rest and heal and grow taller and stronger, towering above me as he faces his challenges head on every day, savoring each day we are together rather than missing his absence.
I’ve watched my classroom evolve with new technology, new students from all over the world, and new classes that have pushed me to intense levels of simultaneous exhaustion and joy, savoring each time I see the smile on their faces as they find their confidence.
I’ve watched my writing transform, seen my website grow and blossom and become more beautiful than ever before. I’ve watched my audience change, witnessed my words reach out into the universe – infuriating some, and soothing others – savoring every opportunity I have to connect.
And as I’ve learned with nineteen years of motherhood, I’ve learned to savor every moment. I’m training myself to be present, to notice, to look up, to feel gratitude. I’ve used Instagram to record #365gratitude – sharing a moment each day to savor the ordinary.
So when Midlife Boulevard asked for writing about motherhood, and working moms, I knew just what to submit – and I’m happy to share it with you here, today. My story about savoring every little bit is featured today – you can read it here – and while you’re on Midlife Boulevard, be sure to savor every little bit of their amazing content, too.
Motherhood Is Meant To Be Savored originally appeared here on mamawolfe.
Posted on December 31, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe
September came and went with two freshmen living in two states – an official emptiness in our home.
I made friends with a great new author and read some terrific books.
Meeting Erin Lindsay McCabe
Cameron turned 15, and continued to heal his broken leg and dashed dreams.
Healing a broken leg
I was finally able to write about the change in our lives with Lily going away to college.
Lily loving her new college life.
The year ends with an interlude between pain and healing, our family back together, and hope for 2015.
Hope for health and happiness in 2015
Through all this change and tumult in my life, I turned to writing; my favorite posts of the last third of the year were:
Broken
Extraordinary in the Ordinary
These Moms, They Don’t Know Me
Home
Interlude
A huge, grateful thank you to all of my readers, my friends, and to my family who tolerates my subjecting them to sharing their lives here on mamawolfe. Wishing you all a happy and healthy 2015.
All my best,
Jennifer
Posted on December 29, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe
Oh, the spring and summer months, so simultaneously anticipated and dreaded. Months and years of preparation came to a head, as my children and I were thrust into turbulent change.
Lily turned 18 and graduated from high school; we saw joyful high school traditions and the rewards of hard work on the snow and the pole vault.
Senior Ball
Lily setting her high school record in women’s pole vaulting.
At the shore, we celebrated endings and beginnings of next chapters.
Cameron at Santa Cruz
Lily at Santa Cruz beach.
I experienced a true ’empty nest’ that terrified me. So I traveled – without kids.
Deschutes River
And in one of the most spectacularly horrible Augusts in recent memory, life turned completely and inexplicably upside down as dreams were dashed for one, opened for another.
broken leg in Oregon
This quote, by William Stafford, reflected this tumultuous time precisely:
“There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or die; and you suffer and get old. Nothing you do can stop time’s unfolding. You don’t ever let go of the thread.”
Through it all, I tried to keep writing, to reflect the upheaval; as my posts were sporadic and at times, many far too difficult to write in the moment. Some of my favorite pieces from May, June, July and August were:
Every Day Is Mother’s Day For Me
Past And Present
A Month of Quiet
Letter To My College Bound Daughter
Today, I Love You
The theme of change and possibilities culminated in the fall and winter…more in my next post.
Posted on December 28, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe
Lily and Cameron racing at Sugar Bowl, January 2014
The year started with fireworks in the snow. Ski racing was front and center for Lily and Cameron, and me, by default.
Cam at Sugar Bowl Academy
College acceptance letters started!
I struggled with changing perspective in motherhood as Cameron moved to Sugar Bowl Ski Academy, and Lily received college acceptance letters.
On our way to Salt Lake City, Utah, for our last two college visits.
Lily and I took our last college exploration adventure before her big decision.
And, I did a bit of writing, too. Some of my favorite posts were:
Thanks, Coach, For The Life Lessons
I Thought I Knew What Was Best For My Kid, But He Had Other Ideas
At This Moment, She’s Right Where She Needs To Be
Live A Life of Amazement
I had no idea that these moments, these bits of time and change and glimmers of possibilities, were only the beginning of the upheaval to come in 2014….more to come in my next post.
Posted on December 1, 2014 by Jennifer Wolfe
Home
“How did you fit everything in that orange backpack, sweetie?”
The sun streamed in through her sliding glass door. It was mid-morning, and she already looked like she had never left for college. A wet towel hung over her pink desk chair, and her fuzzy sky-blue bathrobe still lay carelessly tossed on the floor. Her closet doors were flung open, and she rummaged around as she replied, “I don’t know. I didn’t pack much. I’m trying to figure out what to take home.”
My breath caught in my throat. Home? She is home…at least, I thought so. She was nearly born in this house, in this very room. She slept and woke and laughed and cried and lived, all right here. At home.
I gazed out the window, searching the landscape for the right way to respond. Keep it casual, I thought.
“Right. It’s gotten a bit colder there, hasn’t it? At home…” I remarked, casually walking out the door so the sunlight didn’t catch the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes.
This post was inspired by the novel The Mill River Redemption by Darcie Chan, about two estranged sisters who are forced to work together in order to uncover the hidden inheritance by their mother. Join From Left to Write on December 2nd as we discuss The Mill River Redemption and enter to win a copy of the novel. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes.
