The Savvy Path

    Mirror, Mirror – The Beauty Fairy Tale

    Once upon a time, there lived a wonderful and most bat-shit crazy Queen. Within her castle were rescued animals galore, four princes, one spirited princess and the strongest coffee maker in all the lands.

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    A Powerful Lesson of Mold

    That Nagging Voice 

    In the spring of 2000 I walked into the home for the first time and immediately knew something was wrong.

    I told my husband we needed to eliminate it from our house-hunting options, even though it was 5,500 square feet and would easily accommodate our eight children and three pets. We were preparing to move cross-country from Illinois to Colorado. Unable to find the right home, our realtor suggested we reconsider. “Think of the potential,” he said. My husband agreed. “It’s five levels. We’ll make it our own.” Chris’s optimism led me to a new vision for the house and how we might use it.

    A nagging feeling remained, but I pushed it down.

     We moved into the home in June. Within six months one of our children was diagnosed with a seizure disorder. Within a year our bird died and our dog was diagnosed with diabetes. Mood disorders surfaced in the kids. We were at the doctor repeatedly. I assumed it was the change in elevation.

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    I Despised Being "Sergeant No."

    Was I even a good mom today? Did my kids feel any love from me? Did we laugh or talk? 

     I despised being Sergeant No.

    After everything I unearthed during my research, I understood the world did not have my family’s health in its best interest. Constantly trying to shield them was exhausting. Modern parenting felt like pushing a double stroller through the Boston Marathon in a hailstorm while trying to protect the kiddos amidst a constant barrage of pelting, frozen peas.

    I first sensed this dark cloud when Tanner entered preschool. I was delighted for his first taste of independence and ninety minutes in a loving, nurturing environment. However, I silently observed the parent-supplied, non-birthday cupcakes twice the size of his pudgy fist, handed out for 10:00 a.m. snack. As a relatively new mom, I hadn’t found my voice. I kept my opinions to myself and rarely stood up for what I thought. Unspoken mom-pressure kept it that way. Instead, I watched the children’s eager eyes and giddy smiles as the “favorite moms” brought in frosted delights and the disappointment on their faces when I provided sliced apples and pretzel sticks.

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