herbadmother herbadmother

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Catherine Connors  Coming soon: Project Maverick, a collaboration platform for rebel girls. LA / Wonder Valley


It's my birthday today, and I didn't ask for much. Just a few wishes: for a year of big skies and pink sunsets, of horizon-chasing and dream-building, of sequined tights and hiking boots and playing in unexpected places, of skip-hop-jump-running toward a future ever-lit with possibility. Of hard work and great fun and love. Not much. Just enough.

There's your horizon. Look beyond it.

My friend Rebecca is making this amazing film - @pansfilm - and until tomorrow an angel backer is going to double all @kickstarter pledges supporting the project. Please go pledge - for all the #foundgirls and all the rebel girls like Emilia, for whom Neverland isn't some boy-exclusive imaginary, but a limitless horizon of possibility. (links in bios at @girlsgonechild and @pansfilm )

This scrubby little heartbreaker is 9 years old today. Nine. NINE. If you'll excuse me, I'll be over here trying to keep the pieces of my heart from spilling all over the floor.

'You would not have seen a crying woman in pajama pants, clutching a dead cat, sitting in a trampled bed of bright yellow flowers. You would have just seen me, with my heart in my arms.' (link in bio)

For over 17 years she was our best girl, our beauty, our big-souled blue-eyed spirit guardian, and this afternoon, she died in my arms. It was a gift to kiss and hold and whisper goodbye to her as she passed, but my heart broke, is breaking. Bye-bye, baby girl, sweet George. We love you.

They made me. #mothersday

Our sweetest pretty girl is very ill, and we're sad. She's had a long life but we want her for longer, because love is selfish and we are selfish. We are holding her very tightly. We love her so.

He told me that he's thinking of ways to boost his courage. "I have a lot of courage already, Mommy, but I'd like to have a little more. Maybe I could do courage training." And what would courage training involve? "Oh, more karate, maybe. Telling myself scary stories. You could sneak up behind me and yell boo. Or I could just fight a bear." Or that.

"Sure, at the end of Disney's Peter Pan, Wendy is allowed to stay in the nursery – and in childhood – a little while longer, but the story has made it clear: adulthood is in her bones. It’s her destiny, as a girl, in a way that it just isn’t for Peter or the other boys. She’s a girl-mother, a Wendybird: her whole being comports to her future as a caregiver, a grown-up woman dedicated to furthering the cycle of family, for whom magic and imagination will soon be a distant memory.

I did not want to be Wendy. I was sad for Wendy. Wendy, I thought, didn’t have a choice." I want my own daughter to have a choice. (New post at the blog, inspired by @pansfilm - link in bio.) #peterpan #wendy #fairytales #changethenarrative #likeagirl

Today in "Time Is Moving Too Fast And I Literally Cannot Stand It"... is this what it was like for our own parents, huddled at the kitchen table with photo albums and glasses of wine, wiping tears from their cheeks and pulling us in for awkward hugs? "You're so grown-up now," my mother would say. "I don't know when it happened." And I would pull myself out of her arms and grumble ("okay, MOM, ugh!") and rummage in the cupboards for a snack while she sat there, aching, missing me. I'm scrolling on a iPhone, saving images from my husband's Facebook gallery to my photo roll while I drink mint tea and wipe my cheeks, wondering when it happened. Aching; missing them. But it's all the same. It's always been the same. They knew and we know and someday - someday - our kids will know, too. Love is at once beyond time and totally bound up in it, and our hearts have to learn to live in the now and the always and also in the long-gone. And that's amazing, but also hard. So hard. But worth it.

She's off to D.C. this week, for her sixth grade class trip. She strode off this evening with her suitcase and her backpack, looking closer to 19 than to 11, and as she turned to shout, one last time, 'I'll miss you, Mommy!' I had to physically stop myself from running after her for one more hug. And this is just for a WEEK. 6 days. 6th grade class trip. It's not even CAMP. How am I ever going to survive college? How am I going to get through these last 7 years or so with her and not have my heart collapse from missing her before she's gone? How have I even gotten this far? I've been missing future her from the moment I realized she wasn't going to be my baby forever. Even as I've longed to meet the girl and woman of her tomorrow, I've struggled to cling to the child of her today. Oof, my heart.

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