My oldest son just turned four, and he warms my heart and breaks it every single day.  I can’t come to terms with how fast everything is happening. I try to live in the moment, to slow down time. But it never stops.

They never really tell you how unsettling it feels to be a parent, while simultaneously trying to figure out how to be a parent.

That’s one of the reasons I felt compelled to accept the position of Race Coordinator for the 2010 Moms’ Run, a 5k run/walk to benefit the Ruth Rhoden Craven Foundation for Postpartum Depression Awareness. I have not experienced PPD and do not claim to know what that feels like. What I do know is that many new moms, including myself, have suffered from fluctuating hormones, sleep deprivation and physical, mental and emotional fatigue. We’re told it’s just the baby blues, but we wonder if it’s something more.

New moms need support. They need to be educated about the warning signs of postpartum depression and their families do, too. Doctors should check for signs of PPD, as frequently and as thoroughly as they test for complications like gestational diabetes. And pediatricians should know what to look for, because moms spend more time taking their babies to well-checks than seeing their own physicians.

On Saturday, May 8, it’s all about Mom and those who love her. I hope you’ll join me in tearing down the walls of taboo surrounding postpartum depression. If you would like more information on the 2010 Moms’ Run click here.

If this cause has personal meaning for you, leave a comment. I’d love to hear your stories.

That’s when I remembered I was supposed to send my son to preschool in his “silliest, Suessiest socks or shoes.” My son is very silly, and very Suessy, but all his socks are white, and he has outgrown his obnoxious Thomas the Train boots and fuzzy Wiggles slippers. So I needed to buy or borrow something.

Two days earlier, I told myself not to forget. I told my husband to remind me not to forget. We both forgot. So Friday morning, I dragged my children out the door 30 minutes early to stop by Wal-Mart on the way to school.  I went to the kid shoe section in search of some funny slippers, only to learn they were out of stock until the holidays.

As I was rethinking my plan, my son spotted a pair of Lightning McQueen tennis shoes.  I didn’t find them particularly silly or Suessy, but they would do. He was so excited about his new zippy shoes, he started running down the aisle.

“Stop running…” I could barely get the words out of my mouth. I saw what was happening but couldn’t do a thing about it.

SMACK!

My son’s face collided with a metal pole in the center of the aisle. He started screaming, and the baby joined the chorus. I pulled off his glasses and examined his forehead, watching the bruise form under his skin. A Wal-Mart employee heard the commotion and checked to see what had happened. Then, she insisted we fill out an incident report. We were now five minutes late to school. (I take whacks to the head very seriously, and despite all the drama, fortunately, it was a minor bump.)

On the way to the checkout line, we saw a pair of purple, polka-dotted socks. Very silly and very Suessy. My son’s smile came back. We grabbed the socks. Now, we were 10 minutes late to school.

“Sorry, this lane is closed,” the cashier said and pointed to the open lanes on the other side of the store.

I trekked across the store, made the purchase and grabbed the bag.  Then the clerk said, “Oh, I forgot to ring up the socks.” I grit my teeth and bit my tongue.

Once in the car, I dressed my son in his new purple polka-dotted socks and Lightning McQueen shoes. I rolled up his jeans to his knees for effect. He was happy, but I was unnerved.

We arrived at school 30 minutes late. I told the teacher about my son’s face-to-face meeting with the pole and asked her to keep an eye on him. He was already showing off his purple-polka dotted socks.

I left asking myself questions that were ultimately pointless, because what’s done is done. How could I forget? How did something that was supposed to be fun turn out to be, so, not?

Was I really the same woman who gave an inspirational talk to a group of moms earlier in the week?

Then I remembered a message I received from a mom in the audience.  You can read more over at Hybrid Mom.

Did I mention I had the weekend to myself? I retreated to a hotel in my beautiful historic city and spent two glorious days locked inside my room. No TV. No noise. My husband gets credit for arranging this get-away. I know. I know. He’s a keeper.

It was actually a working vacation. I’m giving a talk in Columbia Tuesday and I needed some time alone to flush out ideas. I’m also revamping my blog… and I’m going against type and revealing it long before it’s done. My goal is to have it double as my professional Web site while maintaining the authenticity of the blog. This blog is my baby, and it was actually a spring board for another project I’m about to launch. More on that soon.

I don’t put a lot of stock in horoscopes, but I appreciated the timing of this one:

“Stop procrastinating before you miss out on something good. You are the only one holding you back. Take whatever you have done and launch it as is.”

You can read the rest over at Hybrid Mom.

That’s exactly what I experienced as soon as I hit “publish” on yesterday’s post. I felt empowered, and your comments were most appreciated.

Now.

It’s the weekend, ya’ll. Time to have some fun!

It’s freezing outside here in Charleston, so it seems like an appropriate time to show off this cute Sunshine Award, given to me by Heather over at Acting Balanced.

Part of my job as Little Miss Sunshine is to share the love… so I’m passing this award to some of my favorite writers and bloggers who add lots of light to my day:

Becca’s Byline

Becca is “An American woman, newly embarking on the second half of her century here on earth” reflecting on life in general. Becca is a beautiful writer. Her posts are filled with refreshing honesty and universal themes. I relate to so much of what she says.

Gamecock Mama

Another great writer talking about life in general, her work, her family, and cheating Governors.

Giulietta the Muse

Giulietta is an “inspirational rebel”  who believes the key to loving our lives is taking back our power. She radiates coolness and her blog posts make me want to stand up and applaud.

The Drunch

Drinks + Lunch = Drunch. Love it. The author of this blog cranked out 4 children in 18 months (you’ll just have to go over there and visit to find out how) and in my opinion, she deserves all the Drunch she wants.

Robin’s Chicks

Robin, to me, is the ruler of Mommy Land. She’s super funny and has written a book about raising three girls who are just as funny as their mom. Lots of good, clean, chicky fun happening over at Robin’s place.

Whole Latte Life

Fiction writer, Joanne DeMaio, had me at Latte. Her inspiring posts have kept me around for another cup, or two (or three).

We Can Fly

If you don’t know my sistergirlfriend, Doretha, by now, you can read this interview I did with her last summer. Her blog is a daily dose of inspiration… reminding us all that we can fly.

The Sassy Steel Magnolia

The author of this blog makes me want to throw on a pair of red high heels and show ‘em who’s boss. You may remember the guest post I wrote over at Jennie’s blog back in December. Don’t miss her mid-week music snack… a little somethin’ somethin’ to get you over the hump.

And last, but definitely not least, my deepest appreciation and utmost respect go to Denise Turner, my very first writer friend. Denise is a “quirky writer on a mission” and her website is equal parts brilliant and hilarious.

Happy Friday, Everyone. Pay some of my friends a visit if you get a chance.

I’m realizing this is an ongoing process. I continue to strip away old beliefs and habits that try to hold me back.  Lately, I’ve become increasingly tired. Not the fatigue that comes from lack of sleep… a caffeine fix and a nap usually remedies that. It’s a sluggishness that comes over me when I’m out of sync with myself.

How did this happen?

I have so many things I want to write about… and I’m not writing it. I’m holding it all in my head. Concerned the topics don’t fit the blog or won’t be of interest to my readers.

I’ve wanted to post more frequently, get into a rhythm, really stretch myself and explore my writing voice, but I know a lot of you subscribe to this blog via email and I’ve been concerned about cluttering your inbox. That you will see another post come in and say, “Her again?”

I become overly consumed with perception and then I lose my voice… it’s a pattern that circles back around every now and then. Thankfully, I’ve matured to a point that I can recognize when it’s happening and regroup.

What about you? Do you ever struggle with “keeping it real?” How does it feel when you give yourself permission to be yourself?

Have you ever had those days when everything is clicking and moving and grooving—you’re on fire with productivity? I have those days, too. When I’m drunk on adrenaline, I tell myself I can perform at that high level every day of the week. I think I am superwoman, without realizing I’m flying at lightning speed to burnout.

And then I crash.

There are so many tips and tricks out there teaching us how to be more efficient with our time, and I have found them to be very helpful. But sometimes I just need to take a break…

Click here to read more at Hybrid Mom.

I can remember how magical it felt to lock eyes with my son.

Four years and 40 pounds later, you’re still my angel.

Today, I’m reflecting on my own journey over the past four years. Click here to read more over at Hybrid Mom.

She was married and had her first child by age 19. Her job was to tend to the house and the baby. There was no discussion about this; it was understood. “It’s just what you did,” she said.

We discussed how women today have so many choices, and how, with the freedom to choose comes the pressure to balance it all, to have it all, to be all things to all people.

Because it’s Not So SuperMomday, you can read the rest of this story over at Hybrid Mom. Click here to read “So Many Questions, So Little Time.”

I have plenty to do. But I also spend a lot of time walking around in circles. Wait, what was I doing? Where was I going? There are lots of words to describe me, but “efficient” is not on top of the list.

So I decided to do one thing to help increase my efficiency. The goal: spend less time walking in circles!

Last Saturday, I took a moment to plan the dinner menu for the week. If this is something you already do, please resist the urge to laugh at me. Doing one simple thing reduced the time I spent shopping for food and walking around my kitchen, opening and shutting the freezer and pantry doors, trying to figure out what to make for dinner, contemplating what I was in the mood to eat.

So this week, I’m going to incorporate one more thing. I’m going to draw a protective wall around the few hours of quiet time I have. My son is in school two mornings a week and the baby usually naps. So I have about four quiet hours to move some of my professional projects forward.

During those times: no phone, no email, no twitterbooking. I can do those things when Blake is on my hip and Dillon is swinging from my limbs like a monkey.

Do you spend a lot of time walking in circles? What’s one thing you do to create more time and space in your life?

I’m always impressed by my stream-of-consciousness writing… it’s full of insight. The words are rough and uncensored, but they make perfect sense. They remind me that truth resides within, and connecting with the truth always leads to freedom.

That, to me, is the healing power of writing.

Years ago, I quit my TV job (for the first time) and moved to Portland, Oregon. I had all these ideas about what moving across the country would be like… I imagined that such a drastic change, living on the “left coast,” would be the remedy to my unrest. Instead, I experienced an identity crisis, completely fell apart and spent days on the couch battling bouts of depression. I prayed for answers. I waited and waited. And the more time passed, the more I unraveled.

In many ways, I was grieving. I was experiencing the death of the dream. I had made choices that sent me down a path I didn’t plan. I had altered my course in a way that couldn’t be easily reversed.

Before I moved to Portland, I started keeping a journal. On rainy Portland mornings, I would go to the library to check my email (it was 2002, okay?). While there, I browsed the aisles and started checking out books. Books on spirituality, on understanding God’s will, on how to recover when life knocks the wind out of you.

As I navigated the stages of grief, I continued to write. In this process of being stripped down, I was becoming a more authentic version of myself. As I moved towards acceptance, I began to feel lighter. I was on the slow road to healing.

So in many ways, my move cross-country turned out to be exactly what I expected. A remedy to my unrest. Funny how that works.

So what about you? Do you keep a journal? You don’t have to consider yourself a writer to benefit from the healing powers of putting your thoughts and feelings on the page. Your own insights and truth have the power to surprise and heal you, too.