Parenting – Page 2 – Pamela Klier-Weidner (PKW)

The Mother Load

Lately, I’ve been extra depleted physically, mentally and emotionally. This is not a complaint, but is provided as a frame of reference for the possible drivel I’m about to write.

While in this diminished state, I considered writing 100 things I love about my Mother, but the truth is, 100 isn’t nearly enough. I have way more than 100 things I love about my amazing Mom.

Instead, I thought I’d fantasize about 100 Mother’s Day gifts and/or events I’d absolutely love. Some are real, and some are imagined. Most are imagined, but I hope they’re real someday. Continue reading “The Mother Load”

The Concussion,the Head Trip & WHY?

My eldest daughter, Juliette, suffered a concussion yesterday. She tripped in the school locker room in total darkness. The power suddenly went out in the entire school, and in the locker room, there are no windows. Her head hit a bench. This is her second concussion in less than two years. She seems fine, so I’m going with that. Continue reading “The Concussion,the Head Trip & WHY?”

Amor Fati, Mi Amor

FUN FACT: Sometimes, I wear pants that on the inside, give me positive affirmations –

Hi Beautiful!

I have one pair of pants that in metallic silver writing, says,

You are Gorgeous!

Continue reading “Amor Fati, Mi Amor”

13

I don’t believe I’ve ever been officially diagnosed as obsessive compulsive, or maybe I’ve been diagnosed, but I don’t remember. Wouldn’t someone with OCD, remember a diagnosis like that?

I have always preferred even numbers over odd. I can’t explain why, but in 2006, (a nice, even year), I was scheduled to deliver my second daughter via cesarean section on December 13th. I decided it was time for me to stop worrying about odd numbers, let alone the “unlucky” number 13. Now, thanks to Charlotte, my second born, I have mostly embraced the number 13. Just don’t ask me to live on a 13th floor. Continue reading “13”

Life Outside of ONE Bubble. U2?

I am always doing something and all of the time, I am wired to do what I can to make things better in this world. My daughters know this, and have never known anything besides dedication to helping others for the greater good. * See definition of Philanthropy below.

Doing nothing is unfathomable to me. I hope you will read this in its entirety, to hear a plea that feels like the plea of my life thus far. Then, I hope you do something.

I’m going to straight up tell you that I’m about to turn 50 years old, and only wish for one gift. Also, I never ask for gifts. Ask my Parents or my kids. They’ll tell you.

Will you help me make a positive impact in this world the minute you stop reading this post? Lives depend upon it.

Continue reading “Life Outside of ONE Bubble. U2?”

Philanthropy is Phly: not Phancy

Every so often, I see myself as a Jewish version of Ann Romano from the 70’s sitcom, One Day at a Time, only, I’m without a Schneider. While this periodic thought gives me (and sometimes others) a good chuckle, it’s pretty spot on.

My daughters and I could really benefit from a Schneider, and sometimes, I daydream about having a Schneider-type nearby, only he doesn’t look like the actor, Pat Harrington, not that there was anything wrong with Pat Harrington’s looks. My fix-it guy is more like Schneider Jackman. He fixes everything, sings, dances, has a fine Australian dialect and is a philanthropist.

Continue reading “Philanthropy is Phly: not Phancy”

Loving the Petty Moments, Truly.

DISCLAIMER: I have been on a writing strike. Bear with me. Thanks.

When I was a child, I couldn’t fathom the idea that anyone was a Tom Petty fan. I disliked his singing style so much, I balked at listening to the meaningful music. Of course, I felt the same way about Bob Dylan and Janis Joplin. Now that I’m older, (and CLEARLY wiser,) I’ve grown to fall in love with and appreciate extraordinary talents that transcend a “purdy” or lyrical vocal quality. All of these artists’ songs strike deep chords inside of me and are among my very favorites.

Beginning on April 4th of this year, I celebrated spring, by springing free from a job that resulted in deep pain and angst in me. Once I left that position, I couldn’t help but notice that I was hearing a ton of Tom Petty songs. Perhaps I was just listening for them. It seemed that almost daily, I’d hear, I Won’t Back Down, The Waiting, Free Falling, and Learning to Fly.

I didn’t understand the meaning, or if there was any meaning for me. I just knew that feeling trapped and waiting to leave that job was the hardest part. I had to learn to fly again and while I was free falling, I was not going to back down or retreat.
Continue reading “Loving the Petty Moments, Truly.”

A Bout of Doubt is not the Death of Breath

Every so often, I don’t want to post or go public with the truth about myself. Right now, I’d prefer to post a comparative analysis of my body measurements, weight and BMI from age 18 to present day, or even post a daily food intake journal that demonstrates my consumption of three pieces of cake, more than I want to publish a post that states that I had, over the past several days, been feeling pretty down. I was stricken with fear, self-doubt and partial paralysis of my left brain, which in Pam-speak, translates to, “Quit now because you’ll never do or be anything you can actually feel good about. You’ve already failed, and when push comes to shove, you are wholly unlovable.”

Now, where’s the rest of that cake? Continue reading “A Bout of Doubt is not the Death of Breath”

I am Chosen and so is She: My Free Sister, “Ibby!”

I was given up for adoption at birth. When I was five-years old, my parents informed me that I was chosen by them because that’s how much they wanted me to be their child. I still recall the lovingly perfect way they told me about their reasons for adopting me. I have vivid and wonderful memories of the experience. What I specifically remember is that the kitchen counter was around my height and that I felt completely loved and wanted.

As I got older and entered into my teens, I began to feel totally abandoned by and resentful at my birth family. Like so many children who are given up for adoption, I felt an enormous void inside of me. (Later, I would realize my void had nothing to do with me being given up for adoption and everything to do with me being a teenager with baggage.) Continue reading “I am Chosen and so is She: My Free Sister, “Ibby!””

Labor Day & the Workaholic

DISCAIMER: This is a long ass post. I sure hope it’s worth the read. Writer (me), cannot be held responsible for winces, sighs, eye rolls or chocolate eating while reading said long ass post, unless reader (you), shares chocolate with writer (me.)

I can’t be 100% certain, but I don’t think I’ve actually written much, if anything, about my propensity toward workaholism. I am already loving the delicacy (slight touch o’bullshit) of this post, as I just mentioned having a “propensity” toward workaholism. Historically, it’s been far more than a propensity, slight leaning or minor tendency. It has been a…headfirst into any brick wall, full-speed ahead, balls out, whole mind, body and spirit, life-sucking activity. Continue reading “Labor Day & the Workaholic”