Positively Mom Street

Okay, so maybe it isn't an actual sisterhood with meetings, wine and cookies - but please tell me I'm not alone in this weird compulsion to hold on to clothes that JUST. DO. NOT. FIT. The infamous Express jeans Why? Why would I keep a pair of jeans that pre-dates my oldest child (who - for the record - is 15!) and I have not worn regularly in at least a decade.  If I remember correctly these jeans cost $50 in 2003. I'm pretty sure I've got the best return on my investment possible. Or does it have to do with holding on to a lost part of my life? The identity I had before I became head butt wiper and crisis mitigator.  When I was just Kim - this glorious 28 year old with nothing but time, money and my entire 30's still in front of me. 24 year old me & my scruffy hubby I honestly don't know.  Maybe it's to prove to someone (ok - myself) that despite being just shy of 45 I've kept it together enough to squeeze my two kiddo body into pa

I was 6 years old and my Mom was getting remarried. My Dad died when I was two, and I was anxious and excited for her fiance  to be my new Dad. I remember the day he took my brother and I to meet our new Grandparents. He was very stern in the car and told Jeff and I the rules. We could say "Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Racquet" and be very quiet and respectful. I was so nervous - what if t hey didn't like me?  As we walked towards the house, they stepped out to meet us, two strangers destined to be family. I will never forget her smile, or how she hugged me as she said "My name is Grandma Betty and this is Grandpa Hersch!! We're so happy to finally meet you." All my nervousness disappeared in her  . <3 She was a constant in my life - always spirited, always unique and always 100% her authentic self. Forever young at heart and full of life, she simply inspired me. I  <3   you Gram. Give my love to Grandpa - I'm sad you are gone but so happ

"Son of a bitch, give me a drink"  I think this pretty much sums up election night 2016. Regardless of candidate choice, drinks were drunk  - in celebration and commiseration. The question is - are you ready to put down the bottle?  Be cause whether your candidate won or lost - we're in it for the long haul.   "Meet the new boss...same as the old boss" Did you know only one half of our entire nation actually VOTED in the election?  And only HALF of them voted for either major party candidate?  So that means just about 25% voted Trump, and 25% voted Clinton - and 50% said "None of this is for me" and opted out.  Why? Alienation?  Discrimination?  Disenfranchisement? No matter but the fact remains that less than half of the nation felt the candidates were running "for them."  And that's pretty depressing.  "Darkness has a hunger that's insatiable - and lightness has a call that's hard to hear"

...to get through this thing called life. 1987.  I'd just turned 13 years old and received a cassette tape for my birthday.  "Purple Rain" by Prince. This is a cassette tape!  It played music in the dark ages. Now, we won't go into what would compel otherwise solid parents to give a 13 year old this music, but they did.  And to put it mildly - it rocked my world. I listened to that tape relentlessly.  Every. Single. Day.  I knew all the words to every song - even Darling Nikki - though I really had no idea what he was talking about.  Still not sure I do at 42 - but that is another blog for another day. But I loved it.  Loved it.  I was blown away by the sound - but mostly by the man.  I'd never met anyone in real life ANYTHING like Prince.  Granted - I should preface this by saying I grew up in a very rural, very white area of Upstate New York.  So - my world view was a smidge limited - but that didn't dim the wonder in the least bit. Me in ou

Happy New Year! 2016 is here and along with it comes a hefty dose of reality.  I'm not sure about you, but I'm fairly certain I survived solely on sugar and alcohol in December. I am feeling it in January.  I know I should get serious and get back on track - and I will - I always do - but wonder if I need to enlist an old foe - the scale. A little background.  About 2 years ago I decided I was not going to weigh myself anymore.  Just wasn't going to do it.  Mostly because for the past 20 years or so the scale has ruled my life.  The slightest fluctuations (up or down) set the tone for my day.  Lost .1 pounds?  It was a red letter day of joy and happiness.  Gained .1 pounds?  It was a truly terrible, horrible, no good day.  And so it went.  Day after day, year after year I allowed this tool to determine my moods, set the tone for my day and generally control my life. One day I decided enough was enough.  I stopped stepping on the scale.  I figured I could determine my

I've been thinking about my younger years.  A lot. My husband and I have been a couple since 1992 - I was 17 when we started dating; I just turned 41 this past summer.  It's an incredibly amazing yet bizarre experience to share that many years with one person.  To grow from child to full fledged adults. When we got together I didn't think we'd last through the summer (my track record was love 'em and leave 'em) but this was different.  He was different. In 1995 we lived in a small walk up on Lark Street in Albany.  We were both full time students working internships without a spare penny to our names.  We had a beat up car that would overheat every time we drove it.  We would eat maybe one meal a day and it was usually cereal (thanks Cheerios).  I always worried about money but somehow - even when it was super tight and things got tough - we made it through. This morning I heard "One Headlight" by The Wallflowers.  That song always makes me think o