Despite the growing popularity of sending a thank you note via email, I still believe in a proper note card. Aren’t they just lovely to receive? And here are two of my favorite companies right now for beautifully designed stationery. Joy by Mel Lim offers creative, artistic cards that are printed on acid-free felt paper containing 30% post-consumer fibers. Pack of 6 cards for $28.

And another fave is Patisserie.  This company offers the sweetest, most darling cards. I just loved these monogrammed ones…

Set of 6 for $16 dollars.

Because sometimes an email just won’t do.

I’ve been feeling something lately. Something that keeps percolating to the top of my self conscious. Then I quickly stuff it down, the exact same way I attempt to wrestle my daughter’s raspberry colored sleeping bag into its proper case.

But feelings are just bastards. They refuse to go away until you take a very deep breath and face them head on. So again and again, they bubble defiantly to the surface.

So I change my strategy. I will experience these emotions. And then, just maybe, they will stop following me around so relentlessly.

What am I feeling? A loss of some sort -  perhaps freedom. Maybe youth. Or possibly choices.

I’m enormously, incredibly, unbelievably grateful for everything I have (you see that I fear being punished by the Gods for even admitting anything but sheer happiness at all times). I adore and love my husband, my children, my life. It is all I ever hoped for but never quite trusted could all come true. Not a moment goes by that I don’t feel overwhelming gratitude for all my blessings.

But lately I’ve felt a bit out of choices. Longing for a time, when everything was unknown and scary and filled with promise and fueled with addictive energy. I miss the exhilarating newness of those experiences that are behind me now. Behind. Me. Now.

I could hardly admit all this to myself, never mind dare to find out if other 30 something and 40 something moms felt the same.

But then I started to hear rumblings. A knowing nod from a friend.  A similar confession from another.

And then I read this brave, honest, incredibly perfect post by IzzyMom. To quote IzzyMom, “You can call it whatever you want – a mid-life crisis, a housewife’s lament, whatever.”

My friend Alex suggested, a “late 30s, still sexy crisis” as a far better alternative to my self-described “mid-life crisis.”

But whatever you call it, it’s a relief to finally honor my own emotions.

It’s ok to have longing for a time that has passed. It’s ok to miss the newness. It’s ok to confess that everything which brings you such incredible joy and happiness in your present life, can sometimes, now and then, feel a bit limiting.

Because we are just human. We are wives. And mothers. And we are real and not perfect. And it’s ok.

It doesn’t make me love my husband any less. Or my children any less. Or my life any less. Because this is truly, deeply the life I want.

So it’s ok.

And with this understanding, I suddenly feel a bit more free. The freedom to feel what is real.

mama bird notes:

Contributing mama Daphne Biener’s kindergartner is coming home in tears because of… art class. Say what?! Click on contributing mamas to find out who’s causing all the trouble.

I mean, how long has been since I’ve done a giveaway?! Too long mama birdies.  So this week I am giving away a cosmetic brush travel set ($45 value) from Design Brushes. Includes 6 essential brushes including a powder brush, shadow brush and angled liner. Because I think you deserve something new in that makeup bag. To enter, just leave a comment this week on the mama bird diaries and I’ll randomly choose a winner. Thanks ladies.

By Contributing Mama Daphne Biener

Looks like we’re going to make it through kindergarten.  I guess that all Acadia really needed was some time.  Time, that is, and a cupcake or twelve.

With almost every kid in her class celebrating a birthday in August or September, it’s a rare day that she comes home without frosting smeared all over her face. I’ll tell you, a cupcake a day goes a long way towards developing some happy-about-school feelings.

There is one thing in the ever-changing roller coaster ride of parenting that I have found to be completely reliable.  As soon as you get settled in; as soon as you get your head wrapped around an issue; as soon as that last tear has been wiped and you start thinking, sure I can handle this -  then WHAM something new crashes into life like a tornado in a toaster oven. You just never see it coming.

Like elementary school art class.

Art class? Oh you mean your district is cutting back on the humanities? No, you see, that issue I would have expected. An outrage, yes, but within the realm of what is out there.

No, my almost five year-old has her little fists clenched in rage over her school art teacher.  The first day of Friday art class, she came home in tears, muttering incomprehensibly about the teacher making her put the wrong kind of feathers on her birds when she ALREADY knows how to make a bird.

I’m sorry to admit that I did not really take her seriously. She stopped crying and things rolled smoothly ahead into the next week until Friday showed up and she came home in tears, again.  Citing art as the problem, again.

This time, I sat with it, wading through the hyperventilation and the sobs until, at last, I deciphered the issue.  I wanted to believe her, but come on, really? What kind of person, never mind an elementary school teacher would DRAW ON A CHILD’S PICTURE DESPITE HER DESPERATE PLEAS TO LEAVE IT ALONE!?

I got back-up over the weekend from her big sister and a couple of kids in the neighborhood.  All of them concurred: Yup. He always draws on the kids’ pictures.

Why, I asked the older girls, why would he draw on your pictures?

You know, to make them prettier.

ARRRRGGGGGGHHHHH.   THAT IS TOTALLY INSANE!

Now, I am aware that I have some inherent biases. When my little Van Gogh creates things like this wonderful portrait of “Parents as King and Queen,”

I smile, and I gush.  I do not analyze nor do I offer thoughtful critique.  I do not point out that, gee, how could a family so clearly plagued by clubbed limbs be elected to the throne?  I just hang the thing on the wall.

I myself make no claims at being artistic. It doesn’t bother me that my rabbits don’t look particularly rabbitty. I mourned when the kids learned to assemble Mr. Potato Head without three eyes and an arm sticking out of an ear.  I adore the abstract creatures produced by their wild imaginations. I bet Picasso’s mother would agree.

So maybe the goal of the class is just to produce massive amounts of identical, perfectly representational works of art?  Not according to the school web site, which claims that art should “give rise to ideas, invention and imagination.”  Hmmm, imagination?

Yesterday I went in and spoke with Acadia’s teacher, who agreed to take the issue up with the art teacher.  I reassured Acadia, but explained realistically that this teacher might not change his ways.  No matter what, I told her, you can make your own pictures your own way when you are at home.

And can I rip up all the ones I make in art class?

Yes, I nodded sadly, you can.

And then I, my dear, will rip the teacher in half in a mano-v-mama show-down at the Crayola corral.

To read more of Daphne’s work, visit her eco-fabulous blog, A Greener Biener.

So today, my beautiful Dylan is 4.

We bought her a princess dress. I know, a bit hypocritical (ok a lot) after my criticism of the princess/barbie bikes, but Target finally broke me. The human spirit can only withstand so much princess mania without finally surrendering.

Today is also my 6th wedding anniversary.

Do you think Rick and I are one of those couples who are starting to look alike?

To celebrate, we visited my dad and some of his close friends, Dan and Sally, in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. Man, is it gorgeous up there with rolling hills, lush greenery and majestic horses.

And wow, it’s incredibly dark at night.

And breathlessly quiet.

And everyone leaves their doors unlocked.

Is it me or does this scenario beg for a serial killer?

Since we had lots of free babysitters on hand like my father and his friends, Rick and I, decided to go out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary. We stepped out in the pitch dark night and climbed into the car.

“Why is it so dark in here? Why aren’t the car lights going on?” Rick wondered out loud.

“I don’t know,” I responded. “AGHHHHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed.

“What?! What?! What are you screaming about?!!!!” Rick shouted back.

“Oh sorry. Nothing. I thought there might be an intruder in the backseat so I reached back and felt something, ” I explained. “Turns out it was just one of the car seats.”

Rick just rolled his eyes.

And think, he’s got only six years with me under his belt.

A whole bunch more to go, buddy.  We’re just getting started here.

I might as well tell you.

I went to this Starbucks Better Breakfast focus group thingy. I just felt in my heart they would give me a free coffee card. Sometimes you know these things deep in your caffeinated bones.

Before I headed over, I actually enjoyed a large latte from a small neighborhood coffee shop. One that doesn’t even offer breakfast. Believe me, I felt a great deal of shame.

But then I refocused my corporate energy and headed to Starbucks.

These Starbucks representatives were so nice (clearly, they missed this post) and generous with their healthier breakfast alternatives – like oatmeal (140 calories), apple bran muffin (330 calories) and a cherry fruit and nut bar (250 calories).

I must say my fave offering was a power protein plate (hard boiled egg, mini-bagel with peanut butter, fruit and cheese). Definitely something I would share with my kids.

Of course the power platter, plus a grande latte, plus a couple of those organic chocolate milks and well, you might have to apply for a second job as a barista just to cover the cost. But if you can swing the price tag, it’s a nice little breakfast.

And these Starbucks folks really listened to me and my riveting ideas for the future of their company… like recycle bins! String cheese! A kid’s play area! Ok, I didn’t mention the play area.

I wanted to but I got intimidated by the fancy foodies in attendance like Food Mayhem, Serious Eats and Cheap Healthy Good. Plus exercise smartie Fit Esteem. And I had already admitted to giving my kids candy to get them in the stroller. So really, I had said enough.

Turns out, I did get a free coffee card. $5 bucks. Seems a little stingy, but the company is floundering a bit.

After I brought Better Breakfasts to the world, I still felt a wave of corporate longing so I headed to Target in New Jersey.

I wanted to buy Dylan a bike for her 4th birthday. After wandering through so many aisles I thought I would have to send for a search and rescue party (next time I’ll bring more water and extra layers), I finally found the bicycles.

And here were the options for a girl Dylan’s size.

1. Barbie (A bike for you and your Barbie. Barbie actually has her own seat on the handlebars!)
2. Disney Princess (Beautiful princesses adorned the entire bike.)
3. Jewels and Pearls (Wait, aren’t pearls a kind of jewel? Not sure. Will research.)

That’s it.

Wait, that can’t be it.

Yup, that’s it.

Now I’m a very girly girl who isn’t usually bothered by the plethora of princesses and Barbies in our 21st century culture. But even I was sort of disgusted. My gosh, don’t they just sell normal bikes anymore? Like a nice yellow one with colorful tassels hanging from the handlebars?

After much internal debate, I just couldn’t. I left without a bike.  But I did purchase the plastic Hannah Montana musical microphone. At least Hannah is a girl who doesn’t sit around and wait around for some dumb prince. That gal went out and made something of herself.