Heidi G karlsson

My kids live to have people over. I usually like my space. My time. My privacy. I like to be.. alone with them. And the classical music. Well, today the school's weren't open due to a strike. And I love my kids. .. and my neighbours kids too.. So we invited some extra's over for a little artistic exploration. Bought supplies and snacks and opened the door. I had in my mind quiet children gluing and colouring. I thought they would sit. . . for a long time. I thought I would stand and sip the latte that I had just lovingly made for myself from the stove top and my own little non-machine milk frother that I am very excited to have, and I would observe these little geniuses. I would make no rules. I would have no opinions. I would only comment and say, "my, my, how wonderful it is to be creative."  Now, you might think that we didn't have a good time. We did. But it wasn't what I expected. For a couple of days Noah has wanted to make a ghost truck. He...

A while ago, like a few years, someone told me the quickest way to happiness was to lower my standards. And she laughed and I laughed. And I probably blogged about it. But it made me really mad. The problem (or the wonderful thing, depending) with me is that I am an idealist. I have great expectations. Expectations, now there is another topic. However, to stick with one thought, we are talking about happiness and standards. Specifically we were talking about having a clean house. I was frustrated with how my home was always messy. I wanted  a clean house that I could feel happy in. There is a lot of motherly sentiment about messy house, happy kids... and women, whose children are grown, saying things like, if there was one thing I would do again, I wouldn't worry so much about the messy house. Baloney. That's not my house by the way. She says that  because her kids are grown and she would give anything to go back in time and enjoy them in that special way that they are ...

Yes. This is our family photo. And I love it. And I love our family. And these last 5 years have been the most difficult years of my life. Recently I posted our family photo on facebook. I was shocked. 70 likes? Or something like that. 20 comments. For our little page and our small number of friends, I thought those numbers were pretty high. Don't get me wrong, this is a great photo. We are who we are. We have some great times, some hilarious kids, a great husband, great neighborhood, amazing church family... wonderful family. But we also have something else in our home. We have autism. It's such an interesting.... diagnosis... situation. What do you call it. Maybe one day I will say that I am so thankful for what autism has taught our family, but I will be honest and say that since our diagnosis in August and our discovery of how autism is affecting our son Noah, I have nothing good to say about autism. The only gift it brings to us, that I can see right now, is that it has ...

a day is gone well, half and i am torn between being me and preserving the chance that i will remain sane for the rest of it. rest. ever get some? or does that lit up beeping thing that slick beauty in your hand keep you everyday alldaynight in demand waiting for whispers some sort of connection i text therefore, i am then there is that blue page the rage we all wait walk across our own stage sometimes 20 times a day or more what might someone say about what i said when i saw what they wrote on their post i digress two nights in a row once i told my thoughts to go thru my head didn't keep them away didn't let them stay just closed my eyes for five and gave light a chance to grace my brain rest. best do it again before i forget how great it is to wait listen to peace let go of control and be.

It disgusts.. saddens… disappoints me, how pumped I felt when the lady at the park recognized me from high school… she had never known me personally, but recognized me.. was I on student council or… no.. in my own little high school I was famous for basketball.   When she recognized my name, my heart was so proud.   I felt so worthwhile, so important. Super pumped about the Heidi Suderman of old. I have gotten rid of all but one pair of university basketball paraphernalia. I have cut jerseys and track pants into pieces, thrown team jackets, pants, etc, away.. all because they mean so much to me. How do people do it? Be humble, I mean. No human was meant to be worshiped. Not that I was, but I was known and praised. It felt so good. As an adult I have had to deal with my great failure of a life because I have not arrived at any internationally known stage to display my greatness. I’m the overweight mom in the checkout line with kids who are super cute, and som...