tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37728445667936915262026-07-07T16:44:31.429-04:00A mother striving to live authentically in a world where so much is cheap and plastic.Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.comBlogger184125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-74333008843926696012014-12-31T09:41:00.002-05:002014-12-31T09:41:55.622-05:00

Dear 2014, You won't be missed by me. If you were a person I would choke you to death with my bare hands. You have taken so much from me. You have taken one of my best friends and role models. You have taken my father. You have taken my only sibling. You have taken my sense of safety in my home. You have taken my innocence. You have killed whoever I was before you showed up. Thank you, you

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-12368729325218789282014-08-06T11:08:00.000-04:002014-08-06T11:51:07.196-04:00

Eight years ago I met the boy who would change my life in ways I never imagined. Eight years ago I gave birth to my sweet O. With the haze of 8 years and myriad heartbreaks and joys, I can still see his little wrinkled red face crying, as his father stood awestruck and silent. I was still not sure if he was a boy or a girl, but I knew I loved this baby more than anyone or anything. Within 20

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-65717315100432128282014-07-14T15:18:00.000-04:002014-07-14T15:18:00.021-04:00

In case you didn't know, life really sucks sometimes. Be nice to people who are going through whatever totally horrible sad and stressful thing. They need your love and kindness more than your advice. If they ask for your advice or opinion, then they want it. Otherwise, please keep your opinions and advice to yourself. You will be saving your friend from having a moment (or more) of hating you

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-59747749834150998202014-07-11T15:26:00.000-04:002014-07-14T23:36:06.767-04:00

This post has been sitting around for months. So I decided to just let it go. So here it is. There's no right way to live, but there are lots of wrong ways. Wrong way #1: Living someone else's dream You know this old nugget: follow your bliss. For real, do it. Other people don't get to tell you how to live. Not your kids. Not your parents. Not your spouse. Not your boss. Not me. Wrong

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-36061445614495910272014-07-11T15:09:00.000-04:002014-07-11T15:09:02.382-04:00

Sometimes life kicks you in the pants. Other times it kicks you in the ass. Life has kicked me in the teeth. And then stabbed me in the back for good measure. In the last six months one of my best friends and role models died from cancer, my big (only) brother died suddenly, my house was burglarized and my family heirlooms stolen, and my Dad had a heart attack and died. Many of my friends

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-41131129971593752462013-12-31T11:34:00.000-05:002013-12-31T11:34:17.011-05:00

One major piece of wisdom I am taking from 2013 is about love. This is probably the most important lesson of (my) life, really. I'm not being hyperbolic. There is only one type of love. We label love as platonic, romantic, familiar, parental, etc. but it's all just love. Love isn't any different if it is between a mother and son or lifelong friends. It's no different between brothers as it is

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-884847008397729062013-12-05T09:38:00.001-05:002014-07-14T13:07:43.561-04:00

In the last couple of weeks I have learned (re-learned) valuable lessons. I'm not sharing them here because I think I am the first human to come to these realizations (haha!), but because you may need the reminder or to hear the message for the first time. It may light something within you that has dimmed. It just might. If you let it. Live openly. Speak your truth. Open your heart. Listen,

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-51070648839254981292013-10-29T23:17:00.001-04:002013-10-30T15:08:42.825-04:00

Vulnerability is everywhere in my little world. Everybody is talking about it. Brene Brown is all over the place in my facebook feed. So, hey Universe! I get it! I'm paying attention. Vulnerability is terrifying. It's uncomfortable. It makes me want to hide. And yet, I crave it, dare myself to bare myself. Just look at things I write about here. Some of these posts took all the courage I have

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-12650736728170753312013-10-17T20:44:00.002-04:002013-11-26T16:00:13.122-05:00

I had this post in draft for a few weeks before deciding to clean it up a bit and publish it. I realized that I didn't need to write everything I ever wanted to say about motherhood and feminism, the exclusion of many women from our motherhood and feminism discussions/causes, and all the other related issues. I could just start the conversation. And then when I went to look at #

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-79315546305893179772013-09-11T22:42:00.000-04:002013-09-11T22:42:35.777-04:00

I'm spending the week in the Outer Banks with my kids, parents, and brother in the same beach house we have rented two previous times. I suppose it is our tradition now. Like most traditions, it has just happened a couple times and now we just go with it. Every other year we spend a week in this house: the Lord of the Sea. But here's something you parents all probably know and the

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-74235031882110309582013-09-03T14:00:00.000-04:002013-09-03T15:09:59.851-04:00

Earlier this year my partner and I decided to separate and continue to co-parent our boys, 50/50. That's right- equal parenting in separate houses. The kids spend half the time with me in the "old house" and the other half of the time with their dad in the "new house".  The past few months have been challenging, to speak euphemistically. Just the logistical changes have been exhausting

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-28293190486361346242013-08-28T09:00:00.000-04:002013-08-28T09:00:07.405-04:00

This post was hard to write, might be hard to read. But I feel like its time to get out into the world my truth about my miscarriage. I actually wrote this post almost a year ago. It's been sitting as a draft for months. I don't know why I wasn't ready to release it to the world, but I wasn't.  Like many women I have a love-hate relationship with my own body. I range from absolute

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-33033564719094584202013-07-29T21:24:00.001-04:002013-07-29T21:24:44.594-04:00

I am awful at being present with my kids. I admit it. It's the one thing I carry Mommy Guilt about. There's always something else to do, think about, listen to, clean. And then sometimes I just don't want to talk about Hello Kitty or how fast that Matchbox car just went. Bad Mommy. So in an effort to improve myself, I have as a part of my Nerd Fitness 6 Week Challenge Missions - Be Present with

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-87553128283691684502013-02-21T12:44:00.001-05:002013-02-21T12:44:55.300-05:00

In defense of my girls, Lena and Beyoncé. I understand that I am weeks behind the zeitgeist on this, but I have been stewing and finally have to spew my words. Leave my girls alone.  They can wear whatever they want, even nothing. They can be proud, oblivious, fierce, self-conscious, sexy, fat, humorous, whatever they fucking want. It doesn't matter if you don't like it.&

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-84640387997417492752013-02-12T14:02:00.000-05:002013-02-12T14:02:48.145-05:00

I am so very excited and honored to be included with the fierce and radical ladies over at Radical Hateloss. Stephanie Vincent, the mind and spirit behind Radical Hateloss, invited me to share an insight or experience about my relationship with my body. The result is: From Thick Thighs to Thick Thighs. I plan on writing much more about my journey as a woman and a mother in the

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-16014296743004409522012-11-16T21:03:00.000-05:002013-08-28T15:49:25.449-04:00

My mom likes to listen to gospel music. Well, she likes to listen to Elvis singing gospel songs to be exact. Her favorite song on that cd is "Only Believe". Ok, so maybe it isn't her favorite, but it is definitely mine. The title is basically my life's motto. Now Elvis is singing about God and Jesus and faith in the divine. I don't mean that kind of belief.. I mean faith in

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-72628609200990862922012-11-02T21:57:00.001-04:002012-11-02T21:57:28.582-04:00

So last year I had a dream and it came true. We collected 32 backpacks full of toiletries and necessities and donated them to the 32 men at one of the shelters of the Student Run Emergency Housing Unit of Philadelphia. It was one of the most important things I have ever done. Important to me and my sense of my place in the world. Important because I think I showed a lot of people (me!) that

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-72760283094041015512012-08-28T15:11:00.000-04:002013-10-18T16:06:32.629-04:00

Sometimes the biggest lessons are taught in the smallest ways. My six year old rode his bike (still with training wheels) to the library and back on Saturday, for a total of about 2.5 miles. He was so proud and excited to ride in the street like a big kid. He did great until we met the first real hill on the return trip. He immediately asked for help and wanted me to push him up the hill. I

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-54329342281202103582012-05-12T21:26:00.001-04:002013-10-18T16:07:46.829-04:00

I like to say that I don't judge other mothers, but I do all the time. I judge mothers for what they wear, what they feed their kids, what time their kids go to bed, where their kids go to school, how often they swear, if they give their kids soda....the list would take all of Mothers Day to type. I say this not as purely confessional 'I'm such a bad lady - look how cool I am, how edgy' (

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-42853002290759920362012-04-17T08:45:00.001-04:002012-04-17T08:45:33.914-04:00

This morning I was listening to the Slate Political Gabfest podcast and they were talking about Ann Romney and Hilary Rosen and the whole "she never worked a day in her life' hubbub. And I was struck by how the journalists were talking about 'working moms' and 'stay at home moms'. Over and over in the media and online I read that stay at home moms' jobs are raising their children. True. 

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-35159051663108896922012-01-25T09:50:00.000-05:002012-01-25T09:50:10.682-05:00

On a whim a few months ago I bought two I Like Books, because they were 50% off and cute. I can't pass up a bargain or the chance to feel like a good mom. The I Like Books are for parents to document a daily "like" about their kid. I like your big smile. I like that you are a good friend to your brother. I like that you only were in time out once today. Whatever it is. There are two spaces for

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-86050814751824828392011-12-19T12:26:00.000-05:002011-12-19T12:27:39.920-05:00

Three weeks ago I had an idea that was prompted by our family's experience cooking dinner for the men at a local shelter: I was going to collect backpacks, toiletries, clothing, blankets, gloves and hats; and whatever else I could get my hands on to make some care packages for the 30 men. When I decided this I had no idea if it was going to be possible. I had no idea what would become of this

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-3665253133968743052011-11-28T15:20:00.001-05:002011-11-28T15:54:11.366-05:00

Last night my family cooked dinner at  the Student-Run Emergency Housing Unit of Philadelphia.  The shelter is staffed by local college students who volunteer their time.  There are 36 guests at the shelter from November to April. A friend of ours is the faculty adviser for the project and she had put the call out for volunteers. So I had signed up for dinner last night and

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-91249284069684834522011-11-09T21:21:00.000-05:002014-07-14T13:10:53.223-04:00

I first want to apologize for the rambling nature of this post.  This is more therapy than a well-crafted piece of nonfiction.  Shit, I have no idea what I want to say.  I just know I need to get out what's inside and I'm home alone with no grown ups to talk to and sometimes the internets full of strangers is a better audience than your best friend.  If you have no idea what

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3772844566793691526.post-81857427805864090162011-09-29T21:44:00.001-04:002011-11-28T15:53:45.288-05:00

I have been thinking about the 'Fertility Class Divide' for a long time now and I can't shake a few troubling thoughts about what it means that women in high socio-economic class are not having children or having much fewer children than women in lower socioeconomic classes.  But most importantly, more of those children born to lower income women are unintended. So here are my take aways:

Nicole D. Johnshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12353741282346784591noreply@blogger.com0