a tearful and thankful nod to kindergarten

Mrs. Brown and a group hug with her littles - 8 boys, 3 girls - before their end of the year program last week.

I’m an emotional wreck this morning. It’s the second to last day of Kindergarten for our oldest. Tomorrow, what’s become a second family to her will cease to exist. And I am grieving.

I am mourning the safety and kindness and comfort she’s been able to return to day after day for the last year. I’m grieving the innocence and freedom she’s experienced and exhibited. I’m grieving that she will never experience an environment so uninhibited and accepting and playful and authentic ever again.

Kindergarten is a unique grade, because it falls at an incredibly unique developmental stage. Innocence and impulsivity, honesty and heart, purity of personality and perspective, enthusiasm and energy, curiosity and increasing capability … they’re coming into themselves but are yet unfettered by life’s constraints (those imagined, ridiculous, and/or real). 

And, it’s just SO hard to say goodbye to this stage. 

Yes, there is new and beautiful and necessary and boundless to come … but I am so very aware (my education and profession have taught me this) it will NEVER be this way again. 

So, this week I grieve. 

She is mourning, as well. We’ve had lots of conversations about having more than one feeling at the same time and where we’re feeling it in our body and what we can/want to do with it all … 

And I’m holding her tight, marveling at this precious almost six-year-old we get to walk life alongside. She is effervescence and beauty and creativity and LIFE, and I just adore her …

Finally, I am grateful for the place she’s gotten to do school at these last three years. Grateful for the privilege to choose into it and to be present — to drop her off and pick her up and join in at times — throughout it. Grateful for the teachers she’s been taught and influenced and loved by. Grateful for the kids she’s played and fought and learned with — grateful for the families from which they came.

Because this is what’s true: While names and faces may fade from explicit memory over time, their bodies and minds WILL retain and navigate from THIS FOUNDATION of kindness, safety, love, play, and freedom they experienced with THIS kindergarten class. That is SUCH a big deal.

I am just so grateful. And sad. For now …

LOVE.

becoming a tennis player, part 1

It all started when a neighbor relayed that she was signing her son up for tennis lessons with the county at a nearby park. It was four, one-hour Saturdays with a group of kids in his age group for the crazy low price of just $36 american dollars! We were sold — our oldest was signed up by the end of the week and I set out to figure out what kind of racquet and ball to get her.

• NOTE: There are different racquet sizes and ball pressures for different ages! My daughter is 4, so we got her the Head Speed 21” Junior Racquet and the RED Franklin Sports tennis balls.

A couple of weeks into watching the organized chaos of her lessons, I learned there was adult beginner lessons available at the same location — 8 weeks for $72! I was in — signed up online and set out to figure out what kind of racquet I would need.

• NOTE: So far, I’ve learned there are different size heads and grips for adult racquets. I went to the local Play It Again Sports and found a used Babolat Pure Drive with a 4.5” grip (apparently, I have a giant hand for a woman) for about $45.

I had to miss the first week because of parenting duties, but showed up for the second week, wearing my complete lack of experience on my proverbial sleeve. I learned where the baseline and service line are. I learned the very basics of grips — Continental, forehand, and backhand. My second lesson was more of the same, but we added volleys and played a quick game of King of the Court. My third lesson, we did all the aforementioned, but added ball tosses and overhand serving. Holy cow, talk about HARD (and hard on my lack of shoulder muscles)!

I am NOT GOOD at this sport, yet. But, I do kind of love it. It’s so much fun. And, letting myself suck at something and still enjoy the being part of it and learning? It’s a new and, dare I say, enjoyable experience. I am not too old to be a beginner. Neither are YOU.

becoming a gardener, part 1

18 days from seed (pictured left to right: top row — sugar baby watermelon, poinsett 76 cucumber, sugar cherry tomato, bottom row — purple dragon carrot, chantenay red core carrot, carolina wonder bell pepper, eva purple ball tomato. All seeds came from The Urban Harvest.

I’ve wanted to have a vegetable garden for YEARS, but never made it a priority. However, the allure HAS kept me researching and learning along the way. I joined relevant Facebook groups (using key words to my location and desired kind of gardening), enrolled in informative classes (most notably, “Raised Bed Gardening” through Urban Harvest), and scrolled page after page of higher education expertise (including various parts of the UF/IFAS website and its seminole county extension). SO, when I was gifted with a couple of raised garden beds (we are currently renting, so I can’t plant in-ground) — this one from Lowes and this self-watering one from Costco — near the end of planting season, I actually felt pretty prepared to jump in.

I live in a fairly favorable climate for growing things, but planting time for most fruits and veggies wraps at the end of February, so I immediately went searching for seeds. Picking what to plant had everything to do with what was still eligible for planting FROM SEED (I don’t have the patience or time to make seedlings and transplant) and what I might actually want to feed myself and family. One bed was intended to be vegetables and the other herbs. I planted the veggie garden on February 18 and the herb garden on March 4th (soil info below).

Planting from seed: Dill, mint, strawberries, stevia, thyme, chives, basil, and baby mustard greens.

• Soil: 4.5 cubic feed in each bed, a 3:1 mixture of Fox Farm’s Ocean Forest and a Mushroom Compost, mixed and made moist on the day of planting

• Raised beds: Raised Garden Bed Elevated Planter Box 23-in W x 47-in L x 30-in H with Drainage Holes (Lowes) and CedarCraft Self-Watering Elevated Spruce Planter (Costco)

• Seeds: Ordered online from Urban Harvest and grabbed in-person at Lukas Nursery

lyrics and life lessons

I’ve always loved Country music.

I can’t say it’s the only genre I’ve listened to (I did have that unfortunate foray into CCM in the early 2000’s, followed almost immediately by a pendulum swing into emo and classic rock), but it’s been my go-to since the early 90’s and my mom’s cassette tapes.

I like the storytelling. The talent. The little bit of patriotism and faith that peppers it. The fact that lyrics typically favor romance and beer over promiscuity and drugs …

I guess it’s also the subculture (or, at least, musical genre) to which I can best relate. Can’t say I like to/want to hunt animals for sport. And I’m not likely to ever own a tractor or anything bigger than a backyard hobby garden. But I do prefer wide, open spaces and beautiful trees over cement and city any day. I’ll always choose a backyard or boat hang over a bar or indoor amusement park. I’m not parked in front of the TV for college football like it’s religion, but I get it and respect it. ‘Cause here’s the thing - country music normalizes a simpler life. A pushing toward the stuff that really matters - family, friends, love and living life to the full … the lyrics proclaim those values, as well as the things, people, and processes that re-center us there.

That’s why I think I’ve been so welcoming of my oldest’s CONSTANT questions about the songs she hears. She is forever asking me some variation of “What’s [the singer] talking about?” …. and BECAUSE country music has a value system I can (mostly) align with, I’m able to have educational and life-giving conversations with my girl nearly each and every time a song wraps. It’s been the coolest. In developmentally appropriate ways, we’ve talked about working hard and responsibility and being treated like a queen by the kind of guy that would be worth her time and energy. We’ve talked about how God makes beautiful things and how hard stuff happens. We’ve talked about the meaning of perspective and how having a good attitude can change an experience. We’ve talked about alcoholism and cuss words. We’ve talked about what it means to be kind and grateful and generous, beautiful, confident and powerful. And the list goes on …

Curious: What are your kids learning from the music they’re hearing?

never too old to be interested

Back in my twenties, I had this idea for a blog that would have been, essentially, a beginner’s guide to various hobbies. At the time, I was actively engaged in several “new to me” subcultures: long distance running, indoor rock climbing, and road cycling. I was learning (and fascinated by) all the relevant lingo, nuances of equipment, and the validity of relevant resources. There was SO much to learn and explore … and I had the theory that THAT reality might be a barrier to entry for others (as insecurity and fear is often a stumbling block for us humans). So, my idea was to be a wealth of information for beginners - a confidence building inroad into various subcultures for my readers. The idea just never went beyond a shower contemplation.

Now in my forties, I find myself returning to the idea. I’ve found myself returning to horseback riding as my oldest daughter is taking English lessons and I contemplate joining her (I’m only barely versed in Western riding). I start a beginner (group) tennis lesson course in a couple of weeks. And, I’ve been dabbling in painting (both watercolor and abstract acrylics) in recent months. Additionally, I’m fast approaching the start of homeschooling my girls. Maybe these various activities (and the community that surrounds them) could be a writing outlet for me and become valuable input for those interested in similar? Maybe.

So, let’s see …

LOVE.

Currently playing: Lots of RaeLynn

Currently reading: just downloaded “Mother Brain” by Chelsea Conaboy

Updates

I have yet to find the routine that frees me up to write during this stage of life. And, I really want that to change - having a written record of the experiences, emotions and engagements that make up this season would really be beautiful … and helpful, as so much of this season is SURVIVAL and, as a result, the memories so easily lost to high cortisol and adrenaline levels. So, I still hope I’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I’ll pound out some updates for posterity:

We’re moving again. To another rental. The housing market has been in some unprecedented places lately - high demand, low inventory, tiny interest rates, and a work-from-home pandemic ripple effect has made it nearly impossible for the average middle-class family to grab a comfortable home in a good area. So, we continue to rent. The temporary-ness and the constant transition is a headache (and, honestly, a bit of a heartache for me - homes, home decorating, building, renovating … those have been lifelong interests and dreams of mine), but we’re just doing what needs to be done and hoping the market will mellow in the next couple of years. We’ll see.

Until then, we’re gaining some space and staying in a good area - even if also increasing our rent. Eh.

Our oldest will jump into VPK at NCD in August. It may be her last year in formal school. We’ll see. I really do still have a heart to homeschool. I am not holding that desire too tightly (I really want to what’s best for her and for our relationship), but I am researching and preparing for it to be our reality. I supplement school using The Good and the the Beautiful curriculum (we’re toward the end of their Preschool level and will be starting their Kindergarten Prep and Math K levels following) and lots of library books, read alouds, and activities and worksheets here and there from Busy Toddler and Harbor & Sprout. So far, so good. She loves it all - calls it “homework” and ask for it regularly.

Our youngest is such a sweet and wonderful addition to our family - she absolutely adores her sister and clings to her momma. She’s snotty and sick right now (we have been on a roller coaster of colds and infections amongst us all for what seems like MONTHS), but girl loves being outside and playing in the water. It’s so fun to watch …

Work-wise, the Mr. is still working on iOS apps and I’m still navigating how to drum up business while totally consumed with this life with littles. So far, I have not found the key!

Alright, that’s it for now. Until next time,

LOVE.

my, how the tables turn

This past week with the oldest has been ROUGH. Just this morning, she hit me three times. She just up and started pushing boundaries and being super defiant. She is NOT fun to be around in those irrational and intense, big feeling moments. They’ve been starting early and lasting all day. It is beyond frustrating … and such HARD work to navigate how it triggers us and still be loving and a safe place for her to work it all out within.

She’s three, so it’s to be expected, but it came on fast and the Mr. and I are kind of experiencing some whiplash.

So, in a dramatic shift from where we were just a couple weeks back, time with the youngest has been a legit BREAK. As she’s escaped her digestive pains, she’s getting more predictable (eat, sleep, play, etc.) and wonderfully smiley and snuggly.

It’s been so nice to go feed her in her room, rocking in the glider, listening to the sound machines.

I read that line and it’s almost comical - this is my life now - looking forward to moments in a glider burping a baby to escape the demanding chaos that is our preschooler. 🙄🤷🏻‍♀️

Welcome to parenthood, eh?

Love.

On being a parent

Oh, what to write about? 

I think I kind of have to just talk about what’s happening in life to start, because there’s just so much going on … but if I step back and look at it all on paper, it’s practically nothing at all. Yet, it seems like every task, plan or thought carries a weight with it that’s exponentially bigger. So much of life these days requires so much more than you’d expect - not just materially, but emotionally, mentally, etc. I think that’s probably just the reality of parenthood maybe? But here’s a truth: You won’t understand what I mean by that UNLESS you are a parent.

And it’s so funny to hear myself say things like that - especially since I’d toss a mental eye roll your way if you’d said similar to me years back. (The ignorance and arrogance of the inexperienced and young … you’re only ever aware of it once you’ve aged/experienced past it).

But, there IS so much about parenthood I couldn’t have known or understood until I experienced it. Like how consuming the love for your children is. How anxiety-producing. How utterly terrifying. How also life-giving and purpose-making it is. I didn’t anticipate how it’d cause me to deconstruct much of what I knew and believed about my faith, how the world works, and what really matters. 

I couldn’t know that days can simultaneously be monotonous and slow AND precious gifts moving way too fast. I didn’t know I’d look forward to the kids’ bedtimes and miss them the second I closed their doors. I didn’t know I could desperately wish for a long break and know, at the same time, that I wouldn’t want to be away from the kids for any real period of time. I always thought I was a dichotomy, but now I truly live one.

The oldest starts school next week. I’m still homeschool inclined, but I think the 3-day cooperative preschool is the right move for her (and us) right now. Still, I’ve got a lot of feels about it … and I’m anticipating more as we do “meet the teacher” and actually do drop-off and the first week. Fingers crossed and praying hands that she LOVES it and it’s a healthy environment for her!

Beyond that, the youngest is settling into herself now that she’s eating, sleeping and playing with a settled digestive system. I keep calling her “Smiles” because they were so infrequent there for awhile and now pepper our every interaction. She’s beautiful.

Okay, that’s all for now - LOVE.

#31weeks

I am so invested in this little girl’s life experience. Maybe too invested.

And, if I’m honest, It’s terrifying. It’s pressurizing. It’s anxiety-producing.

We spend so much time together, avoiding enmeshment and projection feels dang near impossible. I feel too important. I feel too responsible for who she is and what she wants and how she’s doing. She’s so front and center to my world, she eclipses any other reference point.

And this is not just my experience. I’ve heard similar from others. This is what moms are up against. Namely the stay-at-home moms who have done personal growth work and prioritize positive, gentle, present, conscious parenting. The ones that are hyper aware of how our every interaction and intention has the potential of a lifetime of impact.

It’s exhausting to know so much. To know better requires we do better … and, ya’ll, it’s a heavy, heavy thing to hold the responsibility of changing the [proverbial] family tree. Especially in the age of pandemics and lockdowns and ever-changing individual and systemic standards.

How do we do it? “It” being finding a healthy balance of informed intentionality and differentiation, validating attention and adequate personal space, educated awareness and blissful innocence … conscious discipline and giving ourselves a break … learning our child and caring for ourselves. It’s just hard. Not impossible, but friggin’ hard!

Add pregnancy hormones and medication-induced anxiety … and, welp, that’s where I am. Thankfully, it’s not where I’ll stay.

LOVE.

Currently reading: “The Other Wife” by Claire McGowan
Currently playing: “Something Was Wrong” podcast, Season 1

30 weeks and counting

In case you hadn’t heard, we’re having another baby.

Like, soon.

Wait, what?

“I thought you were only going to have one?” Yea, we were.

“I didn’t even know you were trying!” Well, we weren’t.

But, here we are … and soon SHE will be, too.

It’s been a crazy few months of wrapping our heads AND attempting to wrap our LIVES around the idea of being a family of four. It’s been a lot of adjusting, a short season of grieving, and a little bit of surreal “going through the motions” toward a new reality. With a positive on an OTC pregnancy test, our house got too small, some plans got pushed back a few years, and my career, motherhood and homeschool trajectory got SHOOK.

Unlike my last pregnancy, this one has gone fast (having a toddler to chase makes the time go by faster … or the days blend together, I don’t know). Also, unlike my last pregnancy, this one wreaked havoc on my body from the start. I was tired and dizzy and nauseous the entire first trimester. The second trimester brought heartburn and body discomfort my way early. And this third one? Well, between the heartburn, hormones, shortness of breath, swelling, total fatigue, and anxiety/intrusive thoughts, bleh.

Suffice it to say, I am NOT a fan of pregnancy.

BUT, I am a fan of my daughters. I can’t wait to see Amber as a big sister. I’m so looking forward to seeing how similar and different our youngest will be. I had brothers, so the sister bond is intriguing to me.

She’s got a name. We’ve hired a doula. I’ve scheduled around maternity leave. I’ve stocked up on things. I’ve made the baby registry. So, we’re rolling toward our new reality while she’s kicking me in the ribs.

My hope is to share more here going forward - it’s been a long time coming and as I let go my counseling business (I’ll still be doing life consultation), I anticipate there being more time and energy. So, fingers crossed for here and prayers welcomed for what’s to come!

gettin' down to The Git Up

I don’t know what it is about choreographed dance. Line dance. Group dance. Songs like this. I don’t know what it is, but I come ALIVE with this stuff. I feel actually good. Great. Hopeful. Like life is so, so good.

People enjoying themselves. Laughing at themselves. Enjoying one another. Moving their bodies. Smiling and feeling sure and silly and free …

And I feel almost ridiculous saying all that. But, if I’m being honest, it’s always been a true thing for me. Most of my best memories are on Cowboys’ dance floor. I kid you not. I imagine it must be what it’s like for musicians when they sit down with others for a jam session. It feels like human connection and like something bigger and better than ourselves.. It feels like possibility. Life hums. Vibrates.

For me, it’s something approaching a concept of Heaven I could actually look forward to …

So, I’m gonna grab my baby girl and we’re gonna dance in the living room to this on the daily for a while. We’ve already been at it. She lights up. Which makes my heart leap. Maybe she’s got some of her momma in her. And, if it’s this part, I’m gonna help her enjoy it as much and as long as is possible.

Love.

party pooper

I planned, prepared for, and hosted my first real party yesterday. Yea, my first. At 37. I mean, I planned my wedding, but I paid other people to execute the plan on the day of, so it wasn’t all me. And this time it wasn’t all me either, but it mostly was. And, I guess I’m writing about it because I find myself, a day later, wondering if it was good enough. Was it impressive? Well done? Unique? Valued? Really seen and really noticed. My personal insecurities projected onto the event I put on.  

I’m a little uncomfortable with how uncomfortable I am with not knowing what others thought about the production/product. I don’t like being so insecure so late in life. AND, there’s a part of me that is impressed by myself. I picked out, ordered and arranged flowers for goodness’ sake! And the “brand” consistency throughout was pretty spot on. But, I felt and feel lackluster. It’s a theme in these recent days and months of mine. My daughter outshines me easily (and I want her to - she’s so so precious and worthy). My hair has thinned and fallen out. My face only ages. My body is too soft. I look at my camera roll and there’s no evidence that I exist (except for the occasional selfie with Amber). I feel like I don’t matter. I excel at nothing anyone notices and, well, that’s a first for me. And I don’t know how to shake off that uneasy, hurt feeling.

brain dump

I’m a mess lately. Forgetting things left and right. Tired every morning, despite sleeping all night. Feeling frazzled and failing on the regular. Today, I nearly cried when I watched an Osprey dive for and MISS getting a fish from the pond behind my house.  What is that? I’m not unhappy - I feel really blessed, I really love my daughter and my dogs and my Babe and our space. So, I can’t quite put my finger get on what’s eating at me (beyond my constant, lifelong struggle with foreboding joy).

I’m inclined to think it’s “the work stuff.” The recent realization that I have to change how I do what I do professionally if I’m going to keep wanting to do it (let alone move it forward into success). I think this means moving toward a coaching model of practice, but doing so requires I create a product, of sorts. And that feels really, really intimidating. I feel like I’ve failed before I’ve even started. My perfectionism shows up in all its dysfunctional glory and sabotages me. I get caught in this idea that I have to have it all together to begin or it’s not worth pursuing, because it WILL fail or be found lacking, or worse, I’ll be caught lacking. And, yet, there’s this part of me that is sure I would rock this change, but again, only if I figure it out ahead of time. 

So, it’s the figuring it out that’s throwing me for a loop, because I’m stunted there. Stuck. Overwhelmed by the thought of it. Not sure I have what it takes. And processing it out on my blog. 😁

Love.

I am grateful

I am grateful. For her. And him. And them. The dogs. The parents. The friends. The clients.

I am grateful. For the house. And the cars. And the bank account. The job. The work. The insurance.

I am grateful. For sun. Saturdays. Hot water. Cold lakes. Good wine. Fun music. Soup. Chocolate mousse. Soft sheets and pillows to cover my head. Lululemon leggings and messy buns. Long naptimes and short hugs and face smushes.

I am grateful. For grace. And life. And hope. Moments of peace. The power of prayer. Promise.

Amen and love.

on hormones

So, that night your baby has to do an unplanned 12-hour EEG … and your period decides to return … and your milk dries up? That’s a night you survive. It’s two days later you fall apart.

Eck. Weaning and #momfear and menstruation are a HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD combo.