In It

    I think most of us make an effort to live in the present. Cliché's like "the past is gone and the future isn't here" or "the only time is now" or the more recently popular "YOLO" may have us taking moments to pause and appreciate where we're at, or in the very least temporarily ease previous guilt or future anxieties.  We can notice that yes, okay, we're here, and this is now, especially those of us with little ones who are growing up right before our eyes - but one simple moment at the dinner table took my present moment a little deeper. 

    There was no big thing, just my little family of four gathered in our dining area eating a very basic-bitch meal of chicken and rice. We were taking turns sharing our highs and lows of the day, and an overwhelming thought appeared and was so simple yet so heavy that it took the air from my lungs: this is it, I'm in it. I couldn't tell you one single high or low that was shared over dinner that night, but I can tell you what I was feeling: immensely present. I was looking at the little faces of our daughters in awe of how much they've grown, and yet knowing that they will never be this young or in this moment ever again; knowing that they will one day move out on their own and create their own lives, and that this is IT - this short 18 years that I have them here with me, this ability to wake them in the morning and tuck them in at night, this frustrating time of pre-teen hormones and an ever tattling 8 year old - it's it. It's now. 

    And it wasn't just a feeling with my kiddos, it's everything about right now. I looked around that dinner table realizing that we're here; here in North Carolina, here in a loving happy marriage, here with our parents alive and well, here with wonderful friends near and far, extended family who love us, more pets than we need but love, careers we are proud of and enjoy, the health of our family during a pandemic. I could have burst at the seams with how all of this filled me with such an appreciation, because at any moment of any day, any one of those things can change. One phone call can change your entire life, one mistake can ruin your marriage, one illness can scare you to death, one wrong move can ruin your career...anything can happen and we can't predict or control how, when or where. All I could do at that dinner table was genuinely know how much I'm in it. I'm in the best days of my life. The happiest days of my life. The days where my parents' voices are only a phone call away, where my kids still need me, where my husband and I obsess over each other, where everything just seems GOOD. 

    All the struggles we've been through and losses we know we'll suffer ahead have me blissfully stuck in my little bubble of now, and I'm so fortunate to be living this life. So thank you, random Tuesday chicken dinner, because you brought me back to where I'm meant to be: in it. 

Lessons From The Neighborhood

People pleaser.

Anxiety ridden.

Peace keeper.

Naive.

High expectations.

You'd think that moving into such a close knit neighborhood would teach you a lot about others, but most of all, I have learned a lot more about myself in these last seven months. 

Moving here, I had high expectations of what neighborhood life would look like; kids playing in the street, block parties and cookouts, new work out buddies, fire pits, game nights, friends who become like family - all in a brand new home we are proud to open our doors to. Fortunately, we did get a lot of this, but what I didn't expect was how much my people pleasing tendencies would cause me to live in a constant state of anxiety. 

If I'm being totally honest, the neighborhood life can be weird. It's no secret when you have company or when you're not home, making me feel like I'm always under a microscope. Having so many neighbors with so many different personalities has made it difficult to have those big BBQ's or parties I had envisioned, and yet I always live in fear that I will hurt someone's feelings or make someone feel left out. When neighbors are outside, I wonder if they expect me to come say hello or if they want to be left alone. Gossip and drama makes the rounds, fast, as we get to know more people and share our experiences. The house I was so proud to own and show off became less special as we visited those with the same model. When my kids are invited over, I worry about them overstaying their welcome or even being welcomed at all. All the worry and wonder leaves me drained, but is also proving to be a major lesson.

These are no one's problem but my own, and work that I need to do for myself. In fact, most of these "problems" aren't problems at all, but creations in my own head through anxiety. I had to take a step back to learn more about myself and what I can do moving forward, because the reality is that where we live is absolutely amazing - I just need to choose to see it that way.

Here's what I know:

I meet people on full throttle. I give hugs, I offer drinks, I make food, I plan outings, I overshare, I ask too many questions, I laugh too loud and too often...all while wearing rose colored glasses. I can be your instant best friend, which I'm slowly learning can be a downfall for myself. It causes me to be naive, only seeing people for the new friend I'm excited to have rather than the individual they are. I've done this my entire life; during school years, when friends and family started new relationships, with the stranger on the plane; I meet you and I instantly adore you. And, if I don't, I'll be on a mission to get to know you so I can understand why. As I get older and my circle gets smaller but stronger, I want to shed this people-pleasing skin that's been weighing me down all these years. I want to slow down, step back, share slowly, listen intently, raise my standards, lower my expectations. I want to release myself from the burden of others' feelings and retire from my job as the peace keeper. I want our new friendships to have depth, and accept and move on from those that don't.

I need to see our new neighborhood life for what it is rather than what I expected it to be. It can be tricky, but it's also given us everything we wanted for our girls. It's allowed us to meet some amazing people, have nightly after dinner walks, front porch drinks, back yard fires; it's forced us out of our comfort zones and into personal growth we didn't even know we needed. And, for right now, after years of living on a main road and having young children, it's imperfectly perfect for us. 

Who knew? 

Marriage Mistakes

Both my husband and I come from families of divorce. For me, it was not only my parents, but my brother and aunts and uncles as well. I entered my marriage with Eric at the young age of 22 determined to break the pattern, telling myself that love was enough, quoting Drake to say things like "I bet if I give all my love then nothing's gonna tear us apart" - because who can argue with that? I thought things would never become dull or stale, because there would always be the next thing; a vacation to plan, a house to buy, more kids to have, holidays and dinner parties to look forward to. Looking back, I can see why our families and friends had their concerns with our young marriage and our naive outlook. All I could think was I can't wait to prove everyone wrong.

The biggest mistake I ever made in our marriage was putting our children before my husband. I know most will believe that the kids should always come first, and here's where my family's history of divorce got in the way. My mindset would quickly turn to children are forever, marriage is temporary with any argument, disagreement, or conflict. Instead of diving into the issue hand in hand with my husband and battling through as a team, I'd flip a switch that gave all of my time and energy to our daughters. I figured my efforts were most preciously spent with them, because no matter what, I'd always be their mother, I may not always be someone's wife. This turned out to be the beginning of a long downfall for Eric and me.

Our lack of problem solving lead to a marriage that lacked communication. Before I knew it, all of my eggs were in the kid-basket, leaving my husband with time to fill, which he did by working over time and going to the gym. We were barely seeing each other, leaving me feeling alone in the parenting world and him alone in our marriage. Any attempts at communicating would lead to explosive arguments filled with months (even years) of pent up grudges. Attempt after attempt of sharing our needs, reworking our schedules, and C O M M U N I C A T I N G were never long lasting because we were both so stubborn, so defensive, and only able to see our own side/needs/wants. This is where I really thought we were heading for divorce, which made it easy to think that the grass was greener on the other side...

This really threw us into fight or flight mode when it came to our marriage. Were the things we needed from each other attainable, or were we asking too much of one another? Could we tweak this and work out that and still be true to ourselves, or would it change us? We had a lot of soul searching to do to figure it all out, but it the end it came down to one big change from me: I had to put him first.

The moment I focused on our marriage over our kids, everything improved. Eric was getting the attention he needed (and deserved), and therefore was a more patient father and loving husband. Our kids were happier with happier parents; even happier then when I was giving them my full, undivided attention. Slowly but surely, the efforts were restored, and, through the help of our amazing therapist, our communication improved, guards came down, defenses were shut off, and for the first time we were really able to just hear each other. To quote another song, "the house don't fall when the bones are good", and now we have a foundation that I'm proud to have as an example for our girls. Having them grow up to witness a strong marriage that, yes, takes effort every single day, but that is so filled with love, touch, emotion, and thoughtfulness fills me with hope that we will continue to break the divorce cycle in our family and that they just may too.

Marriage Moment

My husband and I are not sexy. With someone always tripping or spilling or pointing out a zit, romance has never been our forte. We've always been much better at stealing each other's yawns, racing to the top of the stairs, or spontaneously dancing together while brushing our teeth.

So the other night after whatever shenanigan was going down between us in our bathroom and our bursts of laughter had simmered down, I was taken by surprise when Eric turned to me and said "I like you".  Together for nearly 10 years and married for nearly 9, this statement should not have come as a shock, and yet there I was feeling like it was new all over again. So naturally with all this time on my hands (thanks Corona) I've thought about why those 3 little words meant so much to me. Here's what I've got:

Love is not always a choice. You love your family no matter what. Saying "I love you" can become more of a routine than a meaning-filled choice of words; it's said when someone leaves for school or work, after goodnight kisses are shared, and at the end of phone calls, emails or texts. But like? Like is a choice. You get to choose who you like and dislike, and as deep as love can be, in that moment in the bathroom with my husband, like held more meaning- especially after a decade together. Those 3 little words made me appreciate my marriage so much in that moment, knowing that after all this time we still choose each other, have fun with each other, love each other, but most of all, genuinely LIKE each other.

So share the love in this time of chaos and uncertainty, but don't forget about those non-routine "likes", too.

Diggin' It

No one wants this virus to be happening. No one wants to be stuck at home, out of work, or feeling scared like so many of us are forced to be right now. With all the loss of control in the world and our daily lives, our only option is to find the good, that silver lining in this uneasy time. It can be hard to look past the Groundhog Day boredom, the countless sibling battles, the suffocating feeling of not being able to go anywhere, but doing so can help us from spiraling and help us actually enjoy this time for what it is.

Okay, so there have been some low days. I'm talking days where I get a little excited to find dog poop on the floor just because it gives me something to do (A-ha! A task!). But, as repetitive and as boring as it can be to wake up and have nothing to do day after day, there's also an element of excitement, of ease to it all as well. I think I love having nothing to do with the option to do things with no time restraint. Exercise, cooking, reading, TV shows, sun bathing, card games, crafts...all things that would be crammed in in the allotted window; before work, after dinner, before the kids wake, after bedtime, before a class, after homework...there was a time and a place for it all, and now it's all up in the air; as we please, at leisure, relaxed.

I think what I'm loving the most is how we are all connecting more, both within my immediate family at home and with friends and family from a distance. I tell ya, I'v never appreciated FaceTime and Zoom so much. I love my happy hour with friends, as we sip drinks and catch up "face to face", I love the coffee date I had with my sister as we caffeinated and caught up, I love the more frequent phone calls and check-in texts that build stronger bonds. Even having moved far away, I feel closer to people more than ever. At home, with less distraction, I feel more detailed conversations unfold between my husband and me; instead of simply asking how my run went, he goes on to ask how many miles, how I felt, where I ran, which leads to talk of previous races and the encouragement of any upcoming. With our gyms being closed, we've been able to connect more in our home-gym, whether it's sharing work outs or simply keeping each other company. I've been more compliant to him training me, and he's been more open to try things I suggest.

With my kiddos, I no longer have to put pressure on myself to evenly distribute my time between them, because all we have is time. We can flow through the day picking up a deck of cards here or putting a show on there. I have the time to do the time consuming things they enjoy, like giving Hannah a make-over or listening to Lyla's playlist alongside her. I've also been able to teach them things from my childhood, like card tricks and hand claps. They've learned some new chores and how to cook some new things, but have also had more screen time than I usually allow which has been a treat for them and a lesson in letting go for me.

Oh and this weather! How thankful I am to be quarantined in Wilmington, where we have the ability to spend most of our days outdoors. Bike rides, basketball games, and jump rope challenges have not been cancelled. The ability to go lay out in the sun (and not feel guilty because, time!) has not been cancelled. Front porch white wine before dinner has not been cancelled. As shitty and as scary as this can all be, there is so much good right now. My kids are happy because they are relaxed, and can have alone time or mommy-time as they see fit. My husband can relax after work knowing that if he wants to kick his feet up or throw a show on, I am more than happy to take a book outside while the kids play. I am happy because of where we are, the connections we're making, the tan lines I'm getting, and the time; I am most thankful for the time. Time to get in the best shape of my life, time to clean my house without guilt, time to read or rest, to spend with family or on the phone with loved ones, time to have extra drinks and Trader Joe's treats, time for it all. 

Quarantine, I didn't choose ya, but I have learned that I sorta dig ya.

Ego Awareness & News

I have this joke with my Mother, where I point out the fact that she wears her resume on her sleeve. Shortly after introducing herself to someone new, they are made aware of her high level of education, the fact that she's completed (and won some) 30 marathons, ran her own successful therapy practice, and nationally presented for years. This drove me nuts, because always I viewed it as being "showy" and high-up-on-the-ol'-horse. It wasn't until recently when I took a chance of doing something new - working in the bakery of a health food store - that I started to understand the ego's need to let your worth be known. And, how much of this need is rooted in both insecurities and the opinion of others.

So here I am, 30 years old, ugly-ass hat on, apron tied up, making 10 freaking dollars an hour, being told what to do by someone nearly a decade younger than me, and BOOM...I turn into my Mother. My ego felt it totally necessary to mention (on more than one occasion) how I used to make seventy-five dollars an hour working as a Massage Therapist in Massachusetts, as if this made my ten dollars an hour more credible. Talk of my current marathon training comes up often, both because it makes me feel like I'm accomplishing something, and because these co-workers in their young twenties have zero idea of what else to talk about with a married mother of two in her 30's. 

My manager loves me, and often tells me what a good job I'm doing, but I can't help nearly bursting out in laughter. I'm good at bagging bread? Boxing baked goods? Printing labels? Why don't I just walk into a kindergarten classroom, recite my ABC's, and claim to be the best.student.ever.? It's entirely ego based. If I'm being honest, I don't mind the job; it's mindless work that is easy on my body, the hours fly by, and day-old baked goods are my jam. But, my buddy Ego creeps in often to remind me of things like that time my co-worker asked me what month comes after February (actually happened) - and I start to climb my own high-horse and think I'm too good for the world of packaging and label printing. 

Good thing we only grow from being uncomfortable. I've spent the last several weeks sugar coating this job by calling it "fluffy" or "fun" or "for now", and all of that was because I was embarrassed. But why? If I was getting paid more, would I care as much? If my co-workers were of higher education, would I care as much? If I didn't have to play along pretending that someone leaving whipped cream in the cold case (gasp) was the worst thing ever, would I care as much? All I know is that the whole thing - both how I felt about the job and how I viewed other people's opinions of it - made me uncomfortable. I had no choice but to sit with it, learn from it, quiet the ego, and try to find some confidence in my choice to try something new. 

That was my plan, anyway, but all that really did was drive me to complete the licensing process for massage in North Carolina. This, by the way, was the most ridiculous process I've ever gone through, fully equipped with high school transcripts and fingerprints at the sheriff's office. 

One afternoon having my lonely-loser lunch alone in my car on my break, I forgot my book to read. In order to keep myself occupied for all 32 minutes of my allotted lunch, I decided to clean out my email inbox. Way down at the bottom, I found an email from back in April, where I had reached out to a chiropractor about a massage opportunity. Their reply had said that they did not currently have an opening, but to check back in the summertime when their office was expected to expand. Well, as our moving plans had it, we didn't make it down by summer, and other emails flooded my inbox moving this opportunity to the bottom and out of site. But here I am in my car, wearing my super cool (not) hat, dying a little inside about my bakery job, and I stumble back upon this email. I thought, hey, they probably filled the position, but what can it hurt to reach back out with an updated resume? 

I did.

They happened to be hiring as of THE DAY BEFORE.

I interviewed.

I gave a sample treatment.

I got the job. (!!!!)

And what a dream job is it. No rent, no laundry, no scheduling. Great hourly pay, working alongside two well established doctors, in a part of Wilmington close to the beach. Let's just say, my ego is just a little excited. 

So, maybe the ego isn't all bad. Maybe it was constantly reminding me of my worth, and drove me to find the perfect opportunity. Did I need to share previous pay or skill level or ability to run long distance to feel better at the bakery? No. I could have just taken the job for what it was: something new, something easy, something different. But, with that being said, I am looking forward to making a difference in people's lives other than properly packaged pound cakes. 

Ego, I see you. 

Wilmington

I've been stalling to write since our move.

I think I was waiting for the flood of sadness, worry, regret, fear - anything negative - so that I could work through it with words. Each day I wasn't sad or missing much from Mass., I would tell myself it was because I was too distracted with the newness, with house projects, with job hunting, with figuring out how the hell to get places. I thought for sure the holidays would do it for me; that I would miss family and friends and all that comes with tradition, and yet the tears never came. Then, I stalled to write even more at the fear that I would hurt those we left behind by loving our new life and lacking meltdowns.

But I'm showing up to say we fucking love it here.

There's been this sense of peace; an ease I can't explain. I no longer hound my husband about when he'll be home from work, because we're simply outdoors doing our own thing while we wait. I no longer feel pressured to walk the dogs, I want to, because it's so freaking nice out. Exercise is a no brainer. Family time is in abundance with street basketball games, neighborhood walks, and, well, a lack of babysitters. Even the layout of our house makes things easier; washing the dishes in a sink in the kitchen island, so I'm not removed from conversations, or having the laundry on the same floor as the bedrooms, saving trips to a basement. And, we scored big time having neighbors our age with similar aged kiddos.

Sometimes I still can't believe it all happened. It hasn't even been a full year since our vacation to Florida which sparked our first realistic desire to move south, and here we are. In the beginning, it felt like an extended vacation; a temporary move for some job or something. The thought of having to go back was a bummer, and then I'd remember we didn't have to and it seemed like a dream.

The ability to drive to vacation-like beaches anytime, watching the girls embrace neighborhood life with bike rides and friends, working out in a tank top in January...these factors have been a huge reassurance to us that we are where we are meant to be.

I still feel brave. I still have these "holy shit, we really did that!" moments. I feel proud of my husband for taking a risk, and even more-so that he is loving his new job. I feel fortunate to have the ability to take a break from massaging and work in a health food store for fun. My typical asshole-about-screen-time parenting has simmered down, because how can you say no after they were just outside running around for hours? I've loosened my grip on my overly-strict healthy eating because having pizza with your new neighbors or a few beers with new friends matters more. Things are just so much easier, more pleasant, laid back, and FUN.

Who knows what emotions the next few months or years will bring as we settle into new jobs, routines, people and places. Time with friends and family from back home will grow further and further apart. The shiny newness of our home, town, and activities will dull. Maybe that meltdown is still out there waiting for me, but all I can do is be in this moment where we are loving our life, and knowing it took some real guts to make that happen.