Childhoodtake2!

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on be.

Go.

To be...me.
To be neurotic.
To be mindful.
To be purposeful.
To be nervous.
To be aware.
To be gritty.
To be hard.
To be soft.
To be...me.

To be a mom.
To be a good mom.
To be a dog mom.
To be protective of childhood.
To be present in the little.
To be mindful and aware of how little time we have.
To be the keeper of all of your memories.
To be the creator of traditions.
To be a mom.

To be a writer of thoughts.
To be careful of my words.
To be careless with how my fingers flow.
To be conscious of the healing power.
To be accepting when the thoughts and words do not come.
To be a writer of thoughts.

To be your bride.
To be a caring and loving bride.
To be in awe and take you in.
To be good to you the way you need and want.
To be supportive.
To be understanding.
To be good at loving you.
To be your bride.

To be a woman that moves...a lot.
To be a runner.
To be a lover of walks.
To be respectful of my body.
To be aware of my limitations and be aware of when I can fight through.
To be able to focus on strength.
To the fight I take on to tackle my insecurities.
To the quieting I have to do with the voice that tells me I look off.
To be a woman that moves...a lot.

To be...me.

Hello again dear old friend, it's been too long.

There is something magical about reconnecting.
If it's on a call, through a video, through an email.
There is magic in people that know your whole story.

When we all lost Nonno, I was quickly reminded of my loving old friends.
Friends that have stayed with me through it all.
Friends that show up, gather, surround, and love on us.
Friends that make us laugh, hard.
Friends that are inappropriate with jokes.
Friends that know your story, your whole story.

From my bestest that got in her car and drove to me the night of.
From my longest that called me the second she read my message.
From my college forevers that spent a holiday weekend loving on me.
From the messages of love I received.
From the flowers that filled our home.
From the ones close by that brought dinner, treats, and cookies.
From the ones that showed up with wine ready to hug me.
From the ones that reached out in any way they could to muster words of support.
From the ones that made me feel like they were right there, no matter how far away they were.

Hello again dear old friend, it's been too long.

As we sit around together, it is as if we have never left.
The stories are a little different.
The subjects of our stories are more consistent now since we have included our loved ones in the mix.
But the laughter is the same.
The sheer joy, that's the same.

We all tell each other we think we look exactly the same.
And then we point out how much we have changed.
We realize that to each other, we do look exactly the same.
As if we never left.
Because it's us, the us that never left.

Hello again dear old friend, it's been too long.
We gather around food and lots to drink, just like we always did.
We talk about our old days.
The drinking games, the boys, the crushes, how important it all was.
We talk about how we lived back then.
We talk about the difficult times we have faced too.
The losses, the stories we only want to share with a small group.
We talk about the hard parts of marriage, parenting, homes, the day in and day out of adulthood.
But for this small precious moment, we just are.
The us that never left.

We head to bed earlier these days.
1am seems like it just can't be.
We are still putting littles to bed.
But, most importantly, we are there.
Taking care of each other.
We are the embodiment of love.

Hello again dear old friend, it's been too long.

Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second-thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on propose.

Go.

It wasn't late yet but I was having a really bad day.
You came home and found me crying on the couch, I had another awful work day.
And I was tired.
I didn't love my career or where I was going.
I didn't love where we were living and it had been close to three years that I'd felt that strongly.
We decided to order out...Chinese...and just stay in.
You told me to stay put, and you would be back.
I went to the bedroom and put on cozy clothes. I just wanted to feel comfortable.

You had another thought.
On your way to grab the food, you stopped by your place and grabbed the ring.
As you tell it, it was burning a hole in your pocket and you just wanted to finally ask.
It had been almost five years.
Five years of actual us.
Happy, simple, years of us.
Nothing was complicated, nothing was heavy. It all felt like home, just like our very first day together, it felt like home.

As you came into the kitchen, ring in the bag of our take-out, you were shaking, crying a little, and had a goofy smile.
I thought you were inappropriately playing a prank...you told me to stop yelling because you were trying to propose.

You brought me into the family room.
Our puppy was by our side.
You told me that you loved me, your head buried in my chest.
You pulled out the ring and asked me, it was perfectly us Coach.

Perfectly imperfect us.

Stop.

Littles, there is a part of mom that she reflects on with so much joy.
Growing up, I was surrounded by what felt like a million family members.
My cousins were my friends, and it was an amazing way to grow up.
Family, loud, laughing, drinking, playing cards family.

When you have 30 cousins, there is always someone around, or we worked hard to keep them around.
Even though I had only one sister, we were surrounded all of the time.
My mom's family, my dad's, siblings, and cousins.

As the grandparents passed away, and we all got older, the family grew and we all somehow got smaller.
We went inward.
We stopped a lot of the gatherings.
We weren't always together like we were.

And that's okay. We all live differently now. Most have multiple kids pulling them in multiple directions. There are in-laws in different places and jobs and careers.
There are college tuitions to worry about and littles getting bigger in front of all of us.

But then it always happens, we always pull through, and manage to come right back together.
And whether it's a graduation, or a gathering, or someone is sick, or someone is passing, we all come together again.
It feels instantly warm, and funny, and we catch up and remember.
We talk about our parents and the heavy hands they had.
We can laugh about it now and how different we all are with parenting.
How we dare our littles to call us strict.

We talk about this memory, this wedding, this one time we did this one dumb thing.
We message each other to check-in.
We hold each other from afar.
And this past year, I felt closer to this part of my than I had in a very long time.

Cousins and uncles and aunts and family coming together from all over the US.
I felt so surrounded even when we were very much alone.
I was in such constant contact and touch and love.
And I didn't even realize how much until I heard dad say things like, oh, we haven't connected with fill in the blank in a while...and I would say, we message almost daily.
After the 3rd of 4th time, I think he finally got it, we show up.

Because family is heavy.
And sometimes the loads we carry, they are too much.
Too much to pick up, move, and carry around.
And it's during that time that no matter how far or close we are, we all pitch in to make it lighter.
We visit, we send messsages of love, we sit bed side.
We eat together, we have coffee, we share a glass of wine.
Sometimes we hug so hard that we cry a little, sometimes we cry really hard.

Because the weight of family lingers.
And love brings you to life.
It also makes you exhausted and can drain you of energy.
It makes you smile and feel happy.
It makes you feel whole, even when you feel yourself coming apart.

I say all of this to say that as we have gotten smaller, as we have all gone inward, don't ever forget who we are at our core.
Don't ever forget about your family and where you came from.
Don't ever forget how we show up for each other and have each other's backs.

This next decade will bring with it more loss, more celebrations, more chaos, more gathers of both joy and sorrow.
Don't ever forget who we are.

"So much we take for granted"...

Like the sound of our puppy's feet.
Or the sound of her sleeping.
Like the smell of the season changing.
Or the smell of our children's hair.
Like how family comes together.
Or like how it is defined and created.

Like a good book.
Or a great TV show.
Like a warm fire.
Or a deep calming bath.
Like candles burning on a gray day.
Or how the sun makes rainbows dance in our house.

So let us sleep outside tonight
Lay down in our mother's arms
For here we can rest safely

Like how deep down the littles really care about each other.
Or how they both love on Pearl.
Like how much I adore you.
Or how much you try to make me happy.

Like how I start every day with a walk and end it that way too.
Or how I made a mental shift with exercise.
Like how my body is changing and how much I am learning.
Or how much I am letting go of.

Like how our house is really a true home.
Or how many memories it holds.
Like a tradition I just created.
Or how I harp on the ones I've already set in place.

One sweet world
Around this star is spinning
One sweet world
And in her breath I'm swimming
And here I will rest in peace

Like how the summer night sky is filled so many stars it takes your breath away.
Or how a winter night walk feels so calming and quiet.
Like how swimming feels so tiring.
Or how the sound of the ocean makes me fall asleep.

Like how a good storm makes me giddy.
Or how a snow storm makes me feel oddly secure.
Like how morning coffee brings me to life.
Or an evening glass of wine makes me melt away.

Like how yoga is so grounding.
Or like how a good run is so good for all of you.
Like how much love there is all around.
Or how there is peace in rest.

One sweet world
And in her breath I'm swimming
And here I will rest in peace