Why else are we here?

"If not to invest in people?"

Sometimes, when you connect with an old friend and get over all of the major details, you really get into the grime of life. You finally get to the ins and outs, the ups and downs, and you really get to the grit of how you are doing, what has actually been happening, and how you really are dealing with it.

You talk about the moments that took your breath away.
You talk about the moments that crushed your soul.
You make jokes that make you laugh.
You remember who you were, who they are.
You remember why you fell in love in the first place.

It's no secret that we have been months of deep loss.
And again, for the woman that feels too deeply for her own good, it hits differently.
I feel their losses too.
I feel lost.

And how I am feeling seems irrational most of the time.
The bursts of tears and fits.
The moments of anger and deep deep sadness.
The times of thinking back, the memories that flood.

"So what's wrong with that? Why wouldn't you want to feel that way?
Why else are we here if not to invest in people?"

It was beautiful. The words I didn't even realize I was waiting to hear. Once again I needed a reminder that it is okay to be me. That the best and worst parts of me make me fully me.
That the best thing about me and my biggest flaw is that I am someone who is all in when it comes to love.
And so, I do not let go easily.
I replay all of our memories over and over.
I hold on.

And even if it is time to let go, time to move on. Even if I cannot do anything about the losses we are all facing, why wouldn't I want to feel them? Love has a big impact and you should feel it. If not, it never mattered but love does matter.

"Why else are we here if not to invest in people?"

I am deeply attracted to and am in need of being around my balance. Someone that does it all very differently.
However, talking to someone that feels as much as I do, is exactly what I needed. Someone that understands how painful loss is. How you need to pine over your loss. How you need to revisit every memory and see if there could have been a different ending. And throughout the conversation, I got to hear words that mattered...

...no matter the outcome and the healing, he didn't do right by you.
...none of the differences matter as long as you were loving to each other.
...none of that matters either as long as it wasn't threatening and it sounds like it was.
...I wish he knew how lucky he was to have you all and I hope he realizes it soon.
...of course this is going to be hard, you were invested and you should have been because you were in love.

As I tried to rush through my stories to get to the important questions I had to ask an old friend, he instead, brought me back to parts of the beginning and hit on important points. Instead, he wanted to hear the full story and even then, I didn't want to bore him I tried to wrap it all up quickly.
But he wasn't bored. He wanted to know because real friends want the full story. The ones that know your core, know what you are made of, aren't afraid to point out mistakes but also aren't ever going to turn their back.

As I faced a month of being blue, not myself, feeling heavy and hard to find joy...sweet dear friend, thank you for reminding me of what matters most in this world.

"Why else are we here if not to invest in people?"


Mothering 2022

Dear Coach...
Dear Bella...
Dear Monkey...
Dear Pearl Girl...
Thank you.

Thank you for realizing I did want to mother.
Thank you for realizing I needed to mother you.
Thank you for talking me into this.
Thank you for my gentle start to mothering.

Thank you for being such great eaters.
Thank you for being such great sleepers.
Thank you for being the best kids I know.
Thank you for loving our puppies.
Thank you for understanding the family dynamics and how complicated they can get.

Thank you for filling in the quiet.
Thank you for filling in the missing pieces.
Thank you for being the perfect little puppy who fixed our broken.
Thank you for how excited you are to see us, each and every time, like it's the first time.

Thank you for your smiles.
Thank you for your warm hugs.
Thank you for late-night snuggles.
Thank you for feeling so hard.
Thank you for loving with all you have.

Thank you all for being lovers of love.
Thank you all for loving me.
Thank you for my second chance at childhood.

Thank you for still believing in good.
Thank you for still believing in little.
Thank you for still believing in love and our little family.

Thank you for this amazing front-row seat at your life.
Thank you for allowing me to mother.

With all I have and all I am, thank you for this life.

Love, your mom


Heavy days

It's been a tough few weeks in our home.
Lots of emotions arising, lots of tantrums...in all directions.
Lots of me wanting to climb into bed and sleep it all away.
Lots of yelling and short tempers.
Lots of taking things too seriously.
Lots of everyone not understanding dynamics and lots of not feeling the energy in the room and acting appropriately.
Lots of us just taking things too personally.
Lots of breakdowns.
Lots of examples of being unkind.

It's our crazy season.
You guys are all over.
Dad is in full swing of coaching.
I have a lot on my plate, and my nerves are very thin.
And, as much as there is to do, I'm just so damn tired all of the time.

Of course, it will all be okay.
Of course, we will all be okay.
Because somehow, through even all of this, we try and find moments of being okay.
And we try to laugh through some of the pain.
And we try to find moments of being us.

Because when heavy weeks set in, it is most important to turn to your go-tos.
Dinner out.
Runs alone.
Warm coffee.
Puppy snuggles.
A little sunshine.

And then there are other joys.
Like when Cole smiles.
Or when Anna laughs a real belly laugh.
Or when Pearl gets zoomies and runs around all crazy and sneezing.
Or when dad is little boy excited at winning his first varsity game.
Or when mom remembers life isn't that serious, and things are never ever that bad, and she too remembers to hug and smile.

This year is going to have some pretty serious and heavy parts to it.
This year is going to have some amazing adventures too.
It's going to be filled with what life is always filled with...moments of warmth, moments of fear, moments of heartache, moments of love.

We're going to celebrate a wedding this year. We're going to watch two wonderful people become family in the most amazing way.
We're going to see our framily at the Cape and hug and squeeze them because it has been too long.
We're going to make time for each other outside...play ball, sit by the fire, read more.
We're also going to go through some tough times, because life brings with it tough, heavy times.

I'm going to make it as comforting as I can and then, I'm going to go and find my comfort and joy.


Lucky #13

"The number is thought to bring prosperity and life".

How lucky I am to have you as my first.
How lucky I am that you were so gentle as a baby and how calmly you welcomed me into motherhood.
How lucky I am that I get to raise you, I get to know you, I get to know the real you.
How lucky I am that I get this front seat row to the beginning of your life.

How lucky you are to be raised in love.
How lucky you are to be raised with hope.
How lucky you are to be raised with grace and trust.

How lucky we are to have found each other in this world.
How lucky we are that you are willing to learn from mistakes.
How lucky we are that you are willing to keep talking and hearing.
How lucky we are that you have an edge and a "don't mess with me" side.

How lucky the world is to know you.
How lucky your friends are to have you.
How lucky your family is to watch you grow.
How lucky your grandparents are to have their only girl.

How lucky we all are to have memories of you.
How lucky you are that we share those memories with you.
How lucky that you were born so healthy.
How lucky that the mother who was terrified to mother and petrified to mother a girl, got you.
How lucky that the father that always wanted to father and didn't know much about little girls, got you too.

How lucky that you are a combination of those two people.
How lucky that my fear did not overcome.
How lucky that his desire did not disappoint.
How lucky.

Sweet Anna James...
Keep working and trying.
Keep believing in happily ever after.
Keep creating happily ever after for yourself.
Keep holding on to love and grace.
Remember you are a combination of your past, who you are today, and who you will someday be.
Remember that each part is a part of your story, a chapter you write each year.
How lucky we are to have you.


It's so quiet

Have you ever stepped into a moment that is so quiet, so wonderfully quiet, it is precious?

March threw us one last storm, a pretty big one.
My girls and I decided to take a walk right in the middle of it.
No cars, no plow trucks yet, no people, just our feet again the crunching of the snow.
Just a puppy trying to stay warm and dry.
And out of nowhere, my biggest little said, it's so quiet mom.
I know sweetie, and it's wonderful. I'm so happy you're here with me.

Last week, later at night, I took the puppy out by myself.
The wind that had been rushing through the air had died down, the rain stopped, and it was pleasant.
I had intended to just to a loop in the neighborhood but I just couldn't stop moving my feet, it was so quiet.
Just me and her.
No lights, no neighbors, no other dogs to get her to pull in one direction or another.
Just us and the quiet night.

After all the questions were asked, after the results were in, after the doctor left, it was just us.
And my tears, in the quiet.
Just a quiet moment between two people that have never shared a quiet moment.
Just a quiet moment between two of the most unlikely pair.
A moment so beautiful it was almost poetic and you don't do poetry.
It was in the quiet that I found love.

In the morning, rushing them out the door, getting in all we have to do before busses come, it's a bit loud.
And then, once our final smooches are smooched, and everything is ready, I close all the doors and take one moment of quiet.
I start a yoga class.
And take a shower.
I light a candle, I sit in my clean kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee and I get to work, in the absolute quiet that I have the privilege to appreciate.

Lying down next to you at night, you start with all the questions and all the talking and all the things to keep the night going.
Eventually, you settle into the quiet. You snuggle in and rub your eyes a little. You move around and find the right spot and then the quiet of the night settles in and your breathing gets a little heavier, a little deeper.
We continue to whisper I love you here and there, but the quiet has finally won and you are ready for sleep.

Have you ever stepped into a moment that is so quiet, so wonderfully quiet, it is precious?
Like listening and watching the rain.
Like sitting outside during a snowstorm.
Like taking a warm bath and just sinking in.
Like sitting in a dark room to write to your babies.
Like reading a book.
Like snuggling with a puppy.
Like a run with no music, no talking, just the sound of your feet on the pavement.
Like late-night walks.
Like a cup of coffee with yourself.
This introverted mother works hard for her quiet. Sometimes she has to work to find it.
Sometimes it just creeps up on her and she allows it to wash right over her body.


Mothers and daughters

March is about women. Strong women, the ones you can count on.
I know it's hard, this mother-daughter thing, but you can count on me.
I've got you.
I've got your back, I stand with you.

Lately, we've been watching a lot of TV together.
It started with shows I wanted to introduce you to.
Some of my favorite comedies. And now, it's become another one of our things.
One of those things you look forward to, another mother-daughter thing we have.

Like our walks, like reading dates, like our obsession with Pearl.

Mother-daughter things like our ups and downs.
Our connection but also how we can rip each other open.
Our love, our bond.

Mothers and daughters talk.
And I know I am not your first go-to. It takes you longer, but we get there.
We talk through the days, the good parts, the busy, the parts that weren't so good.
When we both lost something important, we talked and talked and talked.

Mothers and daughters hug.
Sometimes I hold on to you as if I can't let go, because letting go has a greater meaning than just letting the hug go.
Sometimes you hold on to me too.
At 12 about to be 13, you ask me for hugs.
A morning hug, a good-bye nose kiss, a good-night hug.
You and I hold on to each other hard.

Mothers and daughters hold hands.
And cry.
And laugh.
And tell jokes.
And share stories.
And share.

Mothers and daughters bump heads.
And say things they don't mean.
And stomp around each other.
And try and make up.

Mothers and daughters are a tough combo.
I show up for you.
I'm learning to let go a little more each day.
Because I trust you, I believe in you.
I'm learning.
I'm trying.

Mothers and daughters who are the same, share so much.
Like a stubborn personality.
And a sense of humor.
And fear, we share fear.
This world scares us a bit.
What I wish for you is that you will learn to push through that fear.
Because you have me in there and you will realize you will get to the other side.

Baby girl, I'm so happy you found me, came to me, made me a mamma, your mama.
I always and forever knew that if I were to mother, a girl would find her way to me, and you did.
Baby girl, I know you're not a baby anymore.
I know.
But I also know that this feeling of mothering you will never go away.

So when we talk about your future and talk about things like...
Where you'll end up.
What state your college will be in.
How many babies you want.
How you picture your life.
The line of work you want to be in.
How it will feel when you're not here.
Just know that you changed me for the better.
You made me the best version of myself.

I know it's so connected, this mother-daughter thing.
But you can count on me.
You were and always will be my daughter, and mothers and daughters mean something to each other.


Did you know...

That I used to rock you?
Not to sleep, but when I held you, I would sway and rock.
I catch myself standing in line at the grocery store still making the motion with my body, as if you are still there, permanetly in place, heart to heart.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know...
That breastfeeding was so so lonely for me.
But late at night, when you would wake me up to feed you, it didn't feel that way.
It felt calmer, snuggled.
It felt private and special.
I would rub your ears to keep you awake enough to finish so you wouldn't wake back up.
I would talk to you.
I would read and when I would have to burp you to switch sides, I would steal time and hold you close for a little while longer.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know...
That dad was your go to when you were sick?
He would be the one to stay up in an upright position so you could sleep upright on his chest.
He cleaned up vomit and washed you off.
Did you also know he was the one to give you a bath every night when you were babies?
I would clean up the kitchen and he would put you in the bath.
I hope he remembers that time with you.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know...
Anna when you were first born, we would sneak you into bed at 4am for a snuggle.
Dad would be so nervous, but it was the snuggles I needed and moments I will always and forever remember about us.
Did you know that the first night I put you in the crib I cried, and you, like always, were ready?
Did you know that you took to your Lovey immediately? I would see you searching for her in the middle of the night and as soon as you found her, you would fall right to sleep.
Did you know that Lovey was my very first gift to you? And that I picked her out for you?
Did you know that from the first day you were born, I would say good-night by saying "I carry your heart with me"...the same way we say good-night to this day.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know...
That when you were first born Cole, the very first thing the nurses did was put you nose to nose with me, and we gave each other our very first little guy?
The same one we give each other to this day?
Did you know that you were born with highlights and this squishy face that was so perfectly round?
Did you know that dad looked so huge holding little you in his arms?
Did you know that I would sing our sunshine song to you and when you learned it too, it was the cutest thing ever heard.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know...
That you were both born with these huge blue eyes. They made you look like actual baby dolls. And your smiles, you made us fight for those smiles, you were both so serious.
But once you both found silly, you found it forever and always.
Did you know that I would sing to you while I changed your diaper.
Songs that I would make up?
And if you had belly aches, I would walk with you and sing "who let the gas out...toot toot toot toot" to the beat of "Who Let the Dogs Out" and I would crack myself up!
Did you know that about us?

Did you know that...
As amazing as parenting is and was and will be always...
it's also very lonely. And sad.
It feels like breaking up with yourself and falling in love and breaking up with the person you love and then falling back in love. All day every day.
It sometimes feels so tiring and no matter how many things you think you're doing right, you're questioning everything?
Did you know that I'm worried about you and having the time of my life with you all at the same time?
Did you know that you changed my marriage? And I liked my marriage and change is hard.
Did you know that just because you were born, I fell in love with your dad in a very different amazing way. That I was in awe of our love and what we did.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know that parenting ages you in a very different way?
The worry is different. The highs are different.
The years are slow and obnoxiously fast all at the same time.
Did you know that as you guys get older, dad and I remember who we were, who we still are, even through the fog.
Did you know that dad is my forever, and at this end of parenting, he's what I have.
He's our memories, he's my sip a drink and take it all in, he's my remember when they would guy.
He's my past, my here, he's my tomorrow.
Did you know that about us?

Did you know...
That even though you are exactly what I never knew I always wanted, and even though I remember the simple and happy of life before, I would do this all over again?
Did you know that holding you, raising you, swaying you, bathing you, feeding you, loving you, mothering you, did you know it's a life that fulfilled my purpose.
You fulfilled my purpose.
Did you know that about us?



Lovies, there is a secret that I really really hope I have kept from you. Even though we're not allowed to keep secrets, I kept this one...again, I hope. If you ever decide to read this blog and learn about us and you and me and dad and marriage and our life through my second chance, well, here's something I fought hard to keep from you.

I have always and forever hated the way that I look. Always and forever...always always and forever.

And, I have tried SO HARD. The one and only thing I can say is that Anna, once I laid eyes on you, I tried even harder to fix this and I also tried even harder to keep this part of myself hidden (only from you two) because I could not even think of passing this insanity down to you.

And that's just what it is, insane. I see beauty in every shape and size. I adore women with confidence in their bodies. I aspire to be just like them, they inspire me to be better. That's how I know it's insane. I can see someone that looks like me and think she's stunning and then with me, I think it all looks wrong.

I have no idea why in all of the healing I have done, this one lingers and keeps at me. But, what else can I do or think or say that I haven't already done or thought or said? I know those that know this about me are very much over it too. Hearing me complain, me constantly asking how it looks, should I wear it, what does this part of my body look like. They aren't going to tell me the truth anyway so what am I doing? So, I can continue to blame "them" and say "I know where it comes from and they still make awful comments about my body" but the truth is, I am 43 years old as I write this. Forty-three years of age. I have zero excuses. I either figure this out or I don't. I either figure it out, or I don't. Just me. No more them, me and me alone.

So last week, I posted a picture of myself on social media. A picture that I stared at for days and thought, should I, shouldn't I? So many judgemental thoughts running through my mind and I thought, ok, this is it, one more shot at trying to just stop this insanity.

So, I wrote the story and I hit post and now it's out there.
Me. After three years of lifting. A very different version of myself.

The craze in my mind is I have actually worked so hard to look like that picture. I just didn't realize my body was going there while doing it. I'm working hard every single day, as I have always done, but lifting is different and it changes your body so much.

The craze in my mind is that I call all the other amazing women strong and I see how clearly their strength shines through. But I don't see it for me, all I see is thick and different.

The craze in my mind is that my numbers are scaling up and that's never happened to me...the girl that's terrified to know the numbers because it messes with her head too much.

The craze in my mind is my coaches love it, encourage it, want more of it. Do not care what it should be, they want to redefine it.

My whole life, I have tried to "fix" this part of me. Trust me I know how unhealthy and how damaging it is to think of yourself and your body this way. I know how devastated I would be if my daughter had even one of these thoughts. I know how angry I would be if my son thought this way about any woman ever.

So I tried to prove myself...to me.
But the harder I tried, every time I "failed" I would feel like a failure.

I ran a marathon but hit a wall at mile 20. My body failed, I failed.
I had a baby but my body gave out and I couldn't deliver her. So I had a c-section. My body failed, I failed.
I had another baby, a planned c-section, but I couldn't heal. My MS wouldn't allow my nerves to heal for three awful months. My body failed, I failed.
I do yoga, but because of my hips, I always look "off", never graceful. My body failed, I failed.
I run half marathons but because of my hips, I look like a duck, awful form and that form can cause actual problems. My body failed, I failed.
I have done triathlons but I didn't learn how to swim until I was 36 so I'm awful at it. My body failed, I failed.
I'm slow, I'm not the strongest, I always have the wrong form. And I feel like a failure.

I'm not even going to pretend that this new workout routine has fixed any of this in my brain, but my best girl told me something that did make me think differently.

I just don't spend any time thinking or worrying about my body. I can either go down that rabbit hole, or I can spend my energy in other places.

Who would have thought that was even a possibility? Not thinking about how I look. Just give it the respect it deserves by not constantly thinking about everything I want to change.
So instead of trying to get to a place where I am "fixed" and love everything about me, what if I spent my energy differently?

Immediately after I was hit with three gorgeous women that shared little snippets of self-love.

I am changing the definition of beauty.
I am in love with the woman I've become because I fought to become her.
I am thicker and I love it, I mean, why else are we going?

And the one thing I do not keep as a secret is that I do think there are moments when the universe is trying to tell me things or give me things. So, yes, I will try and listen.

I am changing the definition of beauty.

I know it has nothing to do with a look, a specific look. I believe that, fully believe it. So just as I see everyone else change the definition of beauty, can I try to for me? Somewhere I got the idea that beauty for me meant being lean. Why do I even want lean? What is the look? What is the number? How thin is enough? How lean? Right now, all I see is thick and my body is no longer lean...anywhere. I can no longer make lean my definition. I am not representing beauty by being lean.

I write about #StrongIsTheNewPretty and no matter how much muscle I have or don't have, this family is strong. And I have overcome a lot to be exactly where I am, which is exactly where I want to be. This little life I lead, it is really gorgeous and I'm so so lucky.

I am in love with the woman I've become because I fought to become her.

I have fought hard for this woman. Really hard. I've been fighting since I was 8. I put down my fighting gloves years ago and then in 2020, I stopped proving I can do hard things because I can.

I hit a wall at mile 20, but I ran 20 miles and I finished a marathon. I fought hard for her.
I had a baby via c-section, but I had a healthy baby. I labored for 23 hours, and then I had surgery and I had a baby. I fought hard for my baby girl to come into the world and she is here. I fought hard for both of us.
I had another baby, a planned c-section, but I couldn't heal. My MS wouldn't allow my nerves to heal back together but eventually I did and during those three months, I mothered. I mothered a new born and a toddler. And I fought through my MS, like I have been for almost 20 years. I fought through and I fought hard for my babies and my body and I fought hard for me.
I do yoga, I do not look graceful, but I do it for me. I find my breathe and I sink into the floor, and I feel it getting better. I feel my body feeling better. I show up and fight for me.
I run half marathons and when I run, I do look like a duck. So much so that strangers stop me in town to ask if I'm the woman that runs on their street, I make that much of a scene. But, I run without music or noise. I run in silence and I listen to my awkward feet hit the pavement and I take in where I am. I fight for those runs and I fight for me.
I have done triathlons and I learned how to swim at 36 for them. Every time I felt like I was going to sink, but I always kept going. I fought for that finish line.
I'm slow, I'm not the strongest, I always have the wrong form. But I keep showing up and I keep going and trying. I fight for who I am.
I have fought hard for the woman I am, it's time I show up for her and give her some respect.

I am thicker and I love it, I mean, why else are we going?

My coaches, the other members that go, my sister, they cannot get enough of how much their bodies are changing.
That's why we're doing it.
But I didn't know when I first started and again, my crazy definition had to do with being lean. So as things started to get bigger, thicker, as the numbers climbed and things started to feel different, I panicked. A lot. I really really freaked out. And they just kept encouraging me and telling me, we're not done. Your strength is all we care about. Your health and your ability. You living up to that ability so keep going, keep working, keep trying and keep coming. And I am so I guess that's my decision. I'm in this. I'm doing this. On purpose, paying to look like this. So enough with caring about anything other than showing up and loving my time there and letting the rest...rest in peace.

This year, I'm going to work on respecting this body. Not loving it, but respecting it.
I'm going to work on better confidence. Not loving it, but appreciating it.
I'm going to work on spending my energy on other things, not obsessing over it, but respecting it.
Respect to you 43 year old.


What a thing...

What a thing...to be a parent.
What a thing...to be a kid.

We make you, create you, first in our minds, then here you are, little bits of us.
We think of you, day in and day out.
We wonder what you are wondering about.
We wonder who and how you will turn out.

We worry, we worry some more, and the older you get, the more worries that come.
We worry about the things we are doing wrong.
We worry about the things you will remember and the things you will forget.
We worry about what you are worried about, we worry for you, about you, we worry.

We embrace it all...and there is so much to embrace with parenting.
All of the changes and all of the time, and the days, and sports, and lessons, and friends, and personality changes, and we embrace it all.
We embrace the baby that wakes us up, and the toddler that keeps us moving, and the three-year-old that won't stop crying.
We embrace the child that starts to make decisions and the pre-teen that is coming into her own.
We embrace the past and where we are and what is to come.

What a thing...to be a parent.

You are made and given these people that tell you how much they love you.
You are made to think that we know what we are doing.
You are made to think that if you have a question, we have the answer.
Here's a secret you won't believe until you do this one day...no one has a clue and we're all just making it up.

You are given these people that tell you how much they love you.
They work to show you, they make sacrifices for you that you don't even realize.
You hopefully are made to feel safe, in their home, in their arms.

You are given these people and told they are your family, your forever and ever.
And the truth is, you get to decide if that too is different. Oh, how I do hope I am your forever and always, how I do hope that you will always think of the love and time we have shared. How I do hope you will continue some of the foundations we have set, how I do hope you build off of it, not have to tear it down to start over.
Oh, I do hope.

You trust. You trust us with your entire life. You trust that you are most important, you trust that we always have your back, you trust that we are there for you, will always be there for you, and you trust that we will always make the right decision for you. You trust with all your heart that we are yours.

What a thing...to be a kid.

Sometimes at night, I stay up thinking of adult you. What you will be doing, what could possibly hurt you.

What a thing...to be a parent.

Sometimes at night, you crawl into bed wanting to feel safe, knowing you are with us.

What a thing...to be a kid.

Sometimes during the day, I think of you sitting at school, being you in this place I've never seen you interact, but where you are you outside of me.

What a thing...to be a parent.

Sometimes during the day, you reach out to me and send me messages, hoping to grab my attention, knowing you are my most important thing and knowing I am always right there.

What a thing...to be a kid.

What a thing...to be a real family.


Comfort and joy

It's going to look like candles lit.
Baths on cold winter and fall nights.
Outdoor showers during the summer.
Using my dipping pool with a cool glass of wine.
And using our outdoor fire pits.

It's going to look like friends in my home.
It's going to look like so many family movie nights
and comedy standups that make me laugh so hard it hurts.
It's going to be a more intentional and organized home - cleaner, more balanced.

It's going to look like walks and yoga and finding a way to come back to my breath at night.
Sunday mornings in my robe and slippers.
Cozy clothes all of the time (because that's my new normal).

It's going to look like warm coffee and tea, all year round.
It's going to be less worrying, or a healthy amount of worry because who am I kidding.
It's going to be about opening myself back up, finding love in the world again.
It's going to be being there for those that I love.

It's going to be Sunday night dinners and grateful hearts.
It's going to be vacations with those that make me smile too hard.
It's going to be dancing more with my kids.

It's going to look like a lot of reading and reading dates and snuggles on the couch together.
It's going to be a lot of sports and running around to get them to their games.
It's going to be watching them be incredible teammates and friends.

It's going to be naps and second sleeps.
It's going to be smiling and feeling the joy in my bones.

It's going to look the same and different.
It's going to look sweet and sour.
It's going to look cozy and uncomfortable.
It's going to have joy and some heartache.
It's going to be another year that we take it day by day.
Another year that we walk slow.
Another year that we talk instead of scream.
Another year that we listen instead of talk.
Another year that we shut out the noise instead of welcoming it into our home.
Another year of quiet and loud.
Another year.

Lovies, all I ask is for some comfort and joy.

Follow childhooodtake2!

Back to Top
Social Media Auto Publish Powered By : XYZScripts.com