Childhoodtake2!

Someone made a comment, it was a throwaway comment, about how soft and strong water is.
At the same time. Water is soft, flowy, flowing, and soothing. It's also strong, can take the heat and the cold. Can be flexible, can change over and over again. It can erode earth, rocks, and hard surfaces.
Water is both.
And you instantly popped into my mind.

You, my daughter, my first, my mini me, you are water.
You are soft...easily affected. Easily hit where it hurts.
You cry effortlessly. You hear things and allow it to really flow through you and you react to it.
You also care deeply. You move people to care deeply.
You laugh, from your eyes, your toes, your whole face. You laugh when things move you to.

You, my daughter, my first, my mini me, you are water.
You are strong.
You stand for things, even when you are still trying to figure it all out.
You know who you are even when you are still trying to figure it all out.
You know your worth.
You know what you like and what you don't and you do not stand for what you don't.
You do not allow it to bring you down.

You, my daughter, my first, my mini me, you are water.
You move through this world with grace and without effort.
You will have it all figured out in due time, but you know you have the time, so you are enjoying the ride.
You are drawn to water; you love to see it and allow it to take over when you need it to.

You, my daughter, my first, my mini me, you are water.
You nurture, you feed, you are needed. You are necessary.
You are such an important part of life.

I hope you continue on with these two very important characteristics. Both of which just came to you and you are nurturing. I hope you are strong; I hope you can bend when you need to, I hope you let of steam when you need to, I hope you harden only when you need to, I hope you continue to sooth people when they need you to. I hope you continue to be exactly who you are.

On this first of many lasts that this year will bring.
This first day of senior year.
This last first day of school, I watched you drive off, car completely decorated with all of you in mind.
I watched you and I will always be drawn to you.

With love always...and forever carrying your heart.

"No one taught me how to hold myself, so I learned.
I had to sit in the uncomfortable with my feelings and understand their value instead of always trying to dismiss them. I had to build my own sanctuary, creating safety instead of indulging in chaos. No one taught me to love myself, so I learned. I had to trade the criticism, unless it was constructive, with gentle affirmation. I had to build myself up, break myself down, and learn to love myself from my own heart.

I needed love, I needed encouragement, I needed to be seen and understood. I needed the younger version of me to know that her feelings were valid, her sensitivity was her strength, and it wasn't her fault she had to break just to meet her authentic self, halfway. She was shrinking to survive, and she learned to read rooms before she could even read herself. So, I sat with her. I listened and spoke with gentle wisdom when it was asked for. I told her it was okay to say no without feeling guilty, and to leave any room that didn't make her feel safe. I had to remind her that healthy love would never make her compromise her morals, respect, or values. I didn't try to save her. I let her learn. I let her be imperfect." - Moonsoulchild from her upcoming book "a soft place to heal".

If there were ever words written to me, for me, these are them.
This spring, I heard a woman talk about how parenting her kids felt so natural, healthy, and how she wanted to do that for herself.
I sat and thought to myself, the times I feel most good about me, is in my mothering.
And I want to expand that in other areas of my life and if I can do it for them, can I do it for me?

With mothering, I make mistakes and do not linger. I apologize and move on. I feel uplifted, living a purpose, and like I am making the right choices, even when they are wrong.
I feel as though I am present, and watching, and not once blinking, so I don't miss a thing.
But I am also very aware of my window and am planning for a time when all of us, under one roof, will be memories.
I am planning for the excitement of our next chapters.

I love with crazy passion. I kiss noses, and give little guys, and hugs, and hold hands, and squeeze, and guide, and will close my eyes having zero regrets. Zero. I loved you as hard as I possibly could and I will never feel like it was too much. Like I couldn't be myself in my crazy affection and love. I am never too much with you, ever. And no one will ever convince me otherwise.

I raised you well, I was gentle, and I was explosive. I was a listener. I laughed with you. I held you. I let you figure it out. I asked what you needed, and I delivered. I put in the work and to be honest, it did not feel like work. It was hard as hell, but it always felt right.

And now it's time for me to do this inward. It's time I figure this out in other areas of my life and it's time that I learn to love myself as much as I loved you.

I will need to learn to hold myself. Pause, a lot more. Sit with the uncomfortable.
Question it when someone is asking me to shrink. Hold myself and ask who/what this is about.
I will need to lean into the feelings and try to make sense of them. For me.
I will have to remember how many mistakes we all make, so I'm allowed too.
I have to rebuild a sanctuary. The one I built was torn down, and that happens, but that does not mean we don't build again. We build and rebuild as many times as we have to.
I have mourned losses for years, and that means I am mourning real, true love. I had that. That's why it hurts so much; there was real, true love right there. And now I need to find it again.

Loves, it is time I hold myself.
Respect and learn to love myself.
It is time I parent the girl who needed it then and needs it now.

May — Expand with Ease

Intention: Say yes selectively.
Follow curiosity and joy—without overcommitting.

I once wore being busy like a badge of honor. My calendar was filled with meetings and every moment had an agenda and a plan.
My whole body was heavy, exhausted, screaming at me.

I lived in constant, organized, full calendars.
I was in agony.
I said yes to anything that was asked of me.
Anything that was hinted as an ask, I jumped at the chance.
I lived for work and relished in busy.

I promise I was not trying to stay distracted, I just didn't see a way out.

But all of that changed. And I found a better way. A clearer way.

Saying yes is intentional now. Saying yes means something. It means I am saying no to something else, probably something that I want to do, so I better want and or need to be there. I better be learning a lot, moving a cause forward. I no longer say yes because I am programmed to do so.

I am learning what it means to expand with ease and be a little more intentional.
I am learning who else I am outside of my work, outside of my career and titles.
I am learning to be more whole and more at ease. I am taking so much time for myself.

I am learning to not fill my days up and brag about my schedule. I put that badge away. I did earn it, but it needs to be placed in the drawer, where it now belongs.

My days are becoming more mine.
I am learning what it means to expand with ease.

I am truly honored to be here and it is not something I take lightly.

I know the value of being surrounded by so many remarkable women and I want to thank you for breaking barriers, leading businesses, supporting communities, raising families, and still somehow finding the strength to lift others along the way.  

And if I’m being honest, I have sat in this audience for over 2 decades and never once thought I belonged on this stage, accepting any sort of award.

Because my story never started with, nor does it end in, confidence.

I have been defined by walking through fear.

Over and over again.

After spending more than 20 years loving my role in the nonprofit world, I heard an annoying voice telling me it was time to move on.

And I tried to squash it, I dug deeper into my work, thinking I could hard work the voice away.

At first, all I could think about was leaving behind a career that raised me, built me, and gave me the identity I had known for so long, but that voice wouldn’t stay quiet. And little did I know it was ambition and grit trying to break through.

I didn’t have all the answers, and shocker, I wasn’t overflowing with confidence. I just knew I had hard work wired in me; I knew that I cared deeply about people.

So I took the first step.
And then the next one and the next one after that.

But what I’ve learned is that courage isn’t about feeling fearless.
It’s about choosing to move forward anyway.

Even when your voice shakes.
Even when you’re unsure.
Even when it would be easier to stay where you are.

I want to be clear that my years in the nonprofit world shaped who I am. They taught me that when you invest in people, when you believe in them, and truly see them, you create something far greater than success. You create strength.

Capital CFO+ was built on that belief. But more than anything, it was built on relationships.

And for me, every step forward has always been rooted in people.

I would not be standing here without the people who have surrounded me along the way. Those who have believed in me, always more than I believed in myself. Specifically, everyone at tables 27, 28, and 18.

You protect my light.

You remind me who I am when I forget… hold space for me when things feel heavy… and encourage me to keep going, even when I don't feel strong.

Because the truth is, strength doesn’t always look the way we think it should.

Sometimes, it's is quiet and vulnerable.
Sometimes, it’s just taking the first and then next step.

For me strength is showing up. It’s kindness and resilience. Strength is having the courage to become exactly who you are meant to be.

To my daughter and my son, you are everything good. Everything I do is rooted in the kind of world I want you to grow up in… one where you feel confident, supported, and unafraid to take up space.

And to my husband, I no longer know how to say thank you but from the moment we met until the day we die, you are forever their hero and my coach.

This award means so much to me because it represents more than business success. It represents every moment where fear could have won, but didn’t. And it is not just mine. It belongs to the team, our clients, my family, and this incredible community. It belongs to those who believed in me.

So today, I just want to say thank you.

I want to end by saying to every woman here, please keep going.
Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when it’s uncertain.
Especially then.

Because sometimes the most powerful thing we can do… is take that next step forward anyway.

So, as the expression goes, here is to strong women, may we know them, may we be them, and may we raise the hell out of them.
Thank you so much.

Recently, I have been thinking about past loves.
And when your time together ends, where does all the love go?
For some, it is pushed out of their minds. Put into compartments.
That was then, with them...this is now without them.
For others, they can look back fondly and remember those times with warmth and gratitude but still move on.
And for others still, the love creeps up and comes out.

It comes up in dreams.
It comes up with tears flowing down your face during a run.
It comes up as you close your eyes at night.
It comes up on gray and rainy days.

For some, the love is lost.
For others, it remains a memory keeping you warm like a blanket.
And for others still, it feels a little too heavy to carry all of the time, so it comes out sideways.

And maybe grief walks you through all three stages.
There are days it feels too heavy, other days it feels gone, and others till where it feels warm and comforting.

Because to be loved and to love is truly beautiful.
It is so raw and real.
It should be a whole body experience where the I love yous just pour out.
To be surrounded in that beauty, even for a little while, is special.
And it's a special time with that person. You are sharing something together.
You are in on it together.
This connection, this bond, this feeling.

So if that time ends, if you are in a position of mourning that love, grieving that time, just make sure you handle it the way you feel you need to.
If you need to push it out of your mind to survive, then do so.
If you need to push it out of your mind because you have moved on and thinking about it differently is pointless, then do so.
If you need to linger and feel the weight of that love and cry yourself to sleep, then do so.
And if there are moments that it comes rolling back in, to remind you of a special time, with someone you loved, allow the memory.

Because for some...
The love is lost.
For others, it remains a memory keeping you warm like a blanket.
And for others still, it feels a little too heavy to carry all of the time, so it comes out sideways.

I have been really focused on your birth this year.
Seventeen feels, seems, is older.
Older than I am ready for at times.
So, I am feeling all of my feelings.
I am deep into the memories of that day, those hours.

And today, you drove us around, running errands, listening to your tunes, me dancing and singing...just a little...with you. And I could not take my eyes off of you.
I am so so proud of who you are.

But 17 means more college visits.
More planning for your incredible future.
More plans.
You having a life.
A whole life.
One that is getting bigger and bigger and my view is getting smaller, just as it should.
Our next season is starting.

The one where we start to count down the one year we have left of 24-7 access and all of the time together.
The one with family shows, movie nights, all of it.
Because you have bigger things to do and bigger things to tackle, and bigger things to embrace.
You have a much bigger plan than this little life.

I am forever proud of us Bella.
I am forever proud of how close we still are.
And as we move further and further away from one another, as you go off and live this life you want, I promise to give you all the space while always being your foundation.

And I have had this incredible front row seat, to this incredible walking around human.
And I love you for always.

Tomorrow, at 6:45pm, will be 17-years of me sitting and realizing my water broke.
The hospital stay from hell.
The worry, the laughs, the pain, the exhaustion, the pushing, the surgery, the worth it moment when I finally saw you.
And then, the face, eyes, noices, little, sleepy faces, crying, I fell so so hard for.

And I continue to fall harder and harder each day.
Happy birthday sweet angel of mine.
Happy 17th birthday to my amazing and wonderful daughter.
I carry your heart with me, I carry it in my heart.

Gently Awaken

Begin without force, and let's take one small step toward what feels alive again.

One small step, like realizing my hard work and grit at work is being recognized, and allowing myself to feel the recognition.

One small step, like looking at my daughter, on the cusp of turning 17, and starting her college tours and experiences. Seeing the experience through her excited and new eyes. God, glorious daughter, you are magic.

One small step, like looking at my son who still smooches me goodbye in the morning. Who still tells me he loves me. Who wants to have our breakfast on Sunday traditions. God, wonderful child, you are sunshine.

One small step, like how alive I feel when I move this body that works so hard for me.

One small step, like how alive I feel when I write to you, leave you this part of me, these memories of us.

One. Small. Step.

To gently awaken and feel alive again.

One. Small. Step.

Dear February, let's reconnect.
Let's come back to myself.
Let's strengthen routines that support my energy, my sleep, and my emotional safety.
Let's remember, in the month of love, that there are things to love...about myself.
Because it is easy for me to focus on my wrongdoings.
My mistakes, my regrets.
So, let's remember the good and fall, even a little in love, with me.

Let's reconnect with the fact that you are a good, kind, loving mother.
Let's remember that your 16-year-old wants to talk to you about her day, and your 13-year-old, he still likes to be squishy with you.
Let's remember that the work you put into parenting, the work that did not feel like work sometimes, it felt as natural as breathing.
Let's remember the cycles you broke, how natural that felt, too.
Let's remember the hugs, the kissing noses, the hand holding, the little sayings, the traditions upon traditions that have now become their foundation.
Let's remember the open talks, the boundaries, and the trust you formed.
Let's remember how you allowed them to feel protected as you continued to let go and go and go. How unnatural that felt, and how you fought your natural feeling to allow them to feel independent.
Let's remember that you raised, with your person, two remarkable people.
Let's remember, you are a good, kind, caring, and loving mother.

Let's remember that you are a good friend.
Let's remember how you build people up, you do not knock them down.
Remember that you are an all-in friend, and that comes with a lot of baggage and heartache, on both sides, but it also means you would give your all for those you love.
Let's remember how fiercely you project, how you will never allow their light to go out.
Now, let's remember to do the same for ourselves.
Let's remember you, too, have a light that deserves to be projected, and it's up to you, and you alone, to protect it.

Let's remember how hard you love.
Let's remember that others get to feel the warmth of that love.
Let's remember that your puppies feel warmed by that love.
And your person, the one you promised to share your life with, will never live a day without that love keeping him safe.
Let's remember that love from you comes with a stamp for life. You will always and forever love someone you once loved.

Let's remember the work you have done to forgive those who have never apologized for how they treated you.
Let's remember the grace and love you showed and continue to show them.
Let's remember the work you continue to do on yourself. How hard you are on yourself. You are the first to point out your faults, the one who focuses on your shame.
But also, please remember there is a lot of good in you, too. Good that needs to be remembered and held. Hold on to that good too, because it's there. It's living inside of you, and it's time you remember her too.

Yes, you are a work in progress.
Yes, you will not stop working on yourself.
And that too is good.
But please, remember that you are not only a work in progress.
There is already good that lives, breathes, exists.

Dear February, let's reconnect.

As I look back at a year that felt heavy and difficult.
A year that brought worry, anxiety, and concern.
A year that brought a little more loss, a little more chaos, a little more hard.
But also a year that brought a little more clarity, a little more strength, a little more light.
I need to remember that I worked hard this year.
Hard on myself, hard on my health, hard on my emotions, I tried hard this year.

And, for the very first time, ever, I am reflecting back on my lessons learned and what I want to leave behind, and what I want to carry with me.

1. People are everything. And sometimes hard lessons come from people. And most times, I hold on to the wrong people for way...too...long.
   • Is it fear of conflict? Is it loyalty? Is it hope...hope that it will go away, all turn around? Is it a lack of confidence, a lack of self-respect? No matter the reasons, the many, many reasons, I have to remember that the cost of holding on to those that do not build us up is way too expensive.
   • And the key takeaway, I have to remember that it is always kinder in the long run to address things early than to prolong uncertainty for everyone...myself included.
     
2. Leadership in my business is not a one-size-fits-all. I cannot lead with only my heart. I have to learn to balance with strength and clarity. I am empathetic, I am a relational person. But sometimes, pure strength is needed, and sometimes, a balance of both is needed.
   • So, in 2026, I will blend empathy with clear expectations. I will offer support with accountability. I will have the difficult conversations with integrity and grace.
   • And the key takeaway, leadership is not soft vs. strong, it's compassionate clarity.
3. Money matters, and it's okay to talk about it.
   • This year, personally and professionally, we tightened priorities, we had honest conversations about sustainability and growth, and we learned about resilience and transparency.
   • And the key takeaway, financial clarity breeds confidence.
4. Find a framework that helps you find yourself.
   • For me personally, it was a mantra that I repeated: I see and protect the light in me, and the light in me sees and protects the light in you.
   • For the business professionally, it was EOS. It defined who we are as a company. It aligned our priorities, roles, and created rhythms, formulas, and an amazing dance. It opened up honest communication structures and helped shape and form us.
   • And the key takeaway, having a framework gave me a language and a way for me to grow.
5. Identity matters, and I am someone who cares.
   • That phrase became more than a slogan. It is my company's slogan because it is who I am, who we are.
   • This phrase grounded me when decisions were hard. It helped me to help others understand who I am, who my company is.
   • And the key takeaway, clarity about my identity strengthens my decision-making. It's my guiding star.
6. Trust is built, not assumed.
   • In the beginning of starting my company, I built something that had positions with unclear roles. We always wanted to protect each other, but we didn't have a way of making things more, well clear. We didn't want unhurt feelings. And we kept making the same old mistakes.
   • And in my life, I did the same thing. I was unclear about my line, my limit. I spent this year making clearer decisions. Pausing...more. Listening...more. Not having to interject. Not having to have 1-2 people, 3-4 people, be my everything.
   • And the key takeaway is, trust is a muscle.

2025, you were not my favorite. You were not the light of my life. But, you taught me so much. You gave me so many lessons to bring into 2026 and for that, I thank you.

"You can't skip chapters, that's not how life works.
You have to read every line, meet every character.
You won't enjoy all of it. Hell, some chapters will make you cry for weeks.
You will read things you don't want to read, you will have moments where you don't want the pages to end.
But you have to keep going.
Stories keep the world revolving.
Live yours, don't miss out."

There are chapters I go back and re-read.
Over and over again.
Chapters like my college years.
Chapters like the beginning with Dad.
Chapters like the beginning with you both.
Chapters like our traditions, our trips, our Friday night snuggles.
Chapters like the adoption of all three of our puppies.
Chapters like all of your firsts, all of them.
Chapters like how long you lingered in childhood.
Chapters like how I would watch you sleep, and it was almost so precious that it hurt.

Then, there are chapters I wish I could skip.
But, if I skipped them, I would miss too much.
Like the seven chapters of fog that rolled in on us, if I never reread those pages, I would miss the beginning of Cole.
I would miss so so many firsts that I could not imagine pouring over those pages.
I would miss our first family trip.
I would miss so much joy.
And I would miss a very important lesson about family, how difficult things can get, but how loving they can still be.
I would miss the lesson that two things can always be true at the same exact time.

If I skipped the chapters of heartache, the ones where I had so much loss and disconnection...
Then I wouldn't have the chapters of love, warmth, and connection that brought on the heartache.
Heartache, grief, loss, it doesn't come without love, longing, and incredible memories.

So no, I can't skip those times..
I want to remember the good, even if it ended in ways I would not want.
Even if it ended in ways I would want.
I have to remember it all.
Luckily, my memory wouldn't allow me to forget.
I have it all locked in, at all times. Ready to recall.

I love you guys.
And if I don't say it enough, I'm so lucky to be your mom.
I am so proud of the books we have written together.
I cannot wait to see the ones you write on your own, but thank you for the most amazing library that fills our home.