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 escape.

For the first time since COVID, I walked back into a yoga class.
For the first time since the world stopped spinning, I planted my butt on a mat.
I listened to my breath. And I stretched and melted.
I escaped.

It's early and either hot or cold.
It's just me and Pearl and no music, no podcast. Just the sound of my very awkward feet hitting the road.
You can really hear me breathing, because I'm not a good or strong runner, but I do run.
I escape.

A couple of years ago, I stopped racing. I stopped proving I could do hard things.
So, I started really enjoying a walk.
First thing in the morning, last thing at night, middle of the day walking.
Pearl is actually smiling on these walks, and so am I .
I escape.

Walking into the damn gym, the one with the really loud music.
So damn early, it's still dark out.
Everyone is tired, but everyone showed up.
And the coaches are motivating as hell and you walk out feeling...different.
It's a way to escape.

I guess movement is my escape. It's my mental release.
It's my reminder that I can move, I need to move. My mind needs me moving.
It's how I let go, give up control.
I stop caring about how awkward I look, how wrong ease pose looks, how I don't hold a position correctly, how my body stumbles and my balance is a bit off.
It's fine, I'm here and I'm escaping.

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 absence.

In the absence of protection, I built walls.
In the absence of support, I created supports.
In the absence of encouragement, I proved over and over and over that I could do hard things.
In the absence of unconditional love, I went searching.

I angered many along the way.
I got my heart broken because of my own hard lines.
I would wash my hands so easily.
I would fight any fight just to fight.
I fell for people hard.
I was searching.

When I found what I never knew I was always looking for, I felt a weight lifted.
I felt lighter, happier, and at peace.
And when I started to create my own family, I built my own protections.
I built my own support, encouragement, and unconditional love.
I stopped being so mad.
I retired my fighting gloves.
I stopped proving I could do hard things and I started appreciating what I did.

Through all of this, I have always loved my people.
I have always looked at others who just know what to do and how to do it and why they are doing it in awe.
I have looked at their healthy personalities in awe.
I continue to learn from you because, in the absence of guidance, I found my own light in the darkness.

Now, with our kids at this stage, this age, this time in our lives...I am leaning a little more on my own instincts.
What works for us.
In the absence of anger, I have found a way to be more open.
In the absence of being constantly angry at myself, I have found a way to be more self-accepting.
In the absence of self-doubt, I have found my way.

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 replace.

I am teaching myself to replace words like thick with athletic.
I am learning how to replace my negative thoughts with reminders of strength.
I am working on replacing "what am I doing wrong" with "I was not treated well."
I am working on me.

I am teaching myself that if it doesn't fit, it wasn't made for my body - so replace it with something else.
I am learning that muscles can be beautiful too and strength is something I have always wanted - so replace it with lean.
I am working on setting healthier lines in the sand - so replace the negativity in my life.

I am so keenly aware of the darkness in the world - so replace them with glimmers.
I am tapped into others emotions and allow them to replace my own; I take on the energy around me.
I am so tired of the bullshit, so replace it with moments of unbelievable beauty.

I will not be thick skinned, ever. But I can replace my see through body with shining a little brighter.
I will not be mean, ever. But I can replace my empath with not taking full responsibility.
I will not be cruel - but that means I have to stop being cruel to myself too. I have to find a way to replace my own sabotaged self thoughts.

I have spent a more than half this year with an eye on self respect.
I am working on me.

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 moment.

Our first nephew leaves for school this week.
I remember the day he was born.
I remember the drive from Rochester to be there.
I remember the look on my parent's faces.
I remember the excitement, my dad couldn't sit still.
I remember how much pain my sister was in.
I remember how long he took.

I remember how I held you, I remember them telling us your name.
I remember how little you were.
And then, in a moment, you're off.

You're the first of the four.
First of the four to do everything, sweetie.
Go to school, drive, high school, college trips.
The first of the four to head out.

Last night, when we talked about your first few days there, I got so excited for you.
And then, when we talked about you entering this world, my heart pulled a little.

This life that we are granted, is filled with moments.
Like when our kids start walking, talking, and asking for us.
Like first smiles, like looks across a room, like me knowing what you need more than anyone else.
Like learning to ride bikes and learning to ask for things and learning to make friends.
Like the first days of school and the last days of school.
Like starting days and ending them.

Moments, you have filled our world and our lives with moments.
Moments we remember, moments we want to forget, moments we treasure, moments we hold on to, moments we have let go.
Like them starting off on their lives, setting this world on fire like you set our hearts on fire.

To the little group of four.
We love you and the moments you have given us.

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 leave.

The beginning of visitors is all glory and smiles and actual tears of joy.
Hugs that won't stop, face touching because I can't believe you're standing in front of me!
Every few minutes, I'll burst out with...you're here!...and then we go on.

As the trip goes on, you become a part of our routine, see our everyday lives...and this is the best part.
As if you've always been here and we are this intertwined.
We get to know each other's intimate life, our mannerisms, our ways.

We eat together a lot.
There are drinks upon drinks upon drinks to go around.
We take walks and run errands and go shopping and check places out.
It's warm, no matter the temperature outside.

But, the leaving.
I can feel it coming, like this little ticking clock in my head.
And I know some feel that there is nothing to be sad about because it was so much fun it can carry you through, but the leaving.
I whisper in your ear a heartfelt thank you.
Thank you for coming, thank you for the warmth, thank you for the days upon days, the games, the late-night talks, the walks.
Thank you for all the laughing, the belly laughs that I have needed.
Thank you for showing me your soft side and your silly side too.
Thank you for wanting to be with the kids and us and the puppy and thank you for allowing us all to be.
Thank you for bringing her into our lives, for she is what we all never knew we always needed.
Thank you for making someone that was already a jewel in our hearts shine brighter because he was already magic and needed to find someone that appreciates that in him.
Thank you for realizing how much we need each other.

Thank you for our time together.
We love you.

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 milestone.

Oh this word.
This word is heavy for your mamma.
This word comes with development, moving on, moving away, moving forward.
And your mamma loves little.

Your mamma loves a baby.
And baby clothes.
And baby coos.
And baby toes and fingers.
And little bottles and little toys.
And little cries.
And cribs and snuggles and little.
Your mamma loves the little.

But you two are hell bent on growing up.
And so I follow your lead.
I follow you to pre-school and pre-k and Kindergarten and elementary and middle school and now high school.
I follow you through toys and dolls and smocks and mess to makeup and phones and friends and phone calls and time away.
I follow you to sleep overs and camps and more and more time away.

I follow your lead.

I follow you through pitter patter of feet to full on runs.
I follow you through sports that's like herding cats to making teams.
I follow you to Santa and magic and the excitement to understanding that the magic is all that matters.
I follow you through our traditions that keep growing and flowing.

I follow your lead.

So, sweet loves of mine.
This mamma of yours, the one that gets a little heavy with a new milestone, I'll follow you anywhere.

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 work.

It is no secret...this mamma LOVES to work.
She loves to sit down and have a few hours of quiet just me and my work.
I feel a certain hum while I'm working...I feel good about myself.

And so, I have to force myself to not love my work to death.
I cannot kill my work anymore.
I cannot become all about the work and I cannot kill what I created.
I have to have to have to find balance.
It is the reason I started this all. I want to be in your lives, I want to be present. I want to have other interests, I want to love other parts of my life.
I want to feel that hum elsewhere.

And so, I figured it out.
I stopped making everything a push.
I know when I need to stop.
I know when I need to give more of myself.
I know when I can walk away and I have other things that I can turn to.

My balance will never ever look 50/50.
It will never be an even split.
But, it will exist, I will make sure of it.

Because this time, I will be more than just my work and my career.
This time I will be the bride, puppy owner, runner, walker, mamma, friend, family member, love bug that I am.

But, to my work, I will always write you love letters.

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 impulse.

To cry and be emotional.
To be upset and then upset at me.
But also to laugh.
To love, so so hard.
To lean heavily into a routine but also to love a little adventure.
To bet my life on us.
To protect what I love, and especially our littles' childhood.
To love them with all I have, all I know, all I am.
To celebrate us, as many anniversaries and celebrations as I can think of because they are all so important.

I have an impulse to work as hard as I can.
But I am now learning to find the right balance.
I have an impulse to prove I can do hard things.
But now I'm done proving myself to me.
I have an impulse to work my body hard.
But now I am learning to fall in love with what it can do for me, what it has done for me.
I have an impulse to speak ill of myself. Make myself the reason for such heartache.
But now I am learning that I have to protect myself, a little harder.

I have an impulse to stare at you, while you're sleeping, or watching a show, or working on a project.
My impulse is to not take my eyes off of you and to take every single part of our time together.
I will never give that up.

I have an impulse to adore you. To love so deeply that I feel it somewhere deep in my bones.
My impulse is to love with all that I have or not at all.
I realize that is a gift and a flaw.

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 music.

There is something special about music.
Something magical actually.
It can make me happy, dance, sad, lonely, or feel so loved.
It can take me back in time, it can make me miss a person, or a place, or a time in my life.
It can remind me why I walked away from something or someone.

It can make me embarrass you with how I sing.
It can make me scream my lungs out with joy and abandonment.
It can make me curl up and think.
It can make me wild in the car, or in our kitchen.

It can make me want to sing to you, lovingly.
It can remind me of simpler days/times/memories.
It can make me feel heard and seen.

I remember a time when I would wake up to and go to bed listening to music.
I remember dancing with my girls in our college bedrooms or bars.
I remember our first dance, and the ones we had with our littles.
I remember lyrics and meanings.
I write about music that makes me feel something more.

There is something truly magical about music.

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 sunshine.

As I walked you to your bus stop, the sun shone brightly on us.
We are headed into our very last few days of middle school and soon, my first will be a high schooler.
Our last four years of "just us" will now be flying by.

I promise you, love of my life, I lingered in you and in us.
I did not blink, I watched and I watched and I stayed close to you.
I breathed you in. I held us close, I protected our time.

You are my sunshine.

As I tucked you in this week, it hit me that not only are you headed to middle school, but we, as a family, are done with elementary school.
Done with a school that was a massive part of our lives, your lives.
And my little boy is headed into three years of being in the middle.

When you were little, You Are My Sunshine, it was our song.
It was the theme of your first birthday party.
It was what we sang together when you were blue.
It was how I put you to bed each night.
When it comes on, we still smile at each other.

There is a warmth and light that shines so naturally from you.
One that makes everyone around you feel lit up.
And it is that specific loving thing about you that we can't lose.
That I will continue to protect and remind you of its importance in life.
It's who you are.

You are my sunshine.