18
Sep

Five Minute Friday - church

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 church.

Go.

For some, it takes place in a building.

For some, it means praying and rituals and symbols.

For some, it means there is a "Person" involved, a God of sorts.

For all, it is a feeling, a meaning, a peace, and that can happen anywhere.

Church can be pancake Sunday with the kiddos so excited and happy and the coffee warm and loving.

Church can be our happy hearts where we share what we are grateful for, that week, during that time.

Church can be a run, a yoga class, a feeling of letting go and allowing something else to be in control.

Church can be a really hot shower, a warm bath. The sinking in to water that is needed to wash the day away.

Church can be an ocean, a beach, the sound and rhythm of the back and forth that allows you to listen, really listen.

Church can be a bed, calling to you. Asking you to close your eyes and lay your worries down.

Church can be a race, the adrenaline running through your veins as you come together as a community.

Church can be losing yourself in a book, forgetting all about yourself.

Church can be your community service and remembering others need you, this world needs you.

Church can be putting your babies to sleep, looking at those little faces, telling them we did our best today, tomorrow we will do better because we know better.

Church can be telling your family you love them and the feeling that comes from hearing it back, even when they talk to you from their sleep.

Church is not contained in walls, buildings, or by the God we worship. Church is all around us.

Stop.

14
Sep

Fall

The leaves are starting to yellow in New York. The nights are cooler, the sun sets earlier, the mornings feel cold. No matter what the calendar says, it's fall in New York.

It dawned on me tonight that for the first time since I became a mama, I did not make a summer wish list. I just kind of let it happen. If I really sit down to think about why, I think that someone that lives and dies by lists, can't make a list and not check it off. And with 2020, everything is too up in the air to make a list and stick to it, so I didn't want to bother at all. So, I didn't. And like I have learned in the crazy year, the earth didn't explode, nothing stopped working, I just didn't make a list and that was ok. Do I love my summer and fall lists, god I do. Do I miss them, oh hell yes. Will I go back to them, I will I will, but NOT having a list did not mean our summer was awful.

In fact, we squeezed every bit out of this summer. We watch the sun go down, we stayed up talking, we laughed, we walked, we rode bikes, we watched so many movies, we swam in the ocean, we looked at the stars, we ate ice cream, we walked some more, we did so so many house projects, we hung around our puppy, we danced, we cried, we cleaned, we made so many messes, we did a ton of trips, we were tourists in our own town, we ate and ate and ate, we had so many s'mores, we fought, we slept, we napped, we worked, we worked out, we walked and walked lots more, we vacationed, we surprised each other, we celebrated birthdays, we talked a lot, we made fires and roasted marshmallows. We squeezed the hell out of this summer.

Last week, we talked about some of our favorite parts. I forgot that summer was when we came out of quarantine and started to see friends again. I talked about our little weekend getaway to the Brightfuls. We talked about the 4th of July, the Cape, mom and dad talked about our track day with the Berrys. We talked about our upcoming Lake weekend and how much we all really needed it.

We talked about how much fun the 4th was, even though it was certainly not our usual and how it was still full of magic. We talked about the Cape and how even in 2020, being so careful and with the masks, it was exactly what it has always been...8 fools madly in love and basking in the warmth. We talked about the water and the beach and our house there. At the peak of summer, it is hot and perfect. It was the time that I needed. The vacation and time away that was necessary. The normal in the crazy of 2020.

As we drove to the Lake, you could clearly see the start of fall. New York has a way of really setting fire to the trees and it's starting to happen. The yellow is happening at the tip of the leaf, some are showing signs of red, but there is still enough green to help you remember summer was only two weeks ago.

As we looked out our huge window onto the Lake, all I could feel was calm. We were surrounded by older kids who were able to be and do. We didn't have to keep such a cautious eye. But, still little and having fun playing in the water and acting like fools. We got to watch our boys snuggle in bed and say goodnight to each other, somehow like brothers. Our girls stay up talking too late like teenagers, all of us too tired to tell them to knock it off, maybe because it was too cute to stop.

It was the end that I needed. The goodbye that was necessary. The normal in the crazy of 2020.

Tomorrow, for the first time, my babies head to separate schools. My daughter, fully immersed in the in-between, is headed to middle school. Middle school. My baby girl is in middle school. I cried so so hard the day she started kindergarten. I could not believe that little face was climbing a bus and I lost it for weeks. By the time it was Cole's turn, I was a disaster at the reality that I would be working home alone for the first time since I was a mom. And tomorrow, this milestone hits. She is ready because she did not like being out of school for six months. She is ready because she likes teachers and misses friends. She is ready because she wants to have her routine and structure and separate life. She is ready because, she is. She is always more ready than me, why would this be any different.

My son will start grade 3. Ferdinand in all his glory. "Will you be kind"..."yeah". "Will you remember to listen and show respect..."yeah". "I love you..."I love you too". As we talked about all of the reasons we love each other...reasons like "you're smart mom, you have a big heart Cole, you're always up for playing with me buddy...I always have my playmate..." we said good-bye to our second grader. One more year, one more leap.

Like most in this country, this week marks us leaving each other for the first time in 6 months. I have no idea how we all did this. I have no idea what tomorrow will feel like. I have needed quiet for a very long time. I have needed time alone. But, I'm also me and walking away from them after six months is going to hit me. I'm going to feel weirdly alone and like it will be too quiet for a while. Six months is a fascinating amount of time. Day in and day out of each other and we all just kept going.

The leaves are starting to yellow in New York. The nights are cooler, the sun sets earlier, the mornings feel cold. No matter what the calendar says, it's fall in New York.

30
Aug

Ferdinand

Monkey man, well, you have reached that age. The age where the babyface and the baby cheeks and the baby belly have gone away. You are all lanky and thinning out, the baby is washing away. My baby is fading away.

You are eight. With eight, comes a little boy that is very loud, and impulsive, and quick, and doesn't follow through, and stomps (instead of walking), and yells (instead of talking), and is a bull in a china shop. There is a definite transition. You went from Curious George, small and curious in the most amazing way, jumping and climbing and wondering and always looking at things differently...to Ferdinand. But, I know Ferdinand, and I'm in your corner.

I know Ferdinand. I know how much his heart is full. I know how much more he loves to love than fight. I know that he doesn't have a fight in him until he is pushed and his back is up against a wall. Even then, he will sit in love and ask to be spared.

I know Ferdinand. I know that with this love comes energy. And excitement. Energy and excitement that bursts out of you because you love life and the beauty that comes with it and you cannot understand why others are not taking advantage of that. I also understand that energy and excitement can be tough for some. I know Ferdinand.

I know that you have two switches...on or off. I know. I am well aware that the on switch means you are go go go. I know that the off switch means you are asleep. I know that the sleep you have is deep and meaningful, you lived yet another good day.

I know Ferdinand. I know that he is big, all over. His personality, his laugh, his smile, his heart, his love. I know that Ferdinand wants to run and play and I know he wants to be with his family. I know that precise is not his strength, I know that careful is not his priority. I know that he knows life is just too short to be that meticulous. I know that he deeply cares what others think of him and I know he wants others to like him and think he is kind. I know that kindness matters. I know that he is one amazing friend. The kind that would give up everything to have that friend be happy. I know that he would walk through fire for people, he would give all he had to another...I know Ferdinand.

I know that he loves nature and to be outside. I know that he does not care about what he is wearing or even if he has clothes on because he is a hot box. I know that playtime is everything to Ferdinand. It's his job, he plays like it is his job and he is really good at it. I also know that when Ferdinand wants to be creative, he can be, but only when it comes to building a lego set. Something he will sit and do for hours. I know that naps are not his thing, but snuggles are. I know that sitting is hard, so he has to be doing something else. I know Ferdinand.

I know that his dad is his best buddy. I know how much he looks up to his dad, even if his dad is grumpy and being a bull and puffing out his chest and being gruff...I know that his love is so deep that he just sees his best friend, right here living in his house with him - every single day. He wakes up and his best buddy is just there! He goes to bed and his best buddy reads to him! He plays basketball with his best buddy! They play ball together and go on adventures together. He gets to wake up and live with his moon and stars right there with him, that excitement is hard to control. I know Ferdinand.

I know that others find it hard to keep up. I know that some will even make fun of how gentle you are. I know that others will really struggle that gentle does not mean or look like careful, I know that. I know that Ferdinand can really wear you out and down. I know that it is really really hard to be around that level of energy all of the time. I know that he needs to be reminded to quiet down. I know that he needs to be reminded that people are sleeping so stop talking to them. I know that he needs to be reminded to find something quieter to do. I know that things break around Ferdinand, things fall. I know how clumsy he is. I know that spills are inevitable, I know that he feels so badly about it but also doesn't know how to make it better.

I know that some will try and just "do it" because it's going to all fall apart so why bother with the cleanup. But I also know that he and I have a different approach and language. Spill it, Ferdinand, we can clean it up together. It's okay if it breaks, let's learn to be more careful. Don't just leave a mess, you're not entitled to have a fulltime cleaner on your side, you have to learn to take care of the messes you create. It's okay if your clothes get dirty Ferdinand, they didn't have a fighting chance so go...go play outside. You and I have a different approach because I know Ferdinand.

I know his smile, I know his wonderment. I know his love of life. I know how hard he goes. I know he is a bull in a china shop. I know he has one volume, one speed. I know his big blue eyes see things differently than most. I know he is just a really good person. I know Ferdinand and I'm not just in your corner, I am all in on you and your love of this life.

26
Jul

Easier

2020, for me, started gently. I had set my intention...all is calm, all is bright. After years and years of hurting myself and breaking my brain, 2020 was when I was going to be gentle...on me. I went into 2020 with ways to make my life easier. I started my relationship with the year by wanting a better relationship with myself.

The things I wanted accomplished all had to do with slowing down, making life a little easier.

  • At least one year off of all races. That means no triathlon, no half marathon, no pushing myself to the point of pain to prove I can do hard things. I have already proved that to myself. I can do hard things. Now, I would run for the love of running. I would ride my bike because I like to ride. I would work out, I would still work my body, and I would be tired after, but I would feel good about that.
  • More intentional time with my family. Dinner, together. No more me sitting at dinner worrying about all I have to get back to. I just wanted to sit and enjoy dinner with my family. Breakfast together. I wanted to sit and take you in during the morning and I wanted our mornings to be lighter, full of love and kindness.
  • A slower start to my day. Me able to put them on a bus. Big hugs and a mom there, with you.
  • Walks with Pearl, multiple times a day. Me and my girl able to take breaks and take in the cold, watch the seasons change together.
  • More yoga. I wanted to stretch and do the one thing that makes me quiet and still.
  • Save more money because I was in a position to start making more money.

We are halfway through now. 2020 threw us all for a loop. And although there are many things on my list that are weird now, most of my intentions have been met.

When the pandemic first started, it was so obvious what instantly became easier in our lives.

  • A husband whose busy season was canceled. Just canceled. Me having to be a full-time parent all by myself ended. It was the first spring we have ever had him home with us.
  • All of the kiddos springtime activities were canceled. Because on top of him being gone, their activities are nonstop in the spring and all of those came to a halt.
  • Even if I wanted to do a race, there was no way to get tempted, they all ended. Canceled for the year.
  • Me working hard for one job works for me. It works really really well for me. Now, I no longer start at 4am and go until I collapse at 10 at night. Now, I get up later, (most times I am no longer setting an alarm,) and I work out, I have some coffee and I start. I still have early morning meetings, I still have things to work around, I still am falling into old patterns of making myself too busy, but I am immediately recognizing it and making changes to get back on the right track. Working one job and focusing on that one job, that works for me.
  • Pearl is living her best life with slow car rides, trips, so many walks, time with us, she is one happy little puppy.
  • Time with my kids is plentiful...almost too much and we need to find some time apart but all in all, we are making it work well.
  • So many naps, and is there anything more gentle on your body than a big old nap?

As time continued to slowly crawl by, it also became glaringly obvious what was now harder.

  • Kids have been out of school since mid-March. They may (YIKES) go back to school this September. They may (YIKES) not go back to school this September. They may (YIKES) go back to school part-time this September. By the time September hits, children will be home 6 solid months. Six solid months. If they don't go back, if they do go back, all of it will be hard.
  • Alone time. I miss being in my home for a full workday alone. I miss my Mondays (only conference call meetings) and Fridays (no meetings so only accomplish work) and I miss my time.
  • Seeing people we love. My kids miss friends, a lot. Like all kids, they just want to be around other kids. They really really really want to be around other kids.
  • We spent almost four months not seeing a soul and that was really tough. I definitely need my people. We are slowly opening up to others, but nothing is the same.
  • Worry, we all have no idea what any of this will look like. What the long term effects of this will be. How this will all end or when it will end. We are all guessing about the right things to do for our family. For our kids. For our jobs. For our futures. For our health. Everything is a total guess.

We have all really gone through all of the emotions of this. We have all gotten on this roller coaster and are up and down and up and down. We are all surviving and we are all doing the best we can. We are all making the best out of it. We are all enjoying it and not. We are all out of our minds and the calmest we have ever been. We all taken stock in what is important but I don't think we have all learned our lesson yet. I see us going back to our "old ways" as soon as we possibly can and that makes me so sad.

The world should not have had to stop spinning for me to slow down. But it did so I am going to really listen. I am going to take a look at what is actually important and although there may be times I will be "more busy" than I want to be, I will no longer make "busy" my badge of honor. This year has certainly been hard and I am very privileged in that I know only one person who got very ill and he has turned the corner, both of us have had an income, everyone in our four walls have been healthy. We have been so lucky. So the least I can do is say that I am going to take all the lessons I learned in 2020 and continue to make my life easier.

5
Jul

It's my honor

As milestones pile on and time starts really speeding up, this introverted mother has really gotten sad. So sad that you will find me folded into myself. So sad that I feel very heavy, unable to breathe, and like someone might be standing on my chest. So sad that I call framily huddled by garbage cans hysterical and unable to be understood. So sad, that I message framily and can't get through my thoughts because the tears won't stop coming. So sad that I need to make sure my littles don't see me so I hide.

And then, my wise loving friend reminded me...we get to watch our babies grow up. That is a privilege, it's actually an honor. And I never ever thought of it this way. We get to watch them grow and figure it out. We get to be a part of every single milestone so far. We get to experience this, we get to watch them figure it out, we get to do all of this.

When a mother has to do the unthinkable and put their babies to rest, I have heard them cry out for what I get to do. I won't ever see them...I won't ever watch them...I won't be able to be there when...that was all I needed to hear.

My sweet girl, my Anna James, the one I named after a strong woman that doesn't realize her strength, the one that started my path. From the moment I met you, I knew you would be teaching me. I knew that I would be following your lead and I knew that you would be in charge of our dance. There are times when I cannot believe I am the mom you are turning to because you have taught me way more than you will ever realize. I will continue to learn from you, I will continue to be the one you will lean on and I thank you for your gift of motherhood. Your smile, your personality, your sense of humor, your love of reading, your consumption of books as if they are food, your love of Nutella, your love of silly, your love of friends, your need for framily, your desire to stay little because you too love childhood. I promise I will listen more than I talk. I promise I will never make your feelings less than. I promise that I will remind you that a good night's sleep will cure most things. I promise I will laugh with you when things are funny. I promise to be silly. I promise to also be your mom, the one that sets your limits and boundaries, I promise to be your structure. Most importantly, I promise to be your foundation and the one you can always come home to. I promise to remind you how strong we are, how much we can do, how much we can overcome and I promise to fill you with the hope of a better tomorrow.

To my loving son, the one we named after a dad who you resemble in all of the best ways. The one that taught me, love, at first sight, was possible. The one that made me fall in love with joy again. The one that reminds me of how incredible it is to love love. The one that reminds me of why and how hard I fell for dad because you embody all the good that he also carries. The one that is just happy because life is good. The one that believes, always, that every day is the best day...just because it's a new one. The one that taught me to fall in love with Lego messes and building and who reminds me...connection brings peace. All you want is time with us and you will demand it no matter what. Your energy, your heart, your imagination, your creativity, your love of love, your little guys. I promise to play with you, I promise to really connect with you. I promise to always let you build. I promise to trust you. I promise to build you into a man that will be accountable for his actions and realize that every action has a consequence, you pick if it's good or bad. I promise to always love your love for your dad and remind him how special that is. I promise to always try and keep up with you. I promise to try and see things the way you do, and I promise to teach you to do the same.

My littles, there are so many things this mama does that needs a redo. So much I feel like I am messing up and so much I keep trying. But, there are also things that are being done right.

Like I will forever protect your childhood, it's how we approach everyday.

Like I never ever take advantage of the time we have, I know that it is fleeting and I know how small our window is so I see it every day...I see our family every day and I take us in and hold us close.

Like although I mess up, I have very little that I regret.

Like I didn't just introduce you to the concept of framily, I helped create and structure your first framily ties and connections. And, I picked right. I always have. From the framily that reminded me that this is my privilege, this is my honor, I get to watch you become...to the framily that got to work and filled my Amazon cart with things to put some love and connection and control in the uncontrollable...the ones I call crying when nothing makes sense and they listen and guide me...the ones that teach me that "what makes adults adults and kids kids is that even if we haven't been through THIS, we've been through STUFF. And, we can (even unconsciously) know that things can work out and things can get better and feelings and situations aren't forever. Kids haven't been through STUFF so they don't actually know any of that". The ones I call hiding near garbage cans. The ones I call locked in my room and freaking out and they bring their mama knowledge like the bosses they are. The ones that make me laugh by saying, "none of this is happening, so let's stop talking about it" because they too are scared. A hubby that reads about what and how to do this all. This is our circle of love. The trust we have built. The courage and needing of each other and the leaning and knowing we are always there. I didn't just introduce you to the concept of framily, no, I helped create and structure your first framily ties and connections.

Like how I apologize when I am wrong and ask for your forgiveness.

Like how I dance with you.

Like how I sing on the top of my lungs in the car and make you feel music and how it can move you and help work out your feelings.

Like how I taught you to love reading.

Like how I gave us the best puppies and taught us how important furry babies are.

Like how I love you spills from us in words, in touch, in actions.

Like how I taught you how important traditions are for building family and love and knowing what is coming and knowing how to make it special, even in the ordinary.

Like how I taught us to do happy hearts each Sunday.

So now, this is the next thing I will do for us. I cannot even pretend to say that I will not continue to fall apart at each and every single milestone. Of course I will. Watching you grow up does bring about a loss for me and I will forever lean on my framily for the support I will need. But, I swear to you, I will remember that it is my job to teach you that this is "stuff" and we all go through "stuff" and we all get through it. I will remember that although you are walking through your next chapter, you're always and forever the kids I love. I swear that I will remember that this is my honor that I get to watch you grow.

31
May

The magic of play

And I would sit in my home and do laundry and cleanup and live in my reality and get to watch my six-year-old play and create worlds and friends and whole conversations. It was as real to them as the laundry was to me...

Have you ever peaked in on a little one playing alone? Have you ever listened in on the full on conversations they have...all by themselves? Have you ever been cautious, knowing the second they spy you, it stops because they start laughing to themselves?

Have you ever stopped what you were doing and really listened to the whole world and people they create around them? How real it is to them? How boredom is not boring when you are this young and you have so much magic living right inside of you? How real this world is to them? How engrossed they become, how large this world is? Have you ever watched a child play?

Do you remember doing this too? Do you remember playing this way? I definitely do. I remember that little big world that I created, I remember the discussions, I remember feeling not alone. I remember doing it with my parents "around" but when I noticed them, I would feel differently. The world would shatter because their reality would set in. I remember playing school with real students sitting there, I remember assigning homework and doing math problems. I remember the wall I used in my pantry as a chalk board and I remember my basement when we moved being my whole world. I remember posts in my house being people, I remember dancing with them. I remember playing.

Have you ever watched this world be built from the ground up? Have you ever seen how intricate it becomes, how legos become whole worlds, amusement parks, stadiums, war zones, homes, communities? I have a little one building communities like crazy in here. Have you ever watched a child play?

Have you listened to the families they create? Have you listened to how they set up different rooms in their homes and cradle their babies and talk about having to go to work and the pets they have? I have a little one creating her dream family, from the ground up, all the things she wants, baby in hand, career ready to go, dinner with those she loves. I have a little one creating a family. Have you ever watched a child play?

I remember how young it started, how my 2 year old would spend his days creating and building and constructing and conversing. I remember working close by and whenever I was able to take just one little breath, I would hear this tiny voice in the room next to my office, I would hear his imagination and all he was up to. I would smile so hard tears would spring to my eyes. Here he is at 8, doing the exact same.

I remember a little girl, my one and only, for three incredible years. I would watch her take care of her toys, I would watch her dress up and make and become so involved in the world she was creating. Here she is at 11, and that little girl is still there. The little girl that still wants to play with a doll and have a make-believe moment because it's not make-believe, it's her reality. Even living in the in-between has not robbed her of this joy.

Have you seen magic unfold in front of you? Have you seen the magic of play take over? Have you ever watched a child play?

29
May

Five Minute Friday - born

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 born.

Go.

The night before you were born, I knew you were coming. It was scheduled and I sat on the edge of my bed, looking at my packed suitcase and wondering and wondering about you.

I knew I would love you, I already did. I knew we would make room for you, we already did. I knew she would fall in love with not only you, but her brand new role, she already did. I knew it would be tough, it already was. I knew it would be easy, it already was. I knew it would be good, it already was.

There were a few moments when you had some people thinking you would come a little sooner, but I knew you were going to be born on May 30th, I knew we would hang on. I knew I was not sharing you with the world until that day arrived, I knew I would keep to keep you close, a little while longer.

The night before you were born, I held you on the inside of my body, I talked to you, I felt you push into my hand and I told you a little about the family you were about to be a very big part of. The night before you were born, I held you tightly, knowing this would be my last night with two heartbeats, and your mamma cried.

On the night before you were born, I knew it was time. It was time to put a huge and incredible chapter in my life behind me. A chapter I had no idea I wanted to write and a chapter I loved every word of. I would never be the "expecting mom" again. I would never again wonder, I would never again sit on the edge of my bed and hold anyone this way.

Here we are, eight years later, on the day before your 8th birthday. Monkey, can you promise me you won't get older tomorrow...I'll try mom.

Some things will never ever change.

Stop.

25
May

Five chapters

Autobiography in Five Chapters
1) I walk down the street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I fall in.
I am lost… I am hopeless.
It isn’t my fault.
It takes forever to find a way out.
2) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don’t see it.
I fall in again.
I can’t believe I’m in the same place.
But it isn’t my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.
3) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there
I still fall in it… it’s a habit.
My eyes are open.
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.
4) I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.
5) I walk down another street.
-- Portia Nelson

Chapter one. I lived in chapter one for at least two decades. It felt comfortable, familiar, it felt a little homey. It was awful, the rage and anger and tears were plentiful. The hole was enormous and nothing was my fault ever. It felt really good to be the victim and I needed to be the victim. I could not have healed if I didn't feel like it was happening to me. Because when you are a child, it is happening to you. You are a victim of your surroundings. You are a product of what has happened. I didn't move on to chapter two because I grew strong or smart, I just grew tired.

I then lived in chapter two for several years. Pretending it wasn't there, everything was fine, being triggered by everything, all the time, never ever my fault. I lived there not because of comfort, but out of fear. I again needed to feel as though this wasn't my fault, I landed here but only when I was pushed. I didn't leave chapter two because I was brave, I turned the page because I finally saw what was in front of me.

I lived in chapter three for a few more years. I saw things, clearly. I saw that part of it was my fault, there were things I needed to take responsibility for. There were things I did wrong, it doesn't matter the situation. There were things I did wrong. And, there were things I needed to do. I needed to push towards. I am a product of my past, but I am also the choices I make today and the choices I want to make for tomorrow. I still fell down the hole, it just took me so much less time to get out. Not for any other reason than I was ready.

I stayed in chapter four for an even longer time, I am probably still there. I am a product of the good and bad of my past. I am loving, I am all in on love because of my past. I am a hard worker, my work ethic is undeniable, because of my past. I am loyal, I am fiercely loyal, all of my heart loyal, because of my past. I love and laugh often, because of my past. I love food, because of my past. I also see the bad and have decided to NOT allow the cycle to continue. I see it, I accept its pull, its presence, its undeniable presence. But, I continue to walk around it, I continue to not fall for it. I continue on my path. My life, my decisions. I get to write the pages from here on out.

I see chapter five, I see it around the corner, I just need to turn the page. I need to have the courage to turn the page and finish the book.

And I will, I will walk down another street, all in due time.

22
May

Five Minute Friday - forward

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 forward.

Go.

Each Friday, I plan, in detail, my next week. I look at my meetings/events scheduled, I prioritize my to do lists. I figure out what I have to do and when. And each week, as I look forward, I keep deleting all of the "things" we had planned since they no longer are happening.

In the beginning of the year, I had planned to slow down and take things easier. I had planned to find a new rhythm and slow dance. I had planned for things to be calm and bright. Fast forward to March of 2020 and the world stopped spinning. At first, it was the exact pause I needed and maybe it still is. But as it continues to fly forward, I don't see an end and I don't see a solution and I don't see how this will ever change. I only see the pause and isolation.

I, and my family, have been very fortunate. It is a privilege that it has taken me this long for it to feel heavy. I am privileged, no question about it. I am healthy, I am strong, we are both working, my brand new leap of faith business is still going. So, with knowing this all comes from a place of privilege, the weight is starting to feel a little heavy. I don't know if I can keep going and going without an end and without connection. So, today, I say a little please to the universe, a quiet little prayer. I would like to start looking forward once again and having something to look forward to.

18
May

When it snows in May

When we take a little walk downtown, there is plenty of parking. The stores are so quiet, there are chairs up on tables and signs up all over the place about how "we're closed" due to COVID and keeping customers and employees safe.

There is no more traffic, the roads are wide open and no one is in a hurry, there is no where to go. I've gotten really used to doing just the speed limit because, what's the rush now?

Restaurants that were once filled with long wait times, are empty, closed, some are closing forever. Our little town that is always full of so much life is the quietest I have ever seen, it's too quiet.

Going out for a coffee, alone in the car for 10 minutes is like heaven. Honest to goodness heaven. It's the only alone time there is. I shower with questions constantly being thrown at me, I go to my room just to have a door bust open. I do yoga with someone chattering at me. I run with kids biking next to me. I take walks with my daughter. I'm woken up to be asked if they are allowed to be awake. No one is tired, just mamma. I hear mom 13,000 times a minute. The only quiet is during homework time when we're all working together.

And then, the schools closed for the remainder of the year, the day was really hard. The following weekend, it snowed, in May, and I thought...there isn't much more I can take. It's all starting to feel like too much, there is no such thing as normal anymore. Everything just feels off.

May 15th right before dinner, a tornado hit our town. A tornado, two weeks after it snowed, three weeks after the schools closed down, one month into murder hornets, two months into a pandemic. The fear from my children was physical, the screams were desperate, the tears were making their shirts wet. We're all fine, the house is fine, everything is fine, even though nothing is fine.

The next day, we all put our lawns back together as best we could. Trees were taken down, fires were started, assessments of damage were made. Some homes were badly injured, ours looked like a bad storm flew through. I struggled because I didn't sleep at all, the anxiety was a bit much and I hit my limit. I brought friends coffee because they didn't have power and I felt better. I took a really long run with my little man riding his bike next to me and I felt even better. I went for a long walk with a part of my squad, yes , we were socially distant, yes, we wore masks, and I felt even better. I had a zoom call with my college crew and I felt even better.

I drove home from my walk and noticed that even though no one had anywhere to go, our little town still exploded. The weather drove people out to walk, to hike the park, to walk the streets. You can tell they are desperate, they want people, they want movement, they want connection, they want something to do and somewhere to go.

I came home to my coach all cleaned up, ready to grill pizza. Any other night, we would have had framily over. We would have picked a house, started a fire, had too much to drink together, and it all would have made sense. But still, it was good to smooch my person, hug my kids, feel a little sunburned from all my time outside. See how tired my puppy was from the long walk and hop on another lit screen and see my girls and laugh really hard together.

We go up and down. This was the break I needed, maybe the break we all needed. We all needed our weekends back from all the things we are committed to and now it feels like most days are a weekend. I wanted peace and quiet. I wanted a year of calm and bright and I did get a lot of what I needed, wanted. The rest, the naps, the sleep, the food and eating that I needed to do. The letting go of early mornings, the letting go. The family time I needed. Then, there are days that I can't believe my kids will be home for 6 solid months. That there are no sports, that all concerts are canceled. Careers are frozen. Cities are silent, but bursting. Musicians are hosting concerts on TV to keep spirits up. Graduations are canceled, people that have worked so hard for so long, have no end to their years of dedication. That going to the doctor's office is a really big deal. Going grocery shopping is scary and treasured time. What life is this? There are days that I am so happy, days that I feel really ok. Days that I can't sleep and I'm so worried. This year is just all over the place. It's all over the place and an actual show. You can't make this stuff up anymore, it snowed in May.

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