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Someday life will be more than laundry and dishes and grocery pick-ups and practices. Someday life will be lazy mornings reading and lonely afternoons of reflection. Someday I will be as happy with my body as I was when I was four years old, running, jumping, splashing, smiling, and living life uninhibited. Someday my heart will break again. More than it has ever broken. And it will heal. Slowly and unintentionally. On its own schedule. Resuming a new shape and capacity. Without my direction. No need to brace for it - what does bracing do anyway? Someday I will have little versions of myself climbing onto my lap again. But they will also be the little versions of my original little versions. And I won't know what to do with all the love that trickles down from me, to my boys, to their tiny little replicates full of life and wonder. I will supervise less and sympathize more. I will be less rigid and more engaged. I won't do this on purpose. It will just happen. Someday my identity won't be wrapped in a stethoscope or initials behind my name. My healing touch will never leave, but my paycheck will. I will be sad. I will feel funny. And eventually I will wonder how I ever let such bureaucracy define me. Someday I will look at my partner across the table and wonder how we got through all the muck. I will forget most of the junk and remember the highlights. I will be proud of us and happy for us. And I will sit at the table with the family we built. Someday I will sit on a porch, hopefully on a lake. I will feel a cool breeze and hear the birds and the squirrels. I will think of Mary and Martha, both my grandmothers, and I will explode with nostalgia. The men we loved. The families we created. The mess we endured. I will thank Martha for my fire and Mary for my loyalty. I will dance with both of them in my kitchen, windows up, music on high, supper in the oven, conviction in my heart. Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work surrounding the prompt "someday": Your Someday Will Come by Lisa Crowder https://lisacrowder.substack.com/p/your-someday-will-come Make Someday Happen by Ashley Olivine https://www.ashleyolivine.com/make-someday-happen/ Are You Waiting on Someday? by Sharla Hallett https://sharlahallett.com/are-you-waiting-on-someday/ Simple Is Better – The “Some Day” that Doesn’t Ever Quite Happen by Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2023/07/01/simple-is-better-the-some-day-that-doesnt-ever-quite-happen/
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Bicycle lights, bicycle lights Riding with friends from the neighborhood after dark With the crisp spring air and the sounds of the night Getting that last lap in before bedtime My boys have those lights on their scooters and bikes And I wish they were around in my day But I recognize that feeling they give anyway It's a feeling we have all felt A Swagger; a JuJu A pep in our step and a smile from the rearview Remember being a kid? No worries, no stress No finances or relationships that need to be addressed I wish we, as adults, spent more time having fun and left more cleaning to wait more dishes undone If we all had bicycle lights and the feeling they give us We would dance more in the kitchen We would not be so serious We would tell those around us that we love them and that we need them We would sing and act silly Do you remember that freedom? Bicycle lights, bicycle lights Can I borrow you for a while? I need an hour of smiles and giggles I need the energy of a child I want the confidence of youth I ache for the ease of those years The innocence, the imagination Before all these doubts, hurts, and fears Let's go play in the neighborhood Until the street lights come on Let's soar on our bikes down a hill And remember where we came from We sold our van. A van I never wanted. A van I swore I would never drive (pre-kids that is). In preparation to complete the sale with its new owner, I searched every file, binder, drawer, and cabinet looking for the title. When did we buy this van? Oh yeah, 2012 when my middle son was 1 and his baby brother was 6 weeks from his debut. When did we pay it off? Oh yeah, late 2016 when I was diagnosed with an incurable autoimmune disease out of the blue. Where did I put this title??? I marched around the house the bulk of the day scouring every nook and cranny of file-space I have ever used. Since we once owned 3 houses, a fully operational lawn business, and we have 3 kids... there's a LOT of filing that goes on around here. Especially for 2 Gen-X parents who are a little more analog than digital. A few stressful hours later, the tag office informs us that Honda never even sent us the title. I'm not sure about all the details, but we should receive our updated title next week so that we can complete the sale. I'm sure we must have missed something on our end, but again: 3 kids, 3 houses, me being sick with a rare disease, and husband returning to the airline industry after selling his lawn business... we had a few things going on at that time in our lives. Back to the van, though. I noticed my body and my breathing as I was searching for that title. I was frustrated and self-loathing for a while figuring I must have misplaced this golden ticket we needed today (buyer was on his way to our house), but I was also something else. I was sad. A tiny little part of me didn't want to find the title. I was about to hand over the keys to a vehicle I never wanted that carried the life I always dreamed of... That van survived infant carriers and booster seats. My oldest son's middle school football era and me coaching my middle son in my beloved soccer. It got us home from the beach and the lake too many times to count. It started this crazy baseball journey that now rules our weekends. It took me to see loved ones that are no longer here. Today, in my search for that precious piece of paper, I found the boys' old school pictures, artwork, and growth charts. I found old debts we had long forgotten and remembered old arguments we have now outgrown. I thought of all the DVD's I rented from the Dollar General Redbox that literally saved my life (I owe a post to my "rides to the Redbox" for sure). I remembered each time one of the boys got carsick (sorry New Owners) and each time I filled that trunk with groceries. I remember being 30 and divorced and wanting to be a mother more than anything in this world. I remember spending holidays alone and thinking my ship had sailed. So I sit here typing these words to you, my friends. Let us not overlook what has brought us where we are today. The stops we have made. The wrong turns and the right ones. I am handing over the keys to an era of my life I could have never imagined. A life so full I could not hold it some days. Here's to velcro sneakers and sippy cups. Frozen on the DVD player and 3 boys in my backseat. Godspeed. I recently polled my readers and IG followers as to what they were planning to do the first weekend after New Year's. 90% responded with "declutter and organize." Research has shown that there are 3 times of year when we naturally hum with purging and sorting energy. Those times are at the beginning of a new calendar year, when spring arrives, and when school starts. Even if we are not students or teachers, we buzz off the energy of those who are and we naturally want to purge and sort in August or September. While I know most of us have the "want to" to declutter, the question then becomes "but how?" - how do we transfer that energy and desire into action?
I have a few other tips for harnessing your purging and sorting energy:
I hope this motivates you to start purging at least one corner of your home. One closet. One drawer. One pile. It feels SO GOOD to have less "stuff" to manage and maintain. The older I get, the less I want to corral! Be sure to follow me on TikTok, Instagram, or Facebook! I love interacting with my readers! Legos and Laundry. These have been in my living room and dining room for over 10 years now. Should legos be in the rooms where we eat or relax? Should laundry? I say - YES. I have wanted to be a mother since I can remember. I babysat most of the kids in my neighborhood. Back when 12-year-olds could safely keep a few toddlers without any cell phones to reach any adults. Back when toddlers were thrilled to have said 12-year-old-neighbor-girl to make them pretend-school-worksheets and teach them how to hopscotch. Those were the days. Back to the legos and the laundry, there are many days where "I can't wait until this house is in order and everything is in its place and nobody's dirty socks or underwear will be on the floor!". But now that I've had one successfully leave the nest, I don't catch myself wincing over the legos or the laundry as much. See I know those cleats will be gone one day. I know that clarinet practice I hear from upstairs will be a distant memory. I know the messy rooms and the slammed doors and the "WHATTTTT?" of a teenager (with the required eye roll) will soon be in my rearview. And sometimes it catches my breath. Because I know. I know I will go from discussions around algebra to conversations about mortgages. From little league to stadiums. From junior Broadway productions to a college stage, perhaps. It's the perhaps that gets me too. See they were little, hard to believe but true. No bigger than my short arms could nuzzle. And I rocked them every night. And I picked out their nursery furniture and their first backpack and their first set of beliefs in many ways. But they're growing up. And they're SO smart. They can think for themselves and they challenge me, too. Make my brain stretch. Make my heart explode. I didn't know it could feel so good and so awful at the same time. Good that they're becoming themselves and that they're happy. Awful that I can't protect them and keep them from getting bumped and bruised like we all did. Now when I hang up that uniform or listen to the show soundtrack for the 100th time, I just smile. I let the legos pile up. I keep the clean clothes folded in the basket on the dining room table. And I hold my breath just a few more years and soak in every minute that I can get with them. How many more loads of laundry will I get? I think any mother would agree there is never enough. Written by one sappy mom to anyone else who feels this. Written when my boys are 10, 12, and 20. Written when I'm sandwiched between launching children and caring for aging parents. Written when the world seems automated and conversations seem rare. Written with my own youth creeping toward my rearview, with a coffee mug in my hand, and a knowing heart swollen in my chest. Godspeed. I love planning. Lots and lots of planning. I wish I could say I have time to do all the planning I want to do, but let's be honest, I waste time with Netflix and TikTok instead. That's okay, though. Sometimes that "wasting time" is our mind, body, and spirit recovering from all the daily input and stressors. But every year around this time, I go full-speed PLANNING MODE to prep for a new year. I have found it both helpful and invigorating to plan for a new year with new opportunities. Fresh starts are endless, necessary, and exciting. Please enjoy my top 10 planning hacks:
To further understand what each one of these hacks entails, let's dig a little deeper:
I hope this content gives you ideas and energy towards the art of planning as it affects your life. Some of my best days were planned. Some were not. And that's okay. Listen to your body and follow its lead. Your body knows what plans feel good for you. Godspeed. ☀️ Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work based on the prompt word PLAN: A New Plan, Again by Ashley Olivine https://www.ashleyolivine.com/a-new-plan-again/ A New Year Plan by Regina Marcazzo-Skarka https://reginamarcazzoskarka.com/2023/01/01/january-1-2023-a-new-year-plan/ Laundry. Dishes. Kids' practices and rehearsals. Groceries. Oh, and don't forget the HOA. Where is the romance, right? Forget romance, where is the deeper connection? When is the last time he asked me about my dreams or my fears? Umm, when is the last time I asked him about anything other than a scheduling conflict or a honey-do checklist. When is the last time we touched each other out of sheer desire and not some scheduled meeting of 2 busy adults? When is the last time we laughed or cried together? Am I the only one who feels alone more than I ever thought I would as a married person? Truth is, NO. I am not alone in feeling alone! I know this based on the countless conversations I have had with my patients over the years. Marital disconnection literally sends people into their primary care provider's office with symptoms of depression, fatigue, anxiety, and sometimes even physical symptoms (nausea, rapid heart rate, the list goes on). You know how our kids nag us on weekends "mom, mom, mom- watch me do this. Look at this. I want to show you this." Well, the truth is that we want the same thing from our spouse and they want it from us. We just don't know how to express that need. So we pout. We give the silent treatment. We build an invisible wall to avoid rejection. And it is killing us. So How DO We Fix It? One exercise my husband and I use is the FANOS method for couples communication. It only takes a few minutes each day and it has been paramount in improving our daily conversations and overall understanding of each other. The way it works is that one partner goes through their FANOS while the other listens and does not comment. No fixing or feedback. Just active listening. Then it's the other partner's turn. There is a 24 hour rule on comments. Very important to honor the 24 hour rule. The acronym is as follows:
Feelings: use an emotion word and tell your partner how you are feeling. Give a brief synopsis as to why you are feeling that way. Acknowledgements: use this time to thank your partner for something he or she has done or is doing. This can be something you appreciate about them or an actual task. Needs: Let your partner know something you need from them. THIS ONE is the one the other partner often wants to give feedback on or fix, BUT no commentary for 24 hours. Ownership: Use this time to admit your screwups. Take ownership for that snarky comment or huffy attitude. This one has been so good for us! Struggles / sobriety: Let your partner know about something you are working on either for yourself or in the relationship. This is so good for accountability and vulnerability in the relationship. Quick caveat: the Needs section is the stickiest one for us. We have found that we don't want to list the same need over and over and make the other partner feel inadequate, so sometimes we list a need outside of the relationship. That may not be the proper way to FANOS, but it has worked for us and kept some pressure off. I hope this technique gives you a starting point for your relationship to head towards communication and understanding. Feeling seen and heard is imperative for a relationship's success. Not every day is going to be perfect. There WILL be bumps in the road. But having a partner that you trust to show up for you and at least TRY to hold space for you as you process difficult emotions is what matters most. Godspeed. Kids are out of school (or will be soon). "Mom, I'm bored." "Mom, I wanna do something fun." "Mom, let's do something for Christmas." If you've ever had a weekend or a school's-out-day full of hungry kids following you around the house telling you they're bored over and over again, I feel you!!! I have one out of the house and 2 still following me around on those days. This is a family tradition we created, in part, to fill some time and make some memories. Now it has become something we all love and look forward to every year. I keep acrylic paints on hand and I stock up on wooden ornaments at the after-Christmas sales for the next years' contest. Paint pens also come in handy and skinny Sharpies for those finer details. We usually post our ornaments on social media and allow friends and family to vote. I think we've had different prizes over the years, but mostly it's for bragging rights. Can you believe my then-9-year-old did the Frog all by himself? Have you ever found yourself at an event, dinner, movie, party, etc and thought "why am I here? I had / have no desire to be here."? Have you ever been sweating in the 1 million degree summer heat doing some random and laborious task asking yourself WHY or HOW you signed up for this? Ever felt like you've wasted hours (or even an entire weekend) doing something that did not align with your goals or soul? THAT feeling is most often the result of people-pleasing and failure to set clear boundaries. Boundaries are tricky. They're difficult to set in the beginning but become rote after lots of practice. They require forethought and communication. Licensed counselors are often EXPERTS at explaining and helping you set boundaries, so please find a good local counselor if you identify this as an area of potential growth for yourself. One word of caution, however: once you get GOOD at setting boundaries, you will never look back. Tell your best friends and loved ones to say goodbye to the Doormat You and hello to the Assertive You. 🥰 In addition to the lists below (which are both excellent references), I want to give you my tips and insights around setting boundaries.
Every year my family decorates pumpkins together. We started with the regular pumpkin carving kits but soon realized we wanted to get more creative. This has become a family tradition that we all look forward to and enjoy. When movies and trampoline parks are $10-$20 a person, a few $6 pumpkins and some basic acrylic paints and brushes (that have lasted for years and years) is cheap in comparison. We play our bluetooth speaker in the background and just enjoy the family time together. It's these times that create a sense of security and family for my boys. They have told me as much. 🥰
I hope this gets you excited for FALL and FAMILY time. If you don't do this regularly (or if you do),
let me know how you like it after you try it! Comment below- I love hearing from my readers. 🥰
Other ideas for rainy days with kids include:
Please check out the work of my fellow hope*writers: 10 Things I Learned While Waiting On God by Sharla Hallett https://sharlahallett.com/10-things-i-learned-while-waiting-on-god/ The Ten Lepers - A Lesson in Thankfulness by Lisa Granger https://lisamarcelina.net/the-ten-lepers---a-lesson-in-thankfulness/ Never Travel Without These Ten Things by Jessica Weaver www.rootedunrooted.com/blog/never-travel-without-these-ten-things 10 Ways to Turn Things Around by Ashley Olivine https://www.ashleyolivine.com/how-to-turn-things-around/ When Emotional or Mental Pain Is a 10 by Dianne Vielhuber https://simplewordsoffaith.com/2022/09/01/when-emotional-or-mental-pain-is-a-10/ Isn't it crazy how people who were once part of your daily existence can just fade away? We can literally spend 40+ hours per week with another human (lots of humans in most cases) for YEARS or DECADES and with one twist of fate, all of that shared time and history can seem to float away. Forgotten? Surely not. Out of sight, out of mind? In this fast paced world, probably. No bandwidth to maintain a "long-distance" relationship when that relationship partner no longer parks in your shared parking lot? Maybe. I am not sure though. Family members can live out of town or out of state and we keep up with them, don't we? Or do we? Do we actually put the effort in to maintain relationships these days? Is all of our time spent "liking" and "commenting" on strangers from across the globe? I'm the first to admit I spend more time singing duets with random strangers on Smule than I do communicating with my out-of-state family members. Does that mean I don't care about my extended family? One could argue that our online friends are more organic than say, those we happen to share DNA or an office with... I can see that point. But, what about shared history? The office mate and the DNA-sharer have way more memories with me than the Randoms I have something-in-common-with online. But is it quantity of memories or quality? Just because we both attended a work cookout or a family wedding- does that mean more than shared interests and values with someone who doesn't "have to" spend time with us? Ever had someone in your life for just a season? The season ended for whatever reason: timing, location, circumstance. You and the other person knew it was a season, so you felt some closure. If you ever see that person again, awesome, what a pleasant surprise. If you don't, no worries, all is well. Perhaps we should all view each relationship we have as seasonal. Temporary. An at-will partnership. It can end at any time. That way when our phone doesn't ding or our mailbox remains empty, we are not disappointed. We will know and understand that these are just the ways of 2022. No one attaches. Nothing sticks. After all, there are millions of other shiny dots on the palm-sized demon calling each of our names. Faces we may never see in person. Voices we may never hear in real-time. Skin we may never touch. Meals we may never share. But let us not forget, those "relationships" end too! Accounts are hacked or closed. Real Life occasionally happens to our online friends as well and they may not be available to us. I guess I just get sad when I think about today's world for my kids. How do they know what's real and what's not when it comes to friendship (or even family)? There used to be something to be said for shared zip codes and shared uniforms. Quantity of memories somehow added up to some quality of memories. Now it's all a game of chance. Some people stick with us and most don't. Loyalty? Loyalty seems to happen more for brands than it does for us as individuals. And these are the rambling thoughts of a Midlife GenX woman raising sons ranging from pre-puberty to engaged. I want my kids to call and check on me when I am old. I want them to have friends that would come help them in the middle of the night. And today's ways of noncommittal BS (even amongst us grown folk) have me worried. What are we modeling for these kids? One day at a time. Godspeed. I have been packing for the beach for over 20 years now. I certainly was not as pack-savvy my first 5-10 trips as I am now. These are my BEST TIPS for beach packing if you are driving to the beach.
see list of supplies I keep year-round in my cabin / beach box ⬆️⬆️⬆️ Beach Food / Condo List:
Beach clothes / other necessities list:
What goes in our cooler(s) for the ride to the beach:
What we buy once we are there:
I'm typing this from Orange Beach.
I hope you found these lists inclusive and helpful. May all your beach trips be smooth sailing. 🏖 Godspeed. It's summer. In Georgia. So it's HOT. And one thing I'm learning about these long, hot days is that being inside in the cool AC with a fan whirring in the background and nature showing off outside my window gives me both energy and rest simultaneously. Yes, the kids are out of school. Yes, there are lots of "mom, I'm bored" whines followed almost immediately by "mom, I'm hungry." But there is something about summer that makes us all kids again, isn't there? We stay up later than we should. We eat popcorn for dinner if we want to eat popcorn for dinner. We "don't have any homework" and most of us "don't have practice" and a messy house is expected with kids out of school. Pools call our names and floating counts as exercise. Ice cream outings beckon us to sidewalks in small towns. A live band on a starlit night with a warm breeze gives me enough wattage to survive this Georgia heat and sink into my sheets at night both tired and invigorated. We talk to our neighbors more. The same ones we see all year walking their dogs. But it's summer. And summer gives us permission to interact even in this lonely digital world. Movies are cast on campers and garage doors. Glow sticks compete with fireflies and fireworks happen a few times each summer- all over the world. Smores become dessert and even church seems more fun in the summer. God must be showing off a little more with these summer rules and nature's beauty on display. Books are suddenly important to moms and sometimes even dads. And not books for the kids, books for US. We suddenly want to read... by the pool, at the lake, on the beach. Clothing is thinner and shorter so even laundry is less cruel and mundane. Work is necessary for most of us, but even WORK in the summer is better. Frankly we are all in a better mood. So I ask you to sit for a minute or two and consider all the things you LOVE about summer. There is so much going on in the world this June of 2022, that I chose to focus on any summer, all summers, just summer for my reflection post. Life has been heavy, but I need light. We head to the beach in a few weeks and my children's' excitement is like a drug. They giggle and ramble on about all the things we will do and how fun it will be. And I join in! Because I was 10 years old one time, without a bank account or work deadline or relationship issue to worry about. I was 10 years old. Out of school. Staying up late. And catching fireflies after I rode my bike and jumped in the pool with my friends. Allow yourself to be 10 years old today. The world needs that right now. Godspeed. After writing School Colors as I processed the Uvalde tragedy, I kept feeling and seeing the word BRAVE creep into my mind and body. As with any tragedy, loss, or wonkiness we endure, I think people turn to comedy for some type of comfort or relief. Pandemic comedians, where you at? (yes I used improper grammar and I liked it)... Anywho, I've had a lot of ICKY after this most recent school shooting, and I have found myself SCROLLING more than usual- I guess as a form of searching for both relief and answers. 😞 Upon scrolling, I saw a meme of the 80's mustachioed dad tossing his bewildered 7 year old into the pool as his form of "swim lessons." Ha ha- so funny- so true (established 1976 right here), keep scrolling. Still smiling as my right thumb hovered over my phone, I felt a small nudge. Brave. Kids. Brave kids. Kids who are brave. Parents who allow kids to BE BRAVE. Now I'm NOT thinking or talking about Uvalde, but I'm thinking and talking about the kids I see and know. The ones in my house. The ones in my neighborhood. The ones on my son's team. The ones in my son's acting group. The ones in their classes. My cousins' kids. My friends' kids. MY KIDS. Last night I watched my youngest son do something SO BRAVE. It took so much courage to do what he did. After his brave act, I asked him how he felt. He had mixed emotions (because his efforts were great but not PERFECT) and he was exhausted. I explained to him that what I loved the most about his endeavor was the COURAGE he displayed to even attempt his feat. Good, bad, perfect, terrible, wonderful, awful, whatever... he DID IT! And he did not give up. And he did not waiver. He believed in himself and he followed through without the 2022 SAFETY NET of PARENTS and SOCIETY. But friends, are we the NET we think we are for these children? Are we catching them when they fall or are we blocking the ladder to get to the scary top? Are we so worried about their potential failure (and heaven forbid it being captured on social media) that we are keeping them from even DREAMING or BELIEVING or TRYING to reach for the stars? Are we modeling GOING FOR IT and TRYING NEW THINGS or are we waiting on the sidelines watching reels of strangers going for it? Did we "see it on TikTok" or did we actually try it ourselves? Are we letting them FAIL or are we making sure they SUCCEED at all costs? Are we celebrating the lessons learned or only the medals won? So I challenge you, Moms and Dads, Aunts and Uncles, Grannies and Nannies and Pappaws... talk to the children in your life about COURAGE and BRAVERY. Discuss success and failure at the supper table. On the way to the "brave feat" last night, that same son asked me if some celebrity was a millionaire. My response: "I'm sure he is, but that doesn't mean he's happy. Ask that celebrity what matters to him, what he stands for, who he has helped in his life - that's a better question." Give your dear ones a little wiggle room to make mistakes. Let them have an original thought and better yet, AN OPINION. Encourage them when they are frustrated, but please do not fix it all for them. Allow them to clean up their own messes. If I have learned anything in the past few weeks, it is that my children and the children in this world are BRAVE SOULS, braver than we will ever imagine. Let us unlock their courage and model resiliency after "failure." Put your phone down. Talk to the kids in your life. Ask them what courage means to them. SHOW THEM how to be brave. Godspeed. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am still not okay after what happened in Uvalde, Texas. I am okay with not being okay. This post is not meant to belittle those events in any way. I'm watching my children as they move through this. I'm learning from them how to be brave. Honors Day comes every May and with it comes some pain Pain for those who watch from afar Pain for those who were never the star and sometimes, a feeling unnamed This feeling of reeling from dealing with life and school and kids and daily strife There's work and marriage and laundry and dishes and unfulfilled goals, broken promises, forgotten wishes And all of a sudden we are all 16 again full of both awkwardness & confidence with our acne and our hormones watching the principal hold the microphone And we wait for our names to be called 1 2 3 and the teacher didn't call it they didn't pick me Pick me or my kid? What's going on in my head? Am I rejected for their rejection? Is this about me instead? Oh Honors Day, dread Honors Day I love you when you call my name I hate you when forget about me Wasn't I good enough? Don't you see? The joke is on us friends for life is its own Honors Day Your boss, your friend group they always pick who they want to stay We want to belong we want to matter to feel seen and heard But what I have just realized What I have finally learned Is that I throw my own Honors Day EVERY DAY for myself for my kids, for my spouse WE are the trophy, WE are the shelf I won plenty of ribbons and plaques and awards But they're somewhere in a box And now my family is my sword to keep fighting this fight we call life every day so when your lovely looks up to you disappointed from Honors Day just tell them, no SHOW them, about the true trophies in life Like kindness and empathy and perseverance. Hold that baby tight. Look right in their eyes and tell them YOU are their shelf. And no matter how good someone measures them to be, they are HELD. Don't push your sweet lovelies to climb to the top. Let them be who they will be. Let them stop if they need to stop. Honors Day comes every May and with it comes some pain just let it go on and do its thing. Don't let it determine the gain. Brought to you by a trophy-winning, plaque-possessing, still-trying-to-figure-it-out 16 year old stuck in a midlife body. Honors Day is just another day. Your sweet babies are the TROPHY. Please be a kind and loving SHELF. Godspeed. How are you? Good, how are you? Fine, today was busy. Yeah, me too. Ready for some downtime. Did you go by the drugstore? I did (even though he could have). Did you run the dishwasher? I did (even though she could have). What's going on this weekend? A Saturday-Sunday tournament and I really need to get some of my charts done. (He didn't ask if I wanted to do anything as a couple. I guess he doesn't care). (She is always working- she never even mentioned anything I might want or need). Okay- sounds good. Sound familiar? We both have needs, but we are not making them known. We both have resentment, but we speak like polite coworkers. The conversations are transactional and not RELATIONAL. We are co-parenting and room-mating - but where is the love? Unfortunately, as the years passed and the kids got older, we seemed to have fewer transactional conversations. Homework wasn't AS MUCH of a chore. Snacks were often handled by the kids independently. Routines were established and roles were pretty defined (though unspoken) in the home. In ways, this meant less bickering and smoother mornings and evenings, but were we connected? OR were we just 2 lonely adults passing in the hallway - each longing for a real connection but not knowing where to start? We have both been married before, so we both know the pain of divorce. We vowed to make this marriage work, but was it working? Was it tolerable or was it phenomenal? I have been going to THE BEST counselor on the planet for about 18 months now, and I asked her for a few suggestions. Regardless of each person's love language, she made clear that time and non-sexual touch are both very necessary for meaningful connection. Since I work days and my husband works nights, we don't have a TON of time together - and very rarely is it without children. We both commute so that takes away even more of our precious time. The kids are busy year-round it seems, so where was I supposed to carve out both TIME and TOUCH? I decided that we needed ONE HOUR per day to talk, sit close to each other, and just be together. I named it the POWER HOUR and I told the kids this was Mom and Dad's time together and it should not be interrupted unless there is an emergency. They heard "screen time" and were all for it. I decided kids' screen time is worth the investment in our marriage. I claimed 7-8 pm to be our ONE HOUR per day to sit on the couch together - touching!- to watch TV, chat, whatever. I am not gonna lie, 9 times out of 10 my feet and legs are in his lap and he's using my massage gun on my calves while I scratch his non-massage-gun-holding arm and hand. He likes scratches, I like massages. The point is, though, that we are touching and there is no pressure surrounding the touch. All adults everywhere know what I mean by that. He has to leave for work by 8 pm, so once he leaves I call the kids back into the living room and we finish out our family time before bed. If he's off that night then we may continue past 8 pm. The rules are simple: he needs to be showered and ready for work by 7 not 8 so I can have that hour with him. I need to ignore work and personal messages during that precious hour so that I can give him my undivided attention. Sometimes there is a late practice or rehearsal and our POWER HOUR is skipped or delayed, but it is a daily priority now. We both look forward to that time together, and the kids are still alive. It is so much easier to hash out a BIG issue when you are sitting next to your spouse touching them instead of over the phone or (worse) text. If you are both relaxed and physically touching each other, it is harder to become defensive or to go into attack mode. A quick squeeze of the arm or hand can reassure your partner that you are, in fact, on the same team. Close eye contact can remind your spouse that you love them and that you each have the same end goals. You may read this and be thanking the heavens that you've never felt disconnected from your spouse. Having worked with married patients for years, I would venture to guess you'd be in the minority. I know most of us have felt like our marriages have become mundane or on auto-pilot at various times. It doesn't necessarily take a marriage retreat or some crazy new "trick" to get your marriage back on track. For us, it just took a shared couch, one hour per day, and our hands. It took putting the phone down. It took managing our time to preserve that one hour per day. It took biting our tongues when we wanted to be snappy and waiting until we were together to have that hard conversation.
My life isn't perfect nor is my marriage. My house isn't perfect. My kids are not perfect. I am far from perfect. But, I am trying. He is trying. We are trying. Effort is attractive and kindness matters. Godspeed. The following post is one mom's experience with autism. One family's experience. This author and I both understand that autism exists on a spectrum and this is just one example of the spectrum. What do I want you to know about autism? Since I am neuro-typical, I can only give you a mother’s perspective. So, last night, I asked my 15-year-old with autism what they want people to understand about autism. After a moment’s thought, they had two things to tell others. First, in their typical blunt manner, C said, “Autism is a spectrum, it doesn’t always look like a little 6-year-old boy who can’t control himself.” I thought this was a great point. Our autism story isn’t typical. My kid, born in a female body, wasn’t diagnosed until last year, when they were 14. (For the purposes of this post, I’m using gender neutral pronouns and the letter C for their name.) They’ve struggled with a number of things for years: reading was hard, paying attention in school was a disaster, building and maintaining relationships with “normal” peers was super challenging. The autism diagnosis was a sigh of relief for all of us. Finally, we had a name that encompassed a wide variety of things: social skills that were getting harder to manage in middle school, sensory issues that seemed to becoming more intense, and a hyper-fixation on a growing, rotating range of topics. Autism was not a negative diagnosis for us. It was an answer and in it, I found hope. It took years for me to start thinking about autism for my kid. To me, autism looked like one of two things: it was either the young boy whose autism made them unpredictable, a person with special needs, or it was the savant, again a boy, who could tell you everything you needed to know about his particular fascination. In fact, it was C who came to me and said, “Mom, I think I have autism.” In the next breath and typical fashion, “I’ve been doing some research.” My sweet kid, from the moment they were born, was never typical. They were happy and silly and the third born. They could be laughing one minute and asleep on your lap the next. C was cuddly and tender one moment, but at the next moment, trying some stunt that would make a mom’s heart stutter with nerves. They could listen to me read to them for long hours or play a silly made up game all afternoon, but could never concentrate long enough to finish math problems. We got an ADHD diagnosis when C was quite young. (That’s another thing C would want you to know: often Autism is misdiagnosed in females as ADHD because Autism presents differently in girls and practitioners don’t think females have autism.) And in that moment, an ADHD diagnosis was a tool—it gave our family a framework for understanding that our kid’s brain worked differently. We could accommodate their learning and home life to best suit their needs. C is smart, funny, talented, creative, and silly. Their diagnosis forced me, as a mom, to reframe the negative lens through which this is seen. I wasn’t going to let them think their ADHD was an affliction. Instead, ADHD was their superpower—they saw the world differently than I did. It’s just that the world isn’t really made for kids whose brains aren’t like everyone else’s. Everything fell apart in Middle School. Well, Middle school and a pandemic and online learning and adolescence. It was the perfect storm of horrible-ness. It has been a rocky couple of years for my kid (and me) as we’ve discovered the autism diagnosis and struggled mightily with mental health. (One more thing C would say, because they think of things at random times unrelated to anything else, is that because autism is diagnosed so late in girls, most girls with autism struggle with depression, anxiety and a sense of “who am I?” and “why can’t I be like everyone else?” An earlier diagnosis could help relieve some of that angst.) This is the first time I’ve ever put this story down in words. It feels rather momentous to do so. Yet, when I tell people in my orbit that C has autism, some are surprised, but for most, who know us, it just rolls off their back. “Huh,” they say and move on to something else. Because for them, as well as us, it’s just a way to define the way my kid is, the way they move and think and interact with the world. And someday, this culture will understand what a gift a brain like that is. I am convinced that someday C is going to change the world. Oh, and C wants everyone to know something else about autism: “Mom, make sure you say that moms who have kids with autism aren’t superheroes. They’re just moms. Like you.” C makes me laugh so hard I can’t breathe. They will share their saved memes with me for 30 minutes just to get some parental attention and then later lock themselves in their room and not want to talk to anyone. They challenge the way I think and expand my view of what success looks like in the world and teach me a gazillion things I never thought I would have to know. While I wish the world was an easier place for my sweet one, I would never, in a million years, change this part of who they are. And that is what I want you to know about autism. Sammy Beuker is a wife, mom, Youth Worker, friend, and writer who lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan. When she isn’t managing her complicated family life, she works with teenagers at her local church. You can find her and her newsletter at sammybeuker.com where you can follow along on her journey to publication or on IG @sammyanne_b where she posts about her life, writing, books, food, family, faith and her golden retriever, Monty. Thank you Sammy (and C!!!) for sharing your words with my readers. Thank you for having the courage to tell your story. This touched me! ❤️ -Amy at Taylored Intent If you are a mother, you know the feeling. You're at work instead of field day. You're at one child's band performance while the other child has an academic bowl meet. You missed that baseball practice out of sheer exhaustion and that's the one where he hit it over the fence. "Mom, can you pick me up car rider? Can you check me out early like all my friends? When are you going to be off work again? Mom, why are you on your laptop so much? Mom, are you listening?" Some of those innocent but real questions can cut me like a knife, leaving me gutted and riddled with GUILT. Mom Guilt. It's a thing. And I think we should talk about it. AND we certainly do not help ourselves as a gender or a community. Not only do our KIDS make us feel guilty, our fellow moms can inadvertently or purposefully trigger shame and guilt at any given moment. Pam made homemade Christmas cookies for the entire class while we can barely pack lunches each day. Trisha made Halloween goodie bags with a punny handmade tag using her Cricut. Allison sewed personalized pencil pouches for the entire third grade while we are struggling to sign each kid's agenda every night. Then there's social media. Be sure to only buy non-GMO Organic foods. Is your car seat in the top 3 for safety? How often is your child brushing their teeth? Gluten is the devil. ADHD is real - oh wait, no it's not - you're just a lazy parent. Discipline your kids. Don't discipline them, let them find their own way. All babies should cry it out. Babies who cry it out have attachment issues and end up in therapy before age 30. Limit that screen time. Make sure they play outside, but you must watch them outside AND still get all your paid-work done and maintain a spotless house with home-cooked meals. Cloth diapers. Breastfeeding. Well, if you work then store-bought baby food might be okay- but only if you work now. And don't forget to recycle. Make it stop. When my boys were 2, 4, and 12, I walked into my CEO's office and said "I quit. Other women are raising my children and I quit." I didn't have another job lined up. Fortunately, I had some savings, but that was mainly because I was working SO HARD and barely had my head above water that I never had time to shop or vacation (ie spend money). I was justifying myself to a man (my CEO) whose wife did not work and I "knew" he was coming home to beautifully home-cooked meals, a clean house, freshly washed and ironed clothes, and a wife who probably still had energy for sex instead of one who was collapsing into bed every night. OR SO I THOUGHT. He kindly and calmly asked me to take a deep breath, sit down, and reconsider. What about part time or PRN (the medical term for as needed)? Did I want to lose my 6-7 years of tenure with the company? Did I always want to stay home or did I just need a break? Did I still enjoy being a nurse practitioner? The truth was, I did not know the answers to his questions. I had ZERO plans, which goes against my basic core (search "plan" on this blog and you'll quickly see I plan everything). I had not asked myself if I enjoyed my work because I barely knew what day it was. I felt pulled in every direction by every person in my life and I was dreaming of ways to "get off the treadmill." My husband's lawn business was booming, and I was quickly running out of bandwidth to help him with that as well as my other demands at home and work. I felt like I was choking, but I wasn't sure WHAT was choking me the most. I just knew in my SOUL that I had to make a change. I prayed about it. I took a few days to write it all out - not my feelings - I had not found a therapist yet. 👀 Who had time for therapy? BUT, I did somehow remember some of my high school and college skills for decision making and scribbled down ALL the reasons that quitting my job would make me happier overnight. In the end, I heeded my younger-than-me CEO's advice and worked PRN the first year and part-time the second year before returning full-time when my youngest started pre-K. Since I am not independently wealthy, I did eventually have to bring home some more bacon. So, then what happened? Was my life immediately better once I was home more? Did the MOM GUILT end over night? Was I making beautifully home-cooked meals, providing freshly washed and ironed clothes, maintaining a perfectly clean house, and bursting with energy for sex every night since I no longer "worked" every day? Turns out, the joke was on me. Not really a joke though my friends. It's the truth. My 4 year old was in Pre-K, but my 2 year old was suddenly out of daycare. My 12 year old was in honors classes in middle school and I found myself juggling potty training, phonics, and puberty. 3 P's that should never go together. 😜 I was waking almost as early as I had been when I commuted to my demanding NP job. I was feeding kids, washing clothes, and picking up toys all day it seemed. I was helping with homework instead of paying my babysitter to do that. I was making brownies for the PTO instead of money for retirement. I was just as tired, but it was more of a physical tired than a mental exhaustion. I was able to go to the gym regularly, and THAT was amazing. Our gym had childcare, so I would tell the boys if they wanted a "nice mommy and not a mean mommy" then we would be going to the gym, thank you very much. I DID have more downtime. I laughed regularly. For the first time in YEARS. I WAS able to take and pickup my kids from school. I had never before and never since had that luxury. The pure joy of seeing my boys' faces when I picked them up each day was worth the frequent melt-downs when I had to wake the 2 year old to go pick up the 4 year old. (How do we do these things and no one discusses it?) I learned lyrics to Disney movies instead of new treatment guidelines for diabetes. I never took the kids to school in my pajamas, but I suddenly realized why so many women did. I dropped ALL judgment of other mothers, because I was IN THE TRENCHES. I missed adult conversation. I missed feeling important- there - I said it. I lost my temper, and I raised my voice on occasion. Sadly... and this really does make me sad... I simply had not been around my babies enough HOURS of the day to really, really lose my patience with them. Not until I was home. Cutting coupons. Cutting Play-doh with tiny plastic scissors. And realizing that THIS was the real work. THIS was the important work. And so I sit here tonight with tears in my eyes.
One launched and doing well. One in middle school with puberty and insecurity competing for his time. One who still lets me hug him in front of his friends. And I don't know much more than I did 8 years ago when I walked in my boss's office overwhelmed and undone. I'm still in awe of and in love with those 3 beautiful minds and faces that call me Mom. But guilt? Will I wallow in guilt when I reflect over my presence in their lives? Maybe on a bad day. Maybe for a minute or two when I have a "mom fail." BUT I BEG OF YOU. OF ALL OF US. TO MAKE IT STOP. WE ARE WARRIORS IN OUR OWN RIGHT. WE KISS THE BOO-BOOS AND SCARE AWAY THE MONSTERS. WE QUIZ THE SIGHT WORDS AND TIE THE LACES. WE FEED THEM SOMETHING SEVERAL TIMES A DAY, AND WE ENSURE THEY ARE CLOTHED. WE ARE DOING THE BEST WE CAN. WE ARE FLAWED BUT PHENOMENAL. WE ARE IMPERFECT BUT IRREPLACEABLE. WE ARE MOTHERS. LET US UNITE AND HOLD SPACE FOR ONE ANOTHER. Godspeed. Photo Credit: Annie Spratt I was eager and he was young I was ready but he was numb I was happy and he was still I was hopeful but he was nil We had some laughs We had some smiles I read to him at night Does he remember those times? Then I had his brothers and he backed away or did I hedge him out? who could truly say? Come to me sweet boy not you, I mean him I mean all 3 of you silly I mean all of 3 of them It's different they all say he's not your blood Is it different? Aren't they all different? It's clouded. It's mud. I'm stuck and he's stuck. He looks and I look. We smile and they smile. I ache and he aches. We give and we take and sometimes it all breaks. His daddy can't get it. How could he? It's pointless. But I have to get it. And do it. And "go on, sis" Keep going. Keep numbing. I didn't know it. He didn't know it. We didn't know it but we did it and here we are and we are in it. So I look at him, a product as much of me as his dad. And I don't know what to do with it. I have these other 2 on my tab. The deductions, subtractions, additions?, conditions? It's all hard and whoever says that it isn't just ISN'T telling the truth dear. See I try to be real. He's "not mine" but I'm his and we're each other's and how does that feel? Would I change it? Some days I would. In a heartbeat. Not a second thought. But does he need me and do I need him and are we better because we came together when we were both broken and wounded and bleeding and cold Now we're mending and warmer and dare I say, a little old. Was it easy? It's been the hardest thing I've ever done. It can push 2 lovers apart quicker than any weapon, any gun, any bullet to the heart that's how some moments felt I have wept, I have wailed, I have screamed, I have knelt But one day his daddy may find out what it took to hold it ALL together and to remain unshook in the quake of dysfunction and abandonment and grief of a sweet little boy looking helplessly at me. She didn't stay, sweet baby, and I'm so sorry. I can't explain it. But I'm here and I'm not leaving, and I promise - I wouldn't change it. To every little boy or every little girl who had a mama or a daddy step up outside of the DNA lines. This is to you dear ones and to the strong adults who have rearranged their hearts and lives for you. We wouldn't change it. During the Summer of 2021, we took our rising 6th and 4th grader to Alabama Adventure Amusement Park in Birmingham, AL. We had watched a few YouTube reviews of the park and read what precautions they were taking for the pandemic. Since I am immunocompromised, we decided to rent a cabana for the entire day just for a little extra precaution. The price for the cabana was TOTALLY worth the money! We plan to go back and rent one again!
2 year anniversary of covid- what isn't in the news or really discussed publicly:
What is working?
What is not working?
What's next? What do I want more of?
Okay, so what does my list of "stuff" have to do with you? It's meant to be a guide or a tool for you to do your own quarterly review. What is working? What is not working? What do you want more of? Or less of? What have you learned in the last 3 months? I encourage you to take a few moments to yourself in one of those cracks of time we all barely get these days. Write it down. Type it in your phone notes. Say it out loud if you want to do that. But give it some THOUGHT. Consistent quarterly reviews or seasonal reflections can be life-giving and increase your productivity, contentment, and enthusiasm for what lies before you! Godspeed. ❤️ We love the Rec Room open concept with the Kitchen sink, full-size refrigerator, pantry (with microwave), table for 6. We now have a coffee pot and a toaster down there for guests or for us. When our oldest comes home from the Air Force, he often brings the air fryer down there for snacks. Husband is refinishing a 100 year old pool table that is parallel to the kitchen table. Husband did all the framing, wiring, plumbing, insulation, cabinet installation, lighting, and tiled the shower in the bathroom and the backsplash in the craft room. He installed the butcher block countertops in the kitchen area and in my craft room. We subbed out the HVAC, floors, drywall, paint, and trim.
The guest bedroom is huge and we now have a daybed and treadmill in there. I can even set up a full-size folding table for Christmas wrapping or other projects. It's perfect for a family with small children and our oldest loves the privacy when he comes home.
It can start any day, any time, anywhere. It can begin without warning. The overwhelm. It's like a net that covers me and I struggle to break free. Whenever I feel my heart start to race and my mind going in a million different directions, I know it’s time to do a brain dump. This often happens when I’m driving or in the shower or - even less convenient- when I put my head on the pillow at night. It is very tempting to let those thoughts go, but I have learned to capture them when I can. If I am in bed and the lights are off, I will grab my phone and voice text whatever is in my mind into the notes section of my phone. If there is a reminder I need to set, then I do that in the reminder app that comes standard on an iPhone. For those of you who are not tech savvy but you have an iPhone, you can use Siri to set a reminder or to create an event in your calendar. If lights are still on, I often jot it down on the notepad I keep next to my bed. I have the kind of brain that remembers better if my hand physically writes it down. This is why I still use a paper planner in 2022. If I am driving, I use Apple CarPlay and Siri to do what I mentioned above. I talk into the notes section of my phone or set reminders or create events... all hands-free with my steering wheel and my iPhone. I do not hate technology at all in this capacity. If I am in the shower, I could still use Siri, but she usually doesn’t understand me over the shower. In that situation, I just write down as much as I can remember as soon as I step out of the shower. Yes, I keep a notepad and pens in my top bathroom drawer. I am THAT person. Speaking of the shower, I try not to think of things. I try to use the shower for mindfulness. Mindfulness sounds fancy and woo-woo, but it’s really just being aware of your body in the moment. One example is thinking “I feel the hot water touch the back of my head. It is running down my back and onto the shower floor. I see the water pooling at my feet. I hear the water as it hits the tile. I taste the toothpaste minty and clean in my mouth. I smell the shampoo I am rubbing into my hair. I am thankful to be alive. Today is a blessing.” If I am practicing mindfulness, it is hard for my thoughts to race elsewhere. photo credit: www.atrapamente.com Another way I center myself is the butterfly tapping technique (linked below), deep breathing exercises (inhale through nose 4 seconds, hold 4 seconds, exhale through mouth 5 seconds). I have used both of these with my entire family when my kids have been off the rails and I needed to get us back on track mentally and emotionally. It takes practice, but it works! Once the kids realized they HAD to do it, they actually got into it. Now, let’s talk about how to actually do a brain dump effectively. I just did one since I was feeling overwhelmed with a busy week ahead, so feel free to reference the picture below. The most effective way I have brain dumped over the years is to separate my random thoughts into categories. I base the categories on grouping similar tasks:
The below picture is just a quick 2-3 minute brain dump. When I use the aforementioned categories, that type of brain dump is a 20-30 minute all-inclusive, major brain dump. Those are the BEST ways to brain dump and my body leans toward doing them on Sundays as I am planning for the week ahead. If I miss a Sunday, my brain and body know it. David Allen is famous for his Getting Things Done book and method. He touts that our brains are not meant to carry information and task lists, they are meant to THINK. That feels very true for me. If my brain is full of a to-do list, I am usually unable to write or create. Once I unload all those tasks I've been juggling on trays in my brain like an overworked restaurant server, I can actually let my brain "breathe" and creativity ensues. I also included a recent monthly meal plan for December 2021. Planning meals one month at a time has GREATLY reduced my overwhelm. I linked the way I actually meal plan down below. Once we have emptied our minds via the brain dump, now we can face the actual overwhelm. Sometimes the overwhelm was just that, carrying too many tasks and to-dos around in our minds. The mental overload of life in 2022. Sometimes it's emotional overwhelm. Grief. Sadness. Loneliness. Disappointment. Regret. Shame. Longing. Anger (which someone somewhere said that Anger is Fear Dressed Up and that resonates with me). Envy. Comparison. Greed. Sometimes it's physical overwhelm. Exhaustion. Physical pain. Illness. Injury. Anxiety or depression manifesting as physical symptoms (headaches, abdominal pain, joint or muscle aches). No matter what TYPE of overwhelm we are feeling, the spiral is the same. Sometimes sleep or a healthy meal can provide relief. Often silence and solitude are the answer for me. Just know that YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I am fighting the fight with you. Godspeed. 🎼 Cherish: My Love Letter to Music 🎼 I cherish the depth of a bass guitar It tickles my rib cage; it teases my heart My toes start tapping; my hips, they sway Whether I am sad or mad or lonely, it’s okay While the melody speaks to me, The harmony sees through me The drums set up space in my body and soul, Add brass and winds and keys, Now I am whole But the lyrics, the WORDS are what I cherish the most They pierce me, tattoo me, renew me, and expose Those tiny little pieces that we all try to hide The lyrics, the WORDS... they seep gently inside I cherish the music that built this life The staccato of pleasure, the minor chords of strife In my darkest hour or my coldest night I cherish my medicine of music; it shines the light The lights are on and the volume is up I cherish the music that yields me unstuck I am rhythm, I am blues, I am a crescendo of hues Oh music, sweet music, our wayward spirits be fused When I received the "CHERISH" writing prompt from my writer's group, I had a small chuckle. My small bloggers' writing group consists primarily of Christian writers, all of whom are women, and whose work I enjoy and admire. That said, I considered all the ways we can cherish God and our faith that these women would probably cover in their posts. My mind, however, went STRAIGHT to Kool & the Gang's song Cherish which was released in 1985 when I was 9 years old and full of hope. What can I say? Music is in my BONES. I wake up with it. I end my day with it. It is a constant soundtrack for any emotion I have ever had, and it seems to pour out of me without effort. I cannot imagine my life without music, and well... I just love it. Please support my fellow hope*writers by reading their work:
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