​New normal. 

For some reason, I hate that term. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t like labeling something as normal vs. abnormal. It feels too judgmental.

Maybe it’s because I don’t like change. Change is always hard and uncomfortable. 

But, this is my life now - the new normal. Whether I like it or not.

After over a year of remote and hybrid learning where my children have been at home at least 3 school days each week, my children have returned to full time in person schooling. 

After over a year of working primarily from home, my husband has returned to being in the office for most of his shifts.
The other day was our first day where I was the only one home.

After over a year of me working fully remote from home, I'm still here - seeing all my patients via telehealth and teaching all my classes over Zoom.

But, after 13 months of family togetherness, I was alone. 

The house was silent. 

No teacher’s voices could be heard on the computer through the doors of my children’s rooms. 

The house was silent. 

No cheesy manager jokes from my husband could be heard as he led a zoom meeting from our dining room table. 

The house was silent. 

No dog footsteps could be heard tip tapping on the hardwood floors as they wandered the house looking for anyone who was free and could give them some attention. They were snuggled all cozy in their crates, probably enjoying the quiet opportunities to nap.

The house was silent. 

No dirty dishes were found in the sink as remnants of quick snack breaks between my kids’ classes or between my husband’s meetings.

The house was silent. 

No one was there to pass me in the hallway.

The house was silent. 

No one needed my help with getting into a Google Classroom meet. 

The house was silent. 

No one was there at my kitchen island eating their lunch while I poured myself another cup of tea. 

The house was silent.

Silence recharges me. Silence refuels me. Silence calms me. 

But this silence was different. 

The house was silent and I realized just how lucky my family had been for the past year. 

We stayed healthy and we enjoyed the forced togetherness.

The house was silent and I felt a deep gratitude for the memories we had made as a family over the past year. 

We adapted and grew and were able to be a part of each other’s lives in ways that never would have been possible without a pandemic. 

The house was silent. 

And I missed the loudness.

To the mama who didn’t get to have a normal childhood,

I see you.

​I see your daily pain as you move through the journey of parenthood, realizing over and over again just how much you were mistreated and abused by your own caregivers.

Your heart breaks almost daily for all the things you missed or had taken away from you during what was supposed to be your childhood.

YOU NEED TO HEAR THIS:

You didn’t deserve any of the abuse, neglect, and mistreatment that happened to you.

None of it.

It was the job of your caregivers to keep you safe, make you feel loved, and allow you to be a child.

They failed you.

You didn’t fail.

None of it was your fault.

You need to believe this - in your core.

And now look at you - making the decision every day that the cycle of abuse will stop with you.

Every day you make the active choice to give your children and yourself a better life.

Each time you tell your children that you love them so they don’t go to sleep at night wondering what they have to do to earn your love - you continue to break the cycle.

Each time your child feels safe coming to you for advice after they have made a mistake instead of cowering in fear - you continue to break the cycle.

Each time you spend time with your children at their sporting events, extracurricular activities, or just snuggling on the sofa, reminding them that you not only love them but you LIKE them too - you continue to break the cycle.

Each time you apologize and take ownership for your mistakes as a parent and clarify that your child is not responsible for your emotional well-being - you continue to break the cycle.

Each time you set a boundary and protect your child from people that do not respect them or cannot be trusted - you continue to break the cycle.

Each time you seek support for yourself so that you can be a better version of yourself - you continue to break the cycle.

I see your efforts and I know that the work you are doing is hard.

You are tired.

You doubt yourself.

You fight daily to prevent those negative thoughts and messages from your own childhood from coming to the surface.

Keep going. Keep moving forward, building the life your children so deserve - the life you never got to have as a child.

But be sure to also take time to think about all the ways your children will never have to experience what you experienced.

Take time to be proud of the parent that you have chosen to be.

Your children are lucky to have you as their mama.

Remember that.

Love yourself just as fiercely as you love your children.

You deserve it.
​
You are worthy of love and compassion - especially from yourself.

Today my high schooler needed a ride to football practice.

There used to be a time not so long ago when I would have to arrange a ride for him with a mom of one of his friends, annoyingly verifying it at least three times with the mom, and then reminding my son what time he was getting picked up, what to bring, and to make sure he said thank you.

Today he arranged the ride himself with a friend, got himself ready, and went to practice.

I wasn’t needed anymore.

There used to be a time not so long ago when I would go to those practices, my camping chair and bag full of snacks regular staples in my trunk. The other parents and I would sit for 2 hours every day watching our boys’ struggles and admiring their growth.

Today he went to practice without parents and with coaches I’ve never personally met.

I wasn’t needed anymore.

There used to be a time not so long ago when I would roll my eyes and sigh loudly as I made my way through our house after a practice, helping stray socks find their way to the hamper and stinky shoulder pads to the drying rack.

Today those stinky pads got put where they belong, without me having to help.

I wasn’t needed anymore.

There used to be a time not so long ago when that same high schooler was a shy little boy, stepping onto the field for the first time - timid, lacking confidence, scared, and so very excited.
Today that little boy stepped onto the field for probably the 1,000th time - a young man, confident, brave, and so very excited to tackle the world on his own.

I wasn’t needed anymore.

There used to be a time not so long ago when this mama couldn’t imagine a time when she wasn’t needed.

Today that mama knows that she will always be needed in someway - maybe not for rides or picking up socks or support at practice - but surely for other ways.
​
A mother’s love will always be needed.

On Christmas Eve a 15 year tradition came to an end. It was the first Christmas Eve without an official believer in our house.

But, we still did all the typical Christmas things.

We still hid away all the presents.

We still talked about Santa coming to bring gifts.

We still made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, referred to as “Santa’s cookies” even if we make them in July.

We still waited until Christmas Eve to take the gifts from their hiding spaces and place them beneath the tree.

Much of this year was the same - but it was also very different. My youngest asked if he could watch us to see how we do it all.

He sat, wide eyed on the couch, as my husband and I worked like the amazing team we are - having done this for 15 years now.

Soon the questions started:
“How much did this all cost?”
“How long did it take you to wrap everything?”
“You really wrap everything in the stockings???”
“Is it hard to do all this?”
“How are you able to do this so fast?”

Then he helped me as I put out cookies and milk for Santa and, for the first time ever, our youngest got to enjoy the treats.

My heart ached through it all though. I miss those tiny versions of my boys as they would run outside to sprinkle reindeer food in the lawn, their voices squealing with delight.
I miss those days and there is a profound sadness in realizing that chapter of our family’s journey has ended.

But, this new chapter is truly special too.

This new Christmas is different. But, this new Christmas is still filled with joy, wonder, and love.

It’s still magical.

​ It’s still Christmas.

In a family of six COUSINS, my youngest was suddenly the only one other than the six-year- old who didn’t know the truth.

It was time for us to tell him.

We posed the question about whether or not he believed and he shot us both his infamous side-eye and flashed his double-dimpled grin. Clearly he already knew.

But, behind his mischievous smile was a hint of fear and sadness.
Originally published on Filter Free Parents. Click HERE for full article.

The first parent-teacher conferences of the year happened this week and man did I get schooled.
​
As a mother of a 15-year-old and a 12-year-old, I’ve been to more parent-teacher conferences than I can easily count.
But, as each one approaches, the part of myself that I consider a recovering perfectionist starts to creep to the surface.

​Originally published on Filter Free Parents. Click HERE for full article.

This morning I was struck with a deep sense of gratitude. As I meandered my way down the hallway in the early morning hours to wake my high schooler for the day, I smiled at the calmness that now fills my home. 


In a normal year, our mornings would be a complete frenzy of activity. Total chaos would rule our day from the moment the 5:00AM alarm on my phone rang until we all finally crawled into our beds at the end of the day. It would be a race against the clock as we scurried around the house each morning trying to get everything done in time for us to leave for the day. 

Originally published on Grown and Flown. Click HERE to read full article.

Picture it: You are at a sporting event. All around you, there are sounds of swearing, fans shouting insults at coaches, and people arguing with each other. The air is filled with tension. People are yelling things like:

“Are you kidding me?”
“Use your head!”
“What is WRONG with you?”
“What do you know? You shouldn’t even be an ump!”
“We don’t have all day — make a play!”
Just another day at any professional sporting event right?

Nope. 

This is another day at a youth sporting event. Any city. Any town. Any sport. Any age.

Originally published on Her View From Home. Click HERE to read full article.

Yesterday I got to relearn slopes and angles so I could effectively support my 9th grader in geometry. Then I got to develop a tracking system that would work for my 6th grader to help him better manage the sometimes too subtle details of his class assignments. Later I got to help with a story map and reviewing point of view vs. perspective. 


It is a luxury, for sure, to be able to spend this time with my children without having to worry about working at the exact same moment. In my younger days, I actually taught 6th grade math and study skills for middle schoolers. I loved my time as a teacher so this should be my jam. It’s not.

I love being their mom but I hate being their teacher.

​Originally published on Her View From Home. Click HERE to read full article.