Before I became a parent, I assumed parenting was hard.

Then I had my first baby and quickly realized that parenting is way harder than I ever could have imagined.

When my baby became a toddler with his own big personality, an inhuman-like ability to slither like a snake out of my arms when he didn’t want to be carried, and a deep commitment to throwing massive tantrums, I realized that parenting had somehow become even more challenging.

Fast forward to today and I find myself facing the hardest phase yet of parenting: parenting a high schooler. With just a short bit of time so far under his belt as a high school freshman, I find myself more confused than ever when it comes to how to parent my son. ​​

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

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This is often a time of year when I feel so completely alive as a mother – clear in how I am valued and where I am needed. It also is a time of when I feel stressed, overwhelmed, and alone — the weight of a successful start to the new school year resting solely on my shoulders. 
Today that weight was lifted and I am equal parts relieved, heartbroken, and proud. 

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

This is our official first day of high school picture and it sums up our feelings on the school year perfectly.

No.

Nope.

Not this.

Stop.

Get out.

Go away.

We want normal.

Every parent, student, teacher, and administrator is having their patience, compassion, and ability to strike balance tested on a serious level these days.

After just one day of a hybrid model of remote and in-person learning, I’m exhausted as a parent.

I’ve spent all my hopefulness. I’ve used all my patience. I’ve done all I can do.

Our family gave today our best. Tonight we regroup, refuel, reset our expectations, and hope that each day will get easier.

A friend’s child asked her today “will it always be like this?”

We all could benefit from asking ourselves that question every day.

We need to remember that this time in our lives will pass. It is temporary. Brighter days are ahead.

It will not always be like this.

​Here’s to finding the bright spots while we wait.

As the summer begins to wind down and fall begins to knock gently on our door, I typically find myself in my happy place—not because of pumpkin spice anything, or leggings and boots, or shiny new academic year planners and school supplies — but because both of my boys are boys of fall.

Article originally published on Her View From Home. Click HERE to read the full article.

​Recently my family drove north to stay at a hotel for one last getaway before summer ends.
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Life on the other side of our shared hotel room wall was very different than life on our side.
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The family on the other side of the wall was the same as my family - just a version of us from 12 years ago.
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On the other side of the wall were high pitched squeaky voices that shouted “mommy look!” over and over again.
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On our side of the wall were tall manly teenage boys with deep and sometimes moody voices.
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On the other side of the wall were toy train whistles and giggles.
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On our side of the wall were xboxes and conversations about politics.
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On the other side of the wall they were silent by 8pm and awake by 6am.
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On our side of the wall we stayed up past midnight and slept in late.
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On the other side of the wall the parents were the last to fall asleep.
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On our side of the wall I was the first to fall asleep.
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On the other side of the wall were bedtime stories, sweet lap cuddles, raspy early morning voices, and sippy cups of milk.
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On our side of the wall were requests for coffee, sarcastic quips, and eye rolls.
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Both sides of the wall were filled with love and families just trying to find joy with each other as summer comes to a close.
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No matter which side of the wall you are on right now, enjoy your time there.
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There is peace and magic and beauty on both sides of the wall.

 I’ve been here before.

This space between elementary school and middle school is familiar to me for I have walked this road before with my oldest son. This road is a place where childhood really starts to feel finite and the pull of adolescence finds its way into our lives. It’s a short road but one that feels endless at times and is often uncomfortable and scary.

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

Last week my family of 4 snuck away with my sister’s family of 6. We decided to continue our pandemic social distancing but do it from a different place. We piled into two cars and made the trip to a beauitful house in the mountains. All 10 of us in a house together, on vacation, for the first time ever.


It took a pandemic to make it happen.

No travel sports for the children has opened up our schedules. Pre-pandemic, we had to struggle to find a few hours each month where all of us were free. But now, we get to spend one full weekend day together each week and easily found a way to get away for a vacation.

It took a pandemic to make it happen.

As the 10 of us floated down a river in our teethered together inflatable tubes for a full 7 hours, we laughed, we talked, we swam, we stood up and dragged our tubes when the water got too low or the current got too slow, we wondered if the little rapids would kill us when the water was higher and moved more quickly, we relaxed when the current and depth was just right, and we pointed out how lucky we were to be able to have this time together. We made incredible memories with each other.

It took a pandemic to make it happen.

Later that week, as we sat around the dining room table playing game after game after game and belly laughing until it hurt, I breathed it all in and hoped that the future would be kind to this family. I hoped that these days we have been given together would keep the 6 cousins tethered together — just like those tubes on the river — long after the grown ups are gone.

It took a pandemic to make it happen.

While I wish we could go back in time and avoid so much that this year has brought to us, I am also grateful for the forced slow down these difficult times have provided us. Life seems to have more sweet spots now as I decide more deliberately how and with whom I spend my time.

It took a pandemic to make it happen.

Although things often feel wildly out of control in the midst of the current events, my life feels wholly more mine than it did before. Life used to feel like those areas of the river where the water was high and the current was fast — things often felt out of my control and like they were moving too quickly. Other days used to feel like those parts of the river where the currents meet and we had to work hard to get our tubes back on track.

But now, despite all of the stress and uncertainty in life, my life feels like those sweet spots in the river. There is peace, happiness, laughter, and love. Things somehow feel just right.

​It took a pandemic to make it happen.