“Why are we here and Hobbes is in Heaven? Why do we have to go to school and boys and girls in Heaven don’t? Why are we here if the Earth is not that great and Heaven is perfect?” my five year old son asks me with tears in his eyes. I would usually say he was doing his usual bedtime filibuster, but we did just lose our precious dog, Hobbes, a little over a month ago. The terrible understanding that death is permanent has hit Jack earlier than I had hoped. Continue reading
I am a messy person. I’ve been messy since I was born. I’m not kidding. I popped out and grabbed twelve swaddling blankets and threw them about the room. Then, I politely asked the nurse for another one because I had lost the others. Coming home from school, I would violently kick of my shoes. They landed where they landed. The only time I cleaned my room was when my mom would say I couldn’t (insert fun activity here) until I cleaned my room. I had chores. I did chores. I had to help clean the house. I don’t think I can blame this on my parents. I’m scatterbrained inside and out. The best part about this issue is that clutter makes me crazy. It actually makes me feel icky. I am so much sharper and happily in an organized space, but it is in my very being to be messy. Continue reading
Picture yourself in a small white house, in a pink room with white wicker furniture, lying on a bedspread covered in a signature 1990’s rose pattern. You are 7 years old. Your best friend can’t come over this weekend, you are sick of the same old toys, you’ve been staring at your ceiling fan for 20 minutes, and you are bored out of your little mind. You walk into your parents’ room and desperately proclaimed, “I. Am. So. BORED!”
Then, she looks at you. The classic Mom look, her gigantic glasses reflecting back at you with a confident smirk. She knows exactly what to say. “If you’re bored, I’m sure I can find something for you to do.” Continue reading
So, I haven’t mentioned this amazing visit yet because a huge part of it was the fact that my husband was gone for several weeks hiking the Appalachian Trail. That is a story in itself, but it is important to mention as this blog is about nurturing friendships and providing self care-specifically when your world has been temporarily flipped upside down. I was excited for Rick to live out a dream of his and having young children with easy schedules made this one of the few appropriate times of our life to go on such a wild adventure. So…just to set the scene…Sarah, my BFF since childhood knew I was going to have some long weekends without my husband and planned a rescue visit for a long weekend in June.
I’ve blogged about Sarah before here. We’ve known each other since we were four. She has since moved to Durham where she works as a pediatric acute care nurse practitioner because she is BOSS. To me, though, she’s just Sawah. And I’m just Rebecca. And we’re just the same kids we’ve always been, but with grown up jobs and homes and husbands and all that weird stuff. Here is a picture of us from childhood to remind you that we weren’t always the perfect goddesses we are today: Continue reading
Isn’t it weird how we’re always in some specific phase of life that we don’t exactly acknowledge until it’s passed? That sentence felt complicated. What I mean, though, is kind of complicated. Okay, so right now, I have two kids, right? Yes. Yes, I do. I am aware of that, but because I am going through this right now, it’s hard to appreciate it. There are the little moments when Jack is sweetly talking to Juliet that I can stop and step outside of myself and see that I am so lucky. These are moments I’m sure I’ll have to remind myself of when they both get a little older and start liking each other a little less. Continue reading
It’s kind of crazy that I was just writing about friendship last week when I got a message from my old pal (and elementary school fiance’) Ari asking if we would like to join him and one of my dear high school BFFs for a day at The Museum of Aviation. Um. Yes. Duh. What time?
Ari and Anna were two of my very good friends in high school. Ari and I go WAY back to literally learning how to speak in speech therapy at elementary school. I knew Anna as a kid, but we didn’t become super good friends until my mom forced me to stop hanging out with the bad kids in middle school. Luckily, the good kids were also entertaining. Continue reading
I don’t know at what point I got lucky enough to truly value my friendships. Maybe it was the summer before second grade. Our house had burned down and we were taken in by many families in our town. It is hard to remember how long I stayed at each place, but I was never afraid. I don’t think it’s normal to worry about homelessness when you lose your home at the ripe old age of seven, but I didn’t have to find out. Our friends (my parents’ friends) stepped up and made sure we had a roof over our heads and food in our bellies. Continue reading
I look back at high school and laugh at myself. Things that were such a big deal then are hard to even fully remember now. Break ups were the worst. School was hard. Getting up at 7:30am was such a nightmare. Juggling an after school/weekend job with school and band practice seemed overwhelming. I remember a particular break up where I laid on the bathroom floor crying while my dad consoled me. (Thanks Dad) It was the worst day of my entire life. Failing a test? OMG! My life was over. When I think of what I considered a serious situation back then, I roll my eyes. Continue reading
My relationship with coffee has changed so much in the past few weeks. I’ve seen all these cliche mom posts about wine and coffee, but once you pop out a second kid something inside of you wants coffee 24/7. It’s just like the SNL spirit animal skit. We instinctively chop off our hair, drink a LOT of coffee and develop a taste for wine. I mean-I haven’t yet wanted wine *vodka cran girl*, but it appears to be my closest goal.
I have two kids, a minivan, and strong opinions on vaccinations. I am a 19 year old child in a 31 year old mother’s body. And it’s weird as hell. Continue reading
Every single pregnancy website I read presents me with sugar coated facts and photos of perfectly shaped women with basketballs beneath their shirts. Today, at week 32, I was warned that I may be having some heartburn due to my perfect little jicama (WHATEVER THE HELL THAT IS) pushing up on my stomach, and that taking Tums and propping my head up six inches “may” help. The truth is, for some reason, God decided it would be a brilliant idea to shove a 3 and 1/2 pound human body in a space that was originally the size of a plum. Instead of it growing outward or skimming the surface of its host’s organs, it literally moves aside the entire digestive tract until said host’s stomach is literally in her throat. This is insane. INSANE. And propping my head up six inches is not going to help my heartburn. Nothing can help a person whose stomach is in their throat. Continue reading