The five year plan, Part III

Impossibly and miraculously, I have made it past another five year mark in writing on the blog and it's time to revisit and revise the good 'ole five year plan.

Previous five year posts - gosh how I loved going back to hear my own voice in those posts captured right at that time in our lives. Seems like a different world but also certainly not five years ago - how time passes will never make sense to me. 

The five year plan: 2020
The five year plan: 2012

When I was 36 in 2020, I sent out these hopes for me and here's how they've shaken out: 

• you will not have moved but found a way to make this home and space more of what you want - yes! updated the living room, found private spaces for the biggest kids, re-did the basement into a den, added a basketball court outside! All projects I never could have even anticipated wanting or needing five years ago. 
• you will have more farm animals (goats? sheep? ducks?) - yes! currently at 6 goats, 30 chickens, 2 kittens, our 16 year old dog Bullet, and our guardian dog Osa! 
• you will WRITE THE DAMN BOOK - technically no, but theoretically yes....hahhaa, I am currently in the works of something on this! 
• you will have taken some/all children on a volunteering trip - no not officially but we do all volunteer regularly in our school communities all year long and we started taking proper family vacations again - both things that are important to me. 
• you will still be teaching - yes! in a new school!
• you will have stuck to your guns on the no cell phone until 8th grade rule - a little adjusted because motherhood is nothing if not being flexible. Our rule is phones at 13 and social media at 8th grade.
• you will still be making Family Yearbooks - yes!!

Content, optimistic, tired but hopeful Tabitha of 36 on the brink of having your fifth baby in the middle of a global pandemic. My darling, you will be surprised to find out that in the last five years, these things have happened: 

• You have six kids!! Five years ago, you were just about to have your fifth baby via c-section during Covid-19 lockdown with full intentions of being done. And then when that fifth baby was five months old you found out you were pregnant with number 6! A half dozen! It was clear that the wish on a star you made when you were 7 years old telling everyone you would grow up to have six kids really came true! 
• You took a year off of teaching to stay home with the three youngest and got to nanny your first nephew that year too. What a blessing it was to work for a school district, principal, and superintendent who gave you that gift. 
• You are an aunt to three nephews! Your baby sister Uch had three boys in three years and they are the sweetest squishems ever. Being an aunt is one of the greatest joys on Earth.
• Bullet is still alive at 16 years old! 
• You and Brandon both moved schools (no longer in the same district); it took some adjustments but B is with the kids at school and you have learned how to manage work-life boundaries and that feels like a step in the right direction.
• You teach elementary school students in the morning and high school students in the afternoon at your new school which means every day is a fast speed blur and you know about 500 students' names across the district (a much bigger school). But you feel proud of your financial contribution to our family, you love working in a department of two with your new Spanish teacher partner, you get to work with your dear friend Loni, and you've grown as a teacher and a person who knows their value. (proud of us). 
• Brandon is the Varsity football coach at Conemaugh Township and football season has become a family event! Three family members on the sidelines every Friday night and the rest of our crew and extended family and friends in the bleachers rooting for the team. (all your Tami Taylor dreams come true!)
• We got the driveway fixed with millings and you can barely remember now how bad it used to be!
• We have made changes to our home that match our growing family: paved a half basketball court behind the house, renovated the inner garage to be another tv room, converted the room near the attic door to be a tiny bedroom for our teen daughter, and bought a huge sectional couch for the living room that fits all of us! There are still a lot of projects and dreams that we have, but it feels like our home is growing up with us.
• You still have that pink carpet upstairs and the tile in the kitchen that you hate (LOL)
• You navigate the grief of losing your mother-in-law (over a year ago now, but still finding your footing regularly because grief is like that). You try to guide and support your husband, kids, and father-in-law through it as best and intentionally as possible and received so much patience, love, and support from family and friends. (miss you everyday, Gigi). 
• We said goodbye to our pitbull Trixie (13 years), all of Brandon's fish (we don't even have a tank up anymore!), a kitty Dwayne, and two guinea pigs Toffee and Queen Barb
• We started to raise goats and lots of chickens, we even have a guardian dog Osa who lives with the goats full time. We went through a breeding season of goats (what a stressful stage that was of being a goat grandma!) and we have learned a lot about animals (medicines, pregnancy and birth, wing clippings, castrations, midnight rescue missions, freezing temperatures, heat advisories, predators, electric fences, and stool samples!) We have loved and lost many farm animals in five years- What a lesson in life and loss and love we have earned from hobby farming. Who knew we were these people? 
• We have a 12 passenger van (Lucille the Studermobile) and Jillian the Honda Pilot, and we still have Ron Burgundy the Ford Truck. It was oddly sad to say goodbye to Sheila (our first van) and you even got a little choked up as we drove away from her on the lot. 
• You have a sourdough starter and her name is Celebrina. You feel proud to have it and make things from it but also kind of hate the effort it takes to maintain it. You definitely do not need one more thing to take care of but also get joy and pride from it so its worth it. A perfect example of you still trying to figure yourself out. 
• You are straddling a great canyon of parenting right now; a span from raising teenagers to raising a 4 year old and many ages in between. What a vast stretch of your body, mind, and heart it is. Trying to delicately balance the scale of raising big kids with big problems and little kids with little problems and the beautiful blur in the middle of independent young kids. In your wildest dreams you could not have imagined what a challenging yet incredible gift it is to be in the thick of parenting all these stages at one time.
• Grey is fifteen and half a foot taller than you and you play a game called "I bet he can't eat all this" while you try to give him two bagel breakfast sandwiches each with three eggs, meat, and cheese (spoiler alert: he eats them both and then eats a protein breakfast bar afterwards). He plays football, basketball, and baseball but still loves fishing and hunting the most. He is artistic too though and plays with his younger siblings and daydreams about driving a car and can concoct a delicious wing sauce.
• Gem is thirteen and 4 inches taller than you and reminds you so much of being a teenage girl it is disorientating almost daily. She plays soccer and basketball and is an assistant trainer on the football sidelines. She is president of jr high student council and takes photos for the yearbook and loves to fall deeply into rom com movies and tv series. Her heart is still wide open and she is empathetic to a degree that it is self-sabotaging. 
• Violet is ten and a half and though she be tiny, she is mighty. She and I have opposite personalities which makes for both fun and frustration for both of us. She cheers and plays basketball and soccer. She also is in elementary student council, on the scrabble team, and plays the flute. Her creativity and artist's heart has her wrapped up in projects and ideas (and messes) every day. But competitiveness is truly her driving force and she is determined to be the 'best' or the 'most' in all aspects of her life.
• Rusty is nine and a friend to literally everyone - everywhere we go people are calling out to him to say hello or to play. He is an incredibly patient big brother and an easygoing little brother. This year he played football, soccer, and competitive swim. Last year he also tried wrestling, next year he wants to try basketball and baseball. He is very athletic and strong - so I know he'll succeed in anything he tries if only he could get over the fact that all of the sports require practice (the part he dislikes the most - he just wants to play and have fun!) 
• Reddy is five and equal mixes of his big brothers with a heaping scoop of just him in there. He has the most contagious laugh and can get all of us going just by laughing himself. He played soccer this year and became absolutely obsessed with fishing. It has been so sweet to see him learn more about himself; figuring out how he is like the men and boys in his life (his dad, grandpas, his brothers, all his brothers' friends, the football players on Daddy's team) and who he is himself. He is still a little bit of a momma's boy and I will take it for as long as I can get it. 
• Olive is four and like a sparkler come to life. She is sassy and hilarious and so smart is it shocking. She loves dancing, lip synching, playing babies, and bossing everyone around. She played soccer this year and cannot wait for the moment that she can be a real cheerleader (she pretend cheers at all her big sibling's games). If ever there was a child who was meant to be the baby of the family, it is Loopy - she handles it with so much spirit, smiles, and sass. 
• You and B are solid with 25 years of love and learning between you (16 years of marriage). Every year brings its own challenges and obstacles to learn and grow through; to figure out how to talk and hug and kiss our way to the other side of money worries, parenting, job challenges, relationships with friends and family, and maintaining a home and farm. He is truly your best friend and most days the only person you even want to talk to about anything real. The hard parts will never cease as we move through life, but what a deep sighed relief it is to know at the end of each day you get to climb into bed and lay on his chest and rest in the safety of his arms.

36 year old Tabitha, 

Girl, I love ya. Thank you for being and doing all the things you did then - never getting settled in comfort and always trying to move towards the version of you that you see out there in 50 years from now. You were young and hopeful and more lighthearted then. I wish I could sit down with you and listen to you chatter on and on and steal some of that energy and optimism you have. I would love to give you a hug and let you know that you are on the right path and out here with all the kids ranging in an 11 year span is hard but mostly so fun and full of life. You are going to love it out here, keep going girl! 

46 year old Tab, 

Five years seems  like no time at all in my time - but you and I both know that our time does not match the speed of our kids' time. What do we care if we are 46? but if I'm 46 that means that we have a kid who has graduated high school and that seems impossible. I want to give you a hug out there - how are we doing? actually. Do you miss the snuggles of the little ones (because I can still scoop them up and shower them with a million kisses and they just giggle). Does your body feel like it belongs to you more than it does to them; less holding and carrying and being a lap to sit on? Do you ache for the slow mornings when you wake up before everyone else and you know that everyone is under your roof asleep in peace? Are you still performing magic out there at Christmas and lost teeth? Do the kids still tell you their dreams in rambling stories over cereal at breakfast? I'm back here holding on to that for as long as I can for us.

If I'm being honest though, I can already feel the chill in the breeze coming from the open door out there of the future of motherhood; kids grown and moving on and even youngest kids that are heading towards double digits. But I know there is more good coming too; good I can't even imagine. Do you still have a missing sock pile? What have you done with all the spaces that used to hold baby dolls and board books? Do you still have gogurt in the fridge? Do you wake up rested because you didn't have a kid's foot in your neck from kids who want to sleep in your bed? 

It's so good right now at 41 with all six kids under our roof (aged 15-4!) I wish you could come back here for a day and see how it is again to have everyone at home together. There are struggles (everything is broken, everyone is hungry, everyone wants to do all the things) - but every seat at the kitchen table is full, and it is mostly days filled with silly and funny and always a pop-up dance party. Best of all, I am still homebase for every single person in this family. 

I don't know what it will be like out there - both in motherhood and in life? I'm old enough now to see that life can knock you on your ass pretty quick and you have to relearn how to walk again as a person while also navigating your children through it as a Mom. I can't begin to imagine what's going on out there for you but I trust you and I know you are figuring it out and learning and trying to see and be the good.
You got this - I believe in you and I'm cheering for you.
Cheering for us.
Cheering for the kids wherever they are in life too. 

In five years, Tab - I wish for these things to be true for us: 

• the house is more organized and you have less stuff
• everyone in the family has a passport that has been used at least once
• you and B have renewed your vows and the kids were a part of it
• your writing is out there in the world and you feel proud of you
• you feel strong and capable in your own body

the 5 year plan revisited

While poking around in the 12 years worth of blog posts (!) a few months ago, I found this post from August 2012 and smiled and laughed my way through it. In that post, I had written to myself five years younger (24 year old Tabitha) to tell her about all the things she would be surprised to know had happened in only five years time. Then, I had written a list out to future Tabitha for five years from then (Tabitha of 34 yrs) and guessed, hoped, dreamed at how our life would change in another five years. 

Since I didn't uncover it until this year (seven years later!), I smiled as I checked off the list while astonished, as always, at how time slips by; ya blink, man, and ya almost miss it. Tabitha from 2012 had written these thoughts for five years in the future: 

• we will have added to our human family by 2 - yes! plus (almost) one more than that!
• we will NOT have moved again - yes!
• we will have traveled to Europe - no
• we will still be doing 12 months of kindness - yes, but loosely - we just try to live with kindness and give our own personal gifts out as generously as possible
• i will be working with kids again - yes! 
• my kids will be bilingual - hahha, no. they tell me to "just talk regular" 
• b and i will have renewed our vows - no, but our whispered declarations of love and gratitude to each other in the small moments of hectic life of raising up kids carry so much more weight than any ceremony or party could ever
• i will be a published writer - ugh, no. although I did write my first short story and Brandon blew it up 300% size and framed it and hung it in our dining room

Seven years ago, I was 29 (oh, how precious!) with two kiddos aged 3 and under. I was right in the beginning states of understanding there is no way to figure this mom'ing gig out; just scratching the surface at the realization that there is no right way, fix-all, or perfect in raising up kids. Gosh, how I wanted there to be one though - because I am a researcher and planner and tryer-outer and I was determined to overturn every darn rock to discover the way to do this thing the right way. How sweet and ambitious of a young mother she was - how tired and frustrated she was; mostly with herself. 

I had learned so much in three years of mom'ing, but I had so much to go yet - so much experience, so many more kids (hah!), so many more mistakes and successes that needed to come through to get me to where I am now...still not knowing what I'm doing, but finding solace in recognizing that it's a good thing to get to continue to try better and grow each day. To see that what works today and is beautiful right this moment might only last for just this moment. And what is a chaotic, messy disaster today will be something we laugh about tomorrow. Because, girl, this is a damn circus. But it's our circus and we have our favorite freaks in our freak show and we wave that flag loud and proud, baby. 

Sweet, ambitious, beautiful, exhausted, brilliant Tabitha of 29. My darling, you will be surprised to find out that in the last seven years, these things have happened: 

• you are back in the classroom teaching high school Spanish (for 3+years now) and you are the Spanish club adviser, prom committee adviser, and Project Lit book club co-founder
• you're in college again (online) while teaching full-time and pregnant to take one class that the department of education is requiring you to take to be PA certified (after passing all the PA Praxis tests last year)
• you were a stay-at-home mom for three years and it was the best and loneliest job you have ever had
• Brandon took a huge pay cut and changed jobs for a much more balanced work-home life and a healthy, hearty beard and you could not be more grateful
• Brandon was a varsity basketball coach for six years at your alma mater
• you have not traveled out of the country in over five years
• you and Brandon coach youth sports almost year round (you: youth cheerleading and soccer and Brandon: youth football, basketball, and baseball)
• you started running and have run and finished many 5Ks, a 10k, and a half marathon
• you read real books again, like a lot of them (20+ a year!)
• you started a small book publishing business with your best friends that create and sell outdoorsman related children's books
• loved, prayed, weathered, and researched through a year and a half of pancreatic cancer treatments for Gigi
• you lost your final grandparent, pap, and carry the heaviness in your heart of being a grandparentless grandchild
• you and Brandon took a long weekend trip to the Adirondacks to celebrate 10 years of marriage (!) and it was incredibly blissful and memories of that little window of just the two of you helps you stay grounded when our normal life is so loud and busy
• you said goodbye to both of your cats who live in cat heaven with cat Jesus now
• Brandon has most of his fish still - Big Daddy the catfish lives on still!
• you currently have 7 chickens
• Bullet is still the biggest pain in the butt of the family. Trixie still only wants to sleep and snuggle
• in there, we've also had hermit crabs and a hamster (rest in peace with hermit crab Jesus and hamster Jesus)
• you and Brandon eat high school lunch together regularly during the school year because you work in the same school district now
• you drive a mini van; her name is Sheila. We are pretty sure she has a mouse living in it #kidsnacklife and we call him Marvin and say he's Sheila's pet 
• you still have pink carpet up the steps and that tile that you hate in the kitchen
• your oldest son has gone to kindergarten (such a traumatic momma milestone, you cried and then survived and now thrive), broken his wrist when he was staying with cousins three hours away, would choose hunting and fishing over you (hah, but seriously), plays every sport with the athletic freak genes he possesses, and is almost a decade old
• your oldest daughter has gone to kindergarten (still heartbreaking but with much less trauma because - girl you been here before), struggled in school academically, has best friends that are 2-3 years older, carries a deeply empathetic heart around each day that needs regular caring and tending to, and fought for human rights by teaching classmates that "flesh" is not a color of crayon and telling kids on the bus that boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls
• your middle daughter has registered for kindergarten, kissed a boy (!), has special powers that might include seeing the future, almost drown last summer, and has dimples when she smiles mischievously 
• your second son does not stop talking, has the sweetest lisp you've ever heard, whiplashes between a cherub angel and a demon, eats chocolate and chips for his main nutrition, and can not wait to be a big brother so he's not the littlest
• your baby boy, Studer #5 (!) is scheduled to arrive in 6 days with your first c-section due to a low lying placenta and possible cord prolapse...in the middle of the covid-19 pandemic. his life will be no doubt be full of adventure. 

29 year old Tabitha,

I love you for your ambition and hopes and dreams. Thank you for using moisturizer, and trying crazy pinterest things when you had the time, money, and energy. Thank you for hanging in there when the first swing at motherhood is so shocking and scary and hard - so so hard is that first time out of the gates! I get to live this life today because you lived that life seven years ago and I am so grateful for this life today - in all it's loud, messy, madness. I am proud of you and thankful for you. 

And to future Tabitha - 42 year old Tabitha out there. I cannot even imagine, nor do I want to even go there yet thinking about the life you lead with bigger kids and bigger problems - teenagers! all five kids in school! boyfriends/girlfriends! permit drivers! 

omigosh, I can cry just considering it. But maybe if you make me do it - I hope these things might be true about our life in five years: 

• you will not have moved but found a way to make this home and space more of what you want
• you will have more farm animals (goats? sheep? ducks?)
• you will WRITE THE DAMN BOOK
• you will have taken some/all children on a volunteering trip
• you will still be teaching
• you will have stuck to your guns on the no cell phone until 8th grade rule
• you will still be making Family Yearbooks

Good luck out there future Tab. I love you, I trust you. 

Do this life; this loving your handsome bearded husband, this raising up kids, this teaching students and coaching kids, and giving generously with an intentional, grateful heart. 

It's all going to be okay - and if we're lucky - it's all going to be imperfectly wonderful. 

it all still counts

I have a tendency to be very self critical.
it's my own voice in my head, but she's mean and she knows how to play dirty

'you should be in better shape she says.'
'those clean clothes have been in that hamper for three days'
'seriously? frozen pizza for dinner again?'
'do we have to be late for everything always?'

the point is, she's not nice. and she makes me feel bad about myself.
and I would bet that I'm not the only one that has that voice whispering terrible little nothings

but today as I was bringing the dogs back home from a quick walk
fueled up by the crisp, clean winter air
i told that voice to be quiet.
because sometimes days are hard
I told her - I reminded me -
sometimes whole seasons of life are hard
sometimes you can just do what you can do
and that's okay

maybe someday I'll feel like I have it together
maybe someday we'll have a better bedtime routine
maybe someday we won't be late to everything always
maybe someday i'll dedicate consistent time for myself to write and exercise and take a bath
but that day does not appear to be today.
probably not tomorrow;
or likely not for this season of my life.
because we have these small humans with so many needs
and i have my students, also, with so many needs.
and this handsome, kind husband who reacts to that mean voice in my head with exasperated pleading, "babe why are you like this? I wish you could see you like I see you."

and all of this 'not quite who i want to be' version of me;
the one i am today;
who could definitely be better
but is also doing the best she got with what she got right now.
she's okay.
she's not perfect,
this life is not perfect,
not even close by a long shot
but it counts.
it is my life right now.
and there are small dazzling little moments of perfect
like when I caught that glimpse of our windows lit up from the path today
and my veins were flooded with the meaning and the feeling of four precious letters: home

wherever you are right now;
maybe on the right track,
maybe you've 'made it'
maybe you're not even in the same zipcode of where you think you should be
maybe it's currently unrecognizable
maybe all we can do right now is what we can do this one day.
one foot in front of the other
just do what you can do.
and that's okay.
wherever you are right now,
know that this counts too.

a viral post and some writer soul searching

Almost six years ago now, my first child; our son, Greyson, was a year and a half and I felt like I was losing my mind.  As a brother-less mother, I felt blindsided with every new age and stage as our son started to grow out of his babyhood and turn into a toddler.  In a panic, I bought a ton of raising son type books, talked to and asked questions of as many Boy moms as I could, and scoured Pinterest for tips of raising boys.

Finally, after being inspired by a list I saw for Dads raising daughters by Michael Mitchell, I put together a list that I would be able to come back to if and when I started to doubt myself as a Mom again (and I have doubted myself about three million times since then!).  Something I could use as a foundation for the kind of Mum I wanted to be for our son(s) based on what I aspire towards and all the good that was raised up in my husband (thank you Gigi!)

This was how 25 Rules for Moms with Sons was written in November 2011.

About three months later, in early 2012, that post got swept up in an internet tornado and has been on a journey all its own - even into present day. In fact, just this week, my original post was re-shared by MOPS International on facebook (thank you), and I'm always so humbled and grateful when my friends/readers tag me in the comments to let me know they saw my words out in the world.

My original post has been run by plenty of websites through the years.  The Good Men Project was the best about it, adding me to their list of contributors and running other pieces of writing I've done.  Many other sites have shared the article and linked back to my site, and unfortunately, some bloggers have done much worse and simply copied & pasted my writing and linked me only as "a blog I read" with no mention of my name as the author.

This post has been discussed in podcasts, run through online newspapers, and re-pinned so many times I've lost count.  I have heard from readers the most heartfelt messages of how it touched them and I am constantly blown away by the kind and loving responses various Moms have to reading it. I even wrote a One Year Later Reflection post about the whirlwind of the piece's internet journey. Just a few months ago, I heard from a Mum that said she still has a copy of it hanging on her fridge.  And my dearest friend just told me that she re-reads it once a year as she's now a mother of two sons (I wrote the piece before she became a momma).  It's also seen it's fair share of critics and haters too (but that comes with the territory).

That singular post -within my whole almost nine years of blogging- has been the biggest thing to ever come out of this blog.  I'm grateful to that post for bringing into my life so many of my now loyal readers and sweetest internet friends.  And I'm appreciative of and so very very humbled by the positive ways it has touched Moms over the years.

So, (finally getting to it now, hah), two Fridays ago, my 25 Rules for Moms with Sons post experienced another bizarre moment, enough so that it's taken me almost two weeks to let my emotions simmer enough to be in a place to share here now with a clear head and grateful heart.

I woke up on Friday morning before the kids, got my coffee, and quickly hopped onto Instagram to see a notification that someone had tagged me in a photo that included the words from my #25 of my Moms of Sons post as the caption without credit to me as the writer.  My knee jerk reaction is kindness and benefit-of-the-doubt, so I responded in kind to both Adrian (who alerted me) and Rachael (who had posted my words without tagging me).  And went about my morning.

Then I logged into facebook and realized what all the fuss was about. The Instagram photo was also shared to her blog page five days earlier and over the course of the week had been shared by:  Scary Mommy, Good Housekeeping, Babble, Yahoo, and PopSugar.  By the time I had even seen it, the original post was shared over 30K times and the reshares were over a combined 20K. And it wasn't until it had already 'gone viral,' before I was mentioned at all as the writer.

I spent most of the rest of the day trying to do some investigative work, figuring out who exactly had shared it and with how much credit to me...

College Candy was better than most quoting my response to Rachael on Instagram (which was my first reaction when I received Adrian's note on Friday morning).

Celebrity Rave did worst than most mentioning me, as almost a nuisance to their story; a bullet point they begrudgingly had to add,  "shared a touching message written by a fellow blogger."  (By the way, in the spirit of internet justice - Daily Mail UK, you should take a look at Celebrity Rave's post  because it looks like they simply copy&pasted from you, never linked up to your post, and also left out any of the decent bits).

I also spent the day, messaging back and forth with Adrian from Tales of an Educated Debutante who was so passionate about making it right for me as a writer that she directed her own readers to join my facebook page (thank you!).  Emailing back and forth with Scary Mommy who apologized for how the whole thing went down.  Responding to a beautiful and kind message from Kara from Mothering the Divide about how she empathizes with how frustrating it can be as a writer, especially knowing that in today's world the likes & shares matter to get your voice heard.

It was certainly disheartening to see firsthand the sort of state of internet 'reporting' that we are in right now.  Lots of people were picking up the photo and caption - some even reaching out to Rachael to interview her about how it felt to go viral.  Do you want to guess how many websites reached out to the writer of the words of the photo?  None of them.  Not one single website that ran the story (even when they linked to my original post) emailed or messaged me to ask for a response from me!  I had a real internal struggle with trying to digest that big time sites were interviewing another small time blogger (who doesn't know me nor even regularly reads my blog) about how something I wrote made her feel....? I just find that it so very disappointing.  It doesn't appear to be about the actual story, but rather it's about being viral  -and that feels disingenuous and shallow.

There were certainly lessons that came out of the experience.  First and most astounding, I may only have a small group of readers, but they are loyal to the core.  I was honestly blown away by their ferocity of loyalty and cry for justice for my words.  I have made some new actual friends across social media, and received quite a few new followers thanks to (although late arriving) credit to my words as the author of the 'homebase' language.

I also had the incredible and important opportunity to practice loving kindness and made, surprisingly, a new friend in Rachael.  We had a chance to talk throughout the day via messenger and as I told her, there are no hard feelings.  I really do understand the nature of the internet and how things can get away from all of us, and also how mistakes can be made.  It does me no good to hold a grudge in my heart, and so I don't, truly.  I deeply believe that what you send out into the world is what comes back, so I choose to send out kindness, understanding, and patience, every darn time.  And at the end of the day - the mommas who needed the message found it in Rachael's post. That is surely the greater good in all of it.

The most difficult part was trying to find a healthy balance within myself.  After six years of my 25 Rules for Moms with Sons post being used and re-shared so many times, it really does feel like something that no longer belongs to me.  Almost like it's just property of the world; of all mothers now.  I think it if had been any other pieces of my writing that had been used without my consent, it would have broken my heart.  But that particular post has been such a beast of it's own in the past six years that it barely stings anymore.  And yet also, trying to justify that it is My writing, My words, My feelings that I poured out onto that page.  It continues to be My words that I have been writing about My family for the past six years. That I should be just as proud and ferocious about my writing as those loyal readers were who wanted to seek out justice for me when they saw this unfold.  That I should see my writer's voice as valuable in the wider world.  To see myself as a 'real writer' who deserves the recognition that comes with people being touched by something that was born out of my heart and experiences.

At the root of this still on-going (?!), six year long journey of this piece - it was My son who inspired this list.  I appreciate so much that it applies to so many mothers and sons (and even plenty of mothers and daughters ), but it wasn't written about Every boy...it was written about My boy.  My boy inspired a list that has been read and shared literally millions of times.  My boy who STILL inspires me to have to continually go back to and cling to that list while he's driving me crazy with his seven year old wild, yet wonderful self.   In my One Year Reflection post, I wrote this and it's still true:

"At the end of the line, for me, the greatest of all prides in this journey of my blogpost (that went from our silly little family blog - to making its way around the internet and has been read millions of times):  it is that it grew from inspiration from a boy.  my boy.   I have printed all of the comments from my post to add to his baby book with this note:  Because of your life and the inspiration you have given my heart that spoke to my brain and moved my fingers - you have inspired moms and their sons around the world, my sweet darling. You are a history maker.  I love you forever and ever - thank you for the inspiration everyday."

Booboo,
my oldest baby.
(I can't think too much about it without crying, but)
I will love you forever.
even when you make me mad, sad, and crazy.
even when you're bigger than me.
even as your wildness breaks all our things.
and your smart mouth breaks my heart.
even then.
my darling,
i love you.
mum.

Lu.

our Lulu was our first pet.  Brandon and I got her back in 2008 in our first shared home (our teeny tiny Punxsy apartment) when she was technically too little to come home with us yet.  B spent a few nights feeding her milk from a dropper when she woke up crying; she gave me the first opportunity to see B in Dad mode.

Lu has lived in every home that B and I have shared together.  She's been with us in Punxsy apartment, Erie apartment, our first home in Erie, the chalet we borrowed from my best friend's family for a summer in Blue Knob, to our home now.  Lulu was kind and patient and sweet with all four of our kids.  She loved snuggling up on the couch if anyone would sit still for a few minutes with a blanket.  She was such a good cat.

It has been a choreographed dance with the dogs and cats since we've had them all together. Bullet's breed (Belgian Malinois/Dutch Shepherd - which we didn't discover was his breed until six years later) has an extreme prey drive and Lulu has never backed down from him chasing - so it's been seven years of keeping them separated, checking doors and gates, making sure the dogs are exercised, etc.  It's been an effort to keep the pets away and safe from each other, but many times of the past seven years, we've found ourselves between them; the dogs' faces scratched and Lulu backed into a corner. It has been a constant feeling of anxiety for me making sure everyone is safe and separated and everyone is good.

It is with a heavy heart to share the news that our sweet Lu died last night.  We found her when we got home from the end of season baseball picnic.  The gate wasn't up and so she must have come up and the dogs were down and the three of them had a tragic encounter.  When we got home, Bullet and Trixie were standing near her, ears and tails hanging down like they knew something was wrong (we believe they probably fatally shook her in the kitchen or laundry room and then carried her over to the cat door to the basement, where they knew she was supposed to be).

Grey was the first to walk in the house, he saw her, turned around sobbing and called out her name.  It was terrible.  Violet and Rusty were already sleep, so B and I held and comforted Gem and Grey as they both wept for about a half hour before the four of us went outside to bury her and say our goodbyes.  It was awful, both as pet owners and as parents to heartbroken kids.

We're going through all the guilt and regret - we coulda, woulda, shoulda a million times and a million different ways.  I keep trying to remind us though that we were always trying to do right by all of them.  To keep them all in our family and all safe and loved.  We could have given the cats to someone way back when, and I think we would have been coulda, woulda, shoulda 'ing that decision.  Or gave Bullet away and we would have been coulda, woulda, shoulda'ing that too.  Is there a right and perfect way to do anything?  I don't know - I think we just have to try to do our best, love with our whole hearts, and try do right by those we care for.

We are hugging a lot today and stopping mid-task with tears in our eyes.  Pets make themselves real members of a family and she did with her snuggling up with a blanket, and her letting Rust chase her around, jumping up into the sink when anyone went into the bathrooms, walking along the bathtub between the shower curtain and liner while the kids were in there.  I often said Lu was the only one in this house who listened to her momma. She will be missed everyday and remembered with loving kindness.  She was a good cat, our first pet, and we loved her.

If you have any extra prayers and thoughts of love and peace - we'd appreciate to have you send them over to our kids.  When I told Violet this morning, "Something sad happened last night, honey.  Lulu went to heaven." she looked up into my eyes and asked, "Can she come back?" and I told her no, you don't come back from heaven and she said, "But I love Lulu." And Gemmi and Grey both woke up today saying, "I'm still sad about Lulu." and I had to confirm that we'll probably be sad about Lulu for a very long time.

learning to run

My first ever half marathon is a mere one month and three days away which is both terrifying and exhilarating.  Brandon and my sister are running with me.  Brandon is running because he is a saint on earth and agreed even though he didn't have much of a choice considering I only asked him after I had already registered us both in our first ever.  Kayla has run a few halfs in her life and so she has been fielding my panicked questions and concerns with patience and encouragement - because 13.1 miles is A LOT of miles if you've never run that many before. 

But over the course of learning to run, ya know what I've learned?  1 mile is A LOT of miles to run if you've never run that much before.  And truthfully that's where I'd say I had started.  

A few years back (about five to be exact), my sisters and our men registered for my first ever 5K, the Color Me Rad race.  At that point, I had a two year old and a barely six month old baby and was way out of exercise habit.  Growing up as a volleyball player, running had always been a punishment - so I learned to hate and avoid it.  I found other forms of active living much more enjoyable and never considered myself a 'runner.' So, heading into the months before my first 5K, I was so anxious about running the race.  I was embarrassed to run in front of anyone, worried I wouldn't be able to finish or keep up, and slightly horrified that it was three miles all at once!  

So I began 'training' in a small way, I started running laps around our yard.  First I started at a half a mile goal, running the perimeter of our yard and then when I got more confidence; heading out into the streets of our neighborhood. I kept pushing a little farther until I finally ran three miles all together (without dying - much to my surprise and delight!) about a week before the race.  The color run was fun and after I was able to finish the race (jogging the whole time!) it felt sort of silly that I was ever afraid of a 5K in the first place.  Isn't that the way with life, it's scary until you do it, right? 

Since that first 5K, I've run quite a few others over the years.  Personally, I never run for time but rather the opportunity to run with people I love and to help raise money for whatever cause is putting the race on.  One of my favorite races is the Santa Hat race at our hometown Christmas parade that I've run with Greyson for the past two years and the races I've done with my baby sis, just the two of us running in the morning and then heading back to the rest of our days like it was no big deal that we ran three miles before the rest of my family had even finished waking up on a weekend morning.

And now, three miles isn't scary to me anymore.  I usually like to prepare a little bit before a 5K, but honestly there have been times when I've showed up to a race without running for weeks but I was sure that my body and lungs could handle three miles at once.  It wasn't exactly pretty (or fun or fast) but I'm confident I can run three miles if I had to.  #zombieapocalypse ....which is a HUGE deal knowing that when I started this all I was afraid of one mile. 

Bullet, our dog, has also been a source of running inspiration for me.  He is a malanois-mix and needs the exercise to help him be calm.  Any chance he can get out makes all of us feel happier.  Even when I don't feel like going, seeing his tail wagging and knowing it's helping him is motivation enough to get me out there.  Isn't that the way with Mums?  to benefit ourselves, it's not tempting enough - but for someone else in our family, by golly, we can muster up the strength! 

I've also found motivation in tracking my mileage.  I use the Runkeeper app (let's be friends!) and seeing how many miles I can tally up over the course of a week or a month helps me stay moving.  I live by the truth that it doesn't matter how fast you're moving, as long as you're moving.  Because, friends, I am one slow runner...I'm talking S.L.O.W.  

The other night when I ran my longest run so far ever which was 6.5 miles, I was averaging about a thirteen and a half minute mile.  This is NOT fast.  like at all.  but you know what, I RAN SIX AND A HALF MILES no matter how slow I was moving.  A mile is a mile...and six and half miles is six and a half miles regardless if it takes you an hour or an hour and half.  When I told B my pace, he was all like, "oh gosh, the half marathon is going to take us like three hours!?" and I was like, "dude, the finish line is the goal."  (he's a saint doubly because despite the fact that he could probs run thirteen miles without any training at an 11min pace, he'll stick by me the whole time because, you guys, he is serious #husbandgoals). 

Besides feeling better about my physical self and strengthening my body and lungs - running has also increased my outdoor time and my solitude/peace time.  I only run outside (we don't have a treadmill, nor do I belong to a gym), and I run without headphones almost always, so my brain moves into overdrive with planning, daydreaming, and reflective mode (after that initial "omigoshIhatethissomuch" thought phase in the beginning of a run, hah)  

If you read here regularly, you know I have a thing about how being outside positively effects everything in your life - but seriously, it does.  I am so grateful to running for this part of outdoor experience for me - getting to notice our neighborhood in a new way, to be grateful to the breeze when I'm sweating, to learn the distances from our front door to the high school and back.   

And I'm sharing this all, not to brag or boast (bhahhahah! certainly not with how slow I move!), but because back when I was first starting - I wish someone would have told me that it was normal to be afraid to run a mile if you've never run a mile before (or haven't in a very long time).  Or that running a 5K for the first time feels terrifying but that it IS possible.  And that if you can feel brave enough to try, your body will surprise you and you can learn to run and not hate it....learn to love and crave it, in fact!  And I wish someone would have told me that who cares if you have a 15 minute mile or a thirteen and a half minute mile or a ten minute mile - because it's the miles that add up, no matter how long it takes you. 

The truest thing is, my body isn't perfect - four kids later it definitely isn't, but even before then - it's darn near impossible to find a pair of pants that fits my thighs, booty, and waist and be the right length...(where my fat bottom girls at?)- but running has reminded me that my body works!  It works in all of its imperfect, jiggling, curved fullness.  It may be slow and sore and tired - but it's mine and it works.  

So running for me has become a gift and a challenge.  A gift to my brain for the removal of distractions and chaos of everyday life - and a challenge to keep moving forward in the literal way.  That this old girl still has many miles left on her, no matter how slow -That I can accomplish forward motion..which actually is a pretty good metaphor for life in all of it's winding, bending paths.  

xxoxo onward, friends.

the dazzling momentitos

this is going to be obnoxiously optimistic and flowery because i'm feeling so grateful and happy and inspired.  if you were to run into me after two glasses of champagne friends, this is how I talk, so you've been forewarned.  although I haven't had any champagne..and probs should - because life, man.

anyway-

it's been pretty hectic over here with the four kiddos, and greyson back to school and flag football practice/games, and a three month old who is learning so much and so fast, and an almost two year old (gasp!! how?!) and our gemmi ro who has all the drama of a fifteen year old squeezed into a four year old's body, and my part time working, and brandon's full time working....and life, man.

and honestly, it is so busy and plenty confusing and tiring - but so very very fantastic.  I don't know if its the awareness that comes with another birthday (whoot whoot 33!) or the perfect amount of time dipped into the adult world that my new job provides me, or doing something that I love and inspires me so much (teaching), or just life, man...but everything feels so wonderfully chaotic.

Even with our new schedules, it has felt that Brand and I have been rowing in sync along the great river of married life with each other - and if you've been married or together a very long time (going on year 17 for us!) you'll know what I mean and how that feels (and also how it feels rowing slightly out of sync...or when only one person is rowing or no one is rowing, hahha).

As always, there are these dazzling momentitos that remind me so fiercely that this wild, so very messy life that we have is one that is beautiful; so beautiful down to the root of the root and the bud of the bud.

here are some of my current dazzling little moments, just so I can remind myself if/when this elation wears off in the near future.

• Rusty's smile as soon as we make eye contact and his cheeks, and the smell of his head, and that squishy neck of his, and I can still get him into his 3 month footie pajamas but just barely.
• Violet's new favorite phrase, "Holy cow!" and her legs are currently covered top to bottom in washable marker and she painted her own toenails (read full toes) and vasoline in her hair - and she's so much the epitome of a stereotypical toddler these days that it hurts my bones in the best way possible
• Greyson asking for a bigolesnug daily for the past week and how excited he is about football and his friends and first grade and how obvious it is how much of a big kid he is and how that's going to be okay because he's mostly a good kid
• Gemma Ro saying everything is 'impressive' and making the biggest deal over my outfits for teaching like I'm the fanciest person on the planet and how she takes such good care of both violet and rusty and how the smallest gesture of kindness can completely turn her whole attitude around like getting twirled or holding her hand while we walk. 
• Brandon.  so much.
• the fog breaking on the hillside before McNally bridge when the sunrise is beaming through so strong and I literally (not.even.exaggerating) spread my arms wide open and soak up the rays for thirty seconds on my way to work in the morning. 
• green tea in my to go mug on my desk at work glancing over my day's lesson plan before the student's arrive
• the weather recently.  goodness, autumn is everything that's inside my heart.
• slipping into our bed at night with the windows open and the fan running and knowing everyone is in their beds and sleeping soundly 

sometimes I write in my gratitude journal in full caps:  REMEMBER THIS FEELING!! :) :) :) 

true story - once upon a time I responded to an email and the person that recieved my email meant to forward it to a colleague but accidentally pressed reply sending it back to me.  at the top of the email she wrote about me:

She! uses! a lot! of! exclamation! points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

not even kidding.
and i just replied to her and said, "I think this was meant for" (the person she addressed it to).

no harm, no foul - because the thing was, she hadn't met me in person yet, so she didn't know that:  My regular voice is generally in exclamation points!

you gotta embrace your flaws friends.  hold tight to the circus that is your life.
because at the end of the day, it's YOUR circus in all its bold, beautiful dazzling momentitos of weirdness.

today feels like a gratitude journaling full of exclamation points and full caps.
xxoxx

what are the momentitos that you are loving right now?

the real deal

yesterday afternoon, the kids were jumping on the trampoline and the sun was setting behind them and it was just too perfect of a photo to not capture it.

but if you knew the truth, i was so so frustrated and just plain mad when i was taking this.  it was just such a hard day, and i had straight up indignation sloshing about in my insides when i took this idyllic photo in time.

so many times when i talk to people (in both real life and through the internet) they confess that they think everything in my life seems so perfect and easy. i believe it's mostly because i have a tendency to try to (borrowing Jack Johnson lyrics) 'take the picture from the pretty side' to remind myself that above all else, i have nearly everything to be grateful for.

but when people, other moms especially, say things like that - it can be frustrating and overwhelming because, I can assure you a thousand times over...it ain't.  every.single.day i reproach myself at one point (or twenty points), "why are you not better at this?!" "this" being a multitude of things ranging from being a mom, to reacting to disappointment, to tackling mess and clutter.

usually days are sprinkled with hard things but mostly seems fairly ordinary with the little magical moments of gratitude that keep my head above water.

but yesterday, no.
it was the fight with my husband followed by uncontrollable hormonal cryfest before he left for work and then the clutter (dear God, the clutter ev.ery.where.i.look.), and the 27 week pregnant belly in my way and makes nearly every activity uncomfortable, and my inability to ask for help, and the vaccine that made my arm muscle so weak and sort of numb, and the four year old who threw a stage5 meltdown at gymnastics after i had a stare down with trixie, our dog, to come in the house so i could load all three kids up in carseats to get them there while the whole of the gymnastics parents watched (or at least it sure feels like that, doesn't it? everyone's watching and waiting to see how your parenting unfolds during public tantrums) and our one year old literally ran out onto the floor and commandeered the gymnastics equipment.  and the dogs got in a fight with each other after barking for thirty minutes at the quad riders in the woods behind the house that i had to break up by throwing rocks at them (honestly, yesterday, sweet Lord.) and the baby wanted held all day, and our five year old talks in a megaphone voice constantly, and i was tired and pregnant and constipated and yet also so hungry, and i had kind of a runny nose which the sneezing only led to peeing my pants a little every single time, and the entire time my inner voice rolls her eyes at me and shouts, "YOU know other people have REAL problems, tabitha!" which instead of making me feel better and grateful makes me feel worse because it's like, seriously "why am i so sad and mad about things that are dumb when my life is beautiful?! i'm the worst."

for reals, you guys.

and i know some of my amazing friends and family are reading this right now calculating in their minds the ways they can reach out to me with kindness and help -and because you have that autoreflex of taking a moment of pause alone: please know that is why we are friends and why i hold you so close to my heart and in my life.

honestly this post is in no way meant to be some kind of cry for help.

me writing this is just a way to get all of this out so that it stops stirring about in my guts and bringing me down, man.  because today isn't nearly like yesterday, but all that yuck is lingering and i need to shed it out of me little by little (warm bath, reading, being outside, and tackling to do list items has each already contributed to combating the blues!)

and this post is also to tell whoever else out there who might be feeling sad and mad but also battling that incredible guilt that comes with holding gratitude in your heart for a beautiful life that really has nothing to be sad and mad about: me too.

so much, me too.

ps. seriously! don't text me or call me or send me food! i love you solely for reading this post and long distance high-fiving me because you too sometimes.

xxxox

Santa, all I want for Christmas is patience

Dear Santa,

When I originally sat down to write this letter to you, I was frustrated and tired.  I was ready to pen my exasperated letter to you asking...begging for time.
Santa, what Mum of little kids can't use that, right?
What Mum at all can't use more time in the day?
Actually, what grown up can't use that?
More time, especially during this season of hustle and bustle and gifts to buy and traditions to uphold and places to visit and baking and wrapping and elf moving.

So as I sat down, grumbling about how slow my laptop was booting up, my daughter walked into the living room and spilled an entire bowl of cereal.  Let me be more clear, not so much spilled, as accidentally hurled the bowl into the air so that a rainbow of cereal and milk showered three quarters of the living room.  Santa, I swear our natural motto around here is Go Big or Go Home in all things we purposefully or accidentally do.

I saw this happening, as I was in mid-sentence of saying, 'I don't think eating that in here is a good idea,' so my internal flinch reaction was frustration with the fact that the very last thing I needed to add to my to do list, among the laundry list of holiday tasks, regular chores, and child rearing needs, was to add 'mop the living room floor'.

Before I even had a chance to react as she and I made eye contact after the splash, her face crumpled up and said, "Mumma, forgive me! Please forgive me!"

I took a deep breath, and in a calm voice that surprised even me, I had her fetch some towels and we cleaned it up together.  It was only quarter of ten in the morning, Santa, so that certainly had something to do with it (let's face it, my patience bucket is profoundly lower come 5p everyday), but it was at that moment that I realized that my Christmas list needed fixed.

Not because she was immediately heartbroken that I was going to be mad, nor because I am some magical beacon of calm in the face of annoyance.  But because it actually wasn't all that bad or time consuming to just clean it up when I wasn't also using up energy on being annoyed.

Santa, deep down, I understand that the time that I have each day, is just what it is.  There is no getting more because time is just time.  We all, all of us, get the same amount every single day and then it is filled up with life until we fall asleep and try again.

So, Santa, I'd like to change my wish.  What I actually would like for Christmas, Santa, is patience.

Patience to tackle the spilled cereal bowl that flies across the room at 9:45 in the morning (and probably again at 7:30 at night) because someday I won't have kids in my house at all to eat at 9:45 in the morning and 7:30 at night because there will be school and sports and friends and everything that is incredibly more cool than eating cereal in the living room to be near Mum.

Patience to see that an hour spent reading Christmas picture books to my kids is just as valuable as an hour spent folding the laundry that has been sitting in the laundry baskets for three days because someday the kids will be able to both read by themselves and do their own laundry and after all, what's an hour of life?  It is, in fact, both everything and nothing and that's why it is so valuable as to what fills it up.

Patience for the dust and dog hair making tumbleweeds in the corners of every room and the toys and crayon drawings that are never.where.they.are.supposed.to.be because someday my house will be clean and tidy, but in this season of our life it is full of life in all ways possible and that also means full of mess.

Patience for the sounds; so much noise and so loud.  Patience for the humming, and made up words and stories, and the tireless questioning and negotiating, and the incessant 'Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum' that makes up the melody of my day because someday it will be quiet and somehow that will be even louder than all this noise.

Patience for this body of mine that doesn't look exactly like I want it to, nor fit into clothes like it used to because I could use a daily reminder that despite it not being perfect, it sure does work like I need it to, and for that I should be grateful.

Patience for this house of ours that needs repairs, and updates, and has far too much stuff in it because it is the home our children will remember as theirs when they are far away living their own lives and where we work together side by side to make small changes within a budget that we plan together, and where we are safe and comfortable and warm every single day.

Patience for so many things, simply because I live in a country that values freedom of speech and thought and the privilege of #firstworldproblems at all.

Patience for all the things that don't move as quickly as I think I need to move; this laptop, the traffic, the kids, my husband, our pets, the boiling pot of water for dinner, the coffee maker....me and this Studerbaby4 bump, because I must learn to recognize that life is not a checklist.
Look up, Tabitha.

Patience when I can feel frustration bubbling up into my voice and my face and my posture because I can change nothing in the world but my own attitude...and yet that change can change everything in my own world.

Patience, Santa,
to be a better wife.
a better Mum.
a better Daughter.
a better sister.
a better friend.

I know I need to work on this for myself too, I'm just hoping for maybe a little extra dose in my stocking this year if possible.
thank you, Santa
(send my love to the Mrs. and the elves)
xxoxox
tab

ps. also, World Peace
k, thanks, love you, bye.

What do you drop?

Sometimes people will comment to me, "How do you have enough time to do that?" The 'that'referring to any number of things:  blogging, writing, family yearbook making, teaching CCD, The Hunting Daddies, volunteering, etc.  However they mean to say it, it generally comes off feeling like they seem to think I have more time than them.  And although I'm supremely blessed to be a sahm, that doesn't mean I don't tend to go overboard on jampacking my own plate.  Efficiency is an obsession of mine and I could probably use counseling but c'est la vie, right?

There are ways that I've tried to combat the overwhelming feeling that comes with juggling so many balls at once and keep me focused on getting as much in as possible without going a little nutty: 

• Things like instituting a chores schedule (Mondays: our laundry washing/drying and vacuuming & dusting upstairs; Tuesdays: folding & ironing, ebanking, etc).  
• I have a planner that is filled weekly and daily with tasks that I need to do or at least start to think about to make sure no aspect of the juggling acts swings too far out of control.  "Add money to Greyson's lunch account online," and "Plan upcoming weekend trip to SU for 10 year reunion"
• I am faithful to Monthly Meal Planning and doing only one big grocery trip a month (filled in with small trips for bread/milk/produce as needed).  
• We don't have any 'shows' and rarely watch any grown up tv, with the exception of AMC on Sundays at 9pm, of course.  
• I force my tired behind out of bed before anyone else is awake in the morning for at least a half hour to an hour and a half to get the day started without little hands pulling at me.  

..and yet.

There is a running list of things that ideally I'd like to accomplish each day.  Things that fit into certain criteria.  The house chores that are assigned for that day as per my weekly schedule: laundry, folding, ironing, vacuuming...  Then there's the food:  preparing, making, cleaning up.  The kid related stuff; reading books, playing games, teachable moments, hygiene...The adult necessities: bills, scheduling appointments, returning emails/calls, groceries...My own personal stuff: blogging, writing, volunteer projects, exercise, reading...

and however it might appear out there in the world
try as I might, I just cannot seem to get it all in.
ever.
not any day.
EVER.
something gets dropped because the hours in the day (or my energy) run out.

There are definitely things that I am more willing to readjust or drop all together when I inevitably need to make changes to the day's plans.

Nine times out of ten, it's my own personal agenda that gets prioritized and resorted (or dumped off the list all together).  For example, in August, I put an effort into getting the jogged miles in for both my and Bullet's benefit.  We got out on the trails behind our house and we did it!  We made it to our goal of 30+ miles in the month of August.  Which meant that the time I put in there replaced the time I have to put into something else on the list; ahem, blogging/writing which I did nearly zilch for last month.

I also put a big push into finishing our 2014 family yearbook in the last two weeks (I did it!! It's done!! only eight months later!  97 pages and filled with all of our adventures and favorite pictures! But it's done and ordered, thank goodness!!)  Which means I slowed down on the jogging toward the end of the month and continued my poor output on the blogging/writing.

I'm always trying to figure out ways to squeeze the most life out of my days, and this fall season will be no exception.  I'm hoping to do loads more writing - both on the blog and for my novel - and with the yearbook wrapped up and one kid in school (!!) that might be possible without dropping something else.  But as history shows itself, the hours in the day don't generally line up with the ambitions I set up in my mind.

I sometimes look at the women in my life and think, how is their house always so clean?  How do they do so many awesome projects with their kids?  How do they fit such great exercise and healthy eating into their life? How?  How do other people have it seemingly all together?

Every time I catch myself thinking enviously, I'm trying very hard to remember that 'She' is probably just like me, at the end of the night, laying in the bed and grumbling about all those tasks still left on her list that didn't get done today.  That she, like me, is probably trying to weigh the day overall:  "Well, I didn't get in any decent exercise, but I did read that extra book to the kids and we had a good laugh about it and also I finally cleaned the oven...so that balances out, right?"

Are we doing the same thing each night?
If yes, hi.  you're not alone.
Maybe tonight as we tally and count the day's productivity we can both try to remember that if we're doing our best with what the day throws at us and our kids got hugged and giggled a little today, then we're doing pretty damn good.

xxoxo