I still remember the time surrounding her death. So many people prayed with me, prayed over her, and ignited my soul in a way that has kept me warm this entire time. Something that steeps in the most fragile corners of my mind, was someone who told me “you’re just like her; but with softer edges” a beautifully haunting phrase that has wrapped around my bones throughout the years. 

As Christmas season covers the world in a soft spoken prayer, I find myself missing her more. There’s still so much love that lives, yet still without a home. When she left she brought a mansion of unmade memories with her. And sometimes, here, without her, feels so empty. 

When I get sad, I find the urge for a quiet spot, to pour my heart into a calming pile of words. It feels like a wild stream of consciousness for a little bit until I find my rhythm, but tonight I knew just what I needed to say. I couldn’t wait to write a letter I wish I could’ve written when she was here with me, along with the beautiful pain of knowing everything I know now.

Dear mom, thank you for all the magic. Thank you for curating the blueprint for all of my most perfect memories. Thank you for guarding our innocence and feeding our childhood.  Thank you for silencing fears and negative thoughts. Thank you for putting me before yourself. Thank you for staying up late, and sometimes spending the last dollars you had set aside for yourself, on us. Thank you for thinking ahead, planning in advance, and having to create Christmas magic, tired, sick and sometimes while maybe even PMSing. That shit is hard. Ugh. The most superficial, may be the one that thanks you for the living room that literally overflowed into the hallways with presents. Another thank you whispers every time I make meatballs, vodka sauce, or the occasional (perfect) crispy but fluffy pancake. It was always magic, it was always you, and the way you taught me so much simply by doing good things and being present in love and life is why it worked. But I know it was hard. I know it was hard because I’m living it now, and somehow, for almost 9 years, I’ve done it without you. 

Thank you.

For teaching me how to set a proper table, and also how to set boundaries. How to forgive with grace, and how to never forget. How to cook with love, and that saying no with love, is an art to master. How to break bread with all kinds of people and also how to break in a new pair of cowboy boots, heels, and a solid leather jacket. 

Thank you.

For all the ways you loved me, and made me feel so seen and special. For the ways you built me up, and even for the ways you knocked me down. Thank you for teaching me how to pray and for praying for me, I know those prayers protect me still. Thank you for showing me how to live out loud, to never let anyone dull my sparkle, and to know the difference of digging my heels in to grow roots, or using my wings to fly. I’ve used all you’ve taught me and more. I learned to speak my mind, and wear my heart on my sleeve. I’m still trying to learn how to stop wearing my heart on my face though (iykyk). I learned when to soften my heart to hard situations, and when to let my thick skin do its thing. I’ve forgiven people and let people see themselves out, I learned the sacred skill of teaching people how I want to be treated. I’ve learned the precious balance of power and peace within.  

All because of you. ♥️

There’s so many times I’ve thought of you this season. Like when my friend brought me roses that instantly reminded me of you, but even more when I knew to cut them on an angle, under running water, for freshness and longevity. I think of you every time I shop, because I long for a Christmas with you again that I know will never come. I think of you every time I drink tea, and would do quite possibly anything, to drink one with you. I think of you in every laugh, every tear, every ornament hung on the tree. I think of you when the sunlight dazzles through the bare winter trees. I think of you when the snow quiets the sounds of the busy world. I think of you when I wrap presents, curl ribbon, and think of the best presents for the people I love. I think of the way you’d guess your present before you opened it, and always being annoyingly right. I think of you when I’m dog tired after a long day at work, and still come home to be super mom. You were the OG of super moms.

I learned it all from you. And thank you doesn’t feel adequate, especially when it’s coming years after you’re gone. But it’s important for me to honor you, on your 9th year an angel, at Christmas. You’ve taught me how to be strong and that it’s ok to be weak. You’ve taught me how to appreciate the most delicate details, knowing that’s where the difference between mediocre and magnificent lies. You’ve taught me to cherish the nuances of simplicity. The impact of unique experiences and quality time. The lessons that are found in every day living. All of this and everything more. There is nothing that seems insignificant in your absence. Everything is important because the lessons and treasures you left behind. Somehow, I’m still learning every day. And I have you, in life and in death, to thank for all of this. 

I almost forgot 🥹🥹🥹 My kids; your grand babies, they know exactly who you are, and I hope it melts you when you hear the way they speak about you. They know your favorite song, and what you’d order at Cracker Barrel (meatloaf 😂😞). It kills me to hear Veni say she misses you. For Mav to recall the way your house smelled and how spoiled your dogs were. And for Ace to question his own reality of remembering you or not. But you and I know he knows you, and he just might have been your favorite. They ask you to send them butterflies, refer to lady bugs as Gaga, beg for you to send them bucks in the woods, and credit you and St. Anthony when they’ve found something lost. You’re woven into the stories I tell, the meals we make together, the features of their faces, their mannerisms, their humor. You’re in every corner of their little personalities, and your spirit lives on inside them. They love you so much ✨

So that’s it. My poured out on the floor, broken little Christmas heart. I feel sad that I still miss you this much. So. Merry Christmas to my mama. Heaven is so lucky to see this season through your soul. And I know you know, but – I love you forever 🤍 I still needed you 👑

I never really cared about the way my blinds look from the street. I never really thought about it much. Like the people of the world are going to judge me if my blinds aren’t all drawn to the same latitude they were designed to hang at. Like my life depends on whether or not I draw my blinds up or down or at the same height? Who made me this way? I found myself awake in a house full of sleeping people, folding clothes from our long weekend away.  From the broken in couch cushion that’s been my favorite for well over a decade, I noticed the blinds were crooked. Next came the personal OCD test of – can I leave them like that and go upstairs to sleep, or do I have to fix them right here in this moment SO I can sleep soundly tonight?

WHO? CARES? What my blinds look like from the street? I sure as hell don’t. So here I lay, writing, about these little fleeting thoughts, almost intrusive to a woman who’s come this far to worry about what kind of raucous my blinds may be causing to a dark Sunday night!

So yeah. You could say I still feel like I’ve arrived at 40. I’m at the stage of the game that I don’t give a rats ass what my life looks like, I care about how my life feels. Because I know that tomorrow, I still have a hallway full of laundry that smells like campfires and tequila and probably chocolate. I have food from the weekend to put away. I have lessons to teach. I have 3 kids that need to find their routine again, and I have lots of coffee to drink in order to do any and all of those things.

I have finally found myself in a place that feels so cozy, so broken in. It feels familiar and so peaceful. But it’s new to me too. Some days, I think I may get an award for all the tasks I accomplish. I work in this house raising babies, while trying REALLY hard not to raise my voice. I keep the calendar and my finger on the pulse of this household. I think of the meals, put the grocery order together, and sing while I’m cooking for my four favorite people. I clean up the kitchen, beg borrow and steal for a successful bath time, and if I have it in me after books, bedtime routines, google searches and podcasts on how to do it all, I go sit down and fold a load of laundry so I don’t feel as behind as I normally do on a Monday morning. 

Why am I like this? But also, what’s so bad about it? Nothing. And everything. As a woman I feel like I’m constantly racing against time. My kids are growing too fast, my forehead isn’t as smooth as it once was. I’ve been eating too many carbs, not enough water, and oh shit my husband will be home soon.  And what have I done?! Oh what have I done all day?

It all. I truly can say, as a woman raised by a strong one, I can do it all. Even when I think it’s too hard or too late or too soon, or too whatever; us women do it all. So, if you want to judge  the way my blinds look from the outside looking in, I can assure you, you won’t like sitting on my broken couch, either. With a bag of chips never too far. Three homeschooled children who wring the life out of this house, sun up til sun down. A sure fire bet there’s a room renovation going on, day old mail sitting on the counter right next to my bra, and always extra food in the fridge. Because it’s not the way my life looks that matters. It’s how this life feels, and it’s how I get to share my life with the world. And lately, it feels abundantly good. Blessed. Humble. Warm. And so broken in. As women in 2024, we need to be kind to ourselves. We need to grab life by its face, right between our hands, and kiss it. Don’t fix the blinds. Sit in your favorite spot, wrapped in your robe, and have another cup of coffee. Call your best friend this morning, look at the sky. Whatever you do, go ahead and get the love inside your chest out into the world. We need so much more of that 🤍

You really don’t know what living inside a moment you prayed for feels like, until your middle child who turned 7 two weeks ago, is running full speed toward you, around a pond, with the trout he just caught. You can literally see his heels clicking as he runs through tall grass and muddy hills, more excited than you’ve ever seen him on Christmas morning. Because he’s so excited to show you. Because you’re his mom. Because you’ve made everything good he’s ever done such a big deal. Because it ✨is✨such a big deal. Or after you’ve had a long, much needed cry, and your oldest son comes in from outside and hugs you without ceasing. Holding on longer, and breathing and squeezing that hug with you. And you hug until you both realize how much you needed that hug from eachother. How proud you feel that he knows empathy, and embodies it. Or when you can’t help but scoop your youngest up into your arms every chance you get, and kiss her sweet face, and study her finger nails on her tan little hands that have lost the baby chub forever. She’s officially 5. It’s close to midnight on the eve of her birthday, and I can’t help but stay awake and watch her sleep. How did we get to five? How have the years that have felt like quick sand and a sand timer get to this point this fast?

I’ve been experiencing a creativity block of sorts, and this has never happened to me. I love to write and create and get things out of my body in the way that they don’t belong to me. So I can share them with people who can relate to a shred of what I’m rambling on about. I’ve been praying every morning before I get out of bed, and meditating and manifesting before I reach for my phone. At night, I love talking to God before I fall asleep, asking him to keep the people I love safe and with peace and happiness in their souls and love inside their hearts. I just want everyone I love to feel free from anxiety; and be filled with peace so they can have a life that’s long and rich with experiences and joy and so much love.

People love complicating things. Humans are so lucky yet we are all so stupid. Recently I shared a gem with someone and I’m gonna share it here with you, too. I read somewhere once, that we are the universe experiencing itself.

How beautiful.

What a simple, amazing gift.

To be able to experience heaven and hell all in one lifetime is a privilege. It means we are alive. It means we can choose more heaven than hell. We just have to figure out how.

We stopped celebrating birthdays last year because we were sick of the stress and drama birthday parties bring. We stuck to our guns, and we just completed our third trip for our baby girl, and when I say we squeezed the last drop out of every moment and accepted every adventure, and tried to say yes more than we said no; we squeezed hard.

We created those core memories everyone talks about. Where a beautiful memory seeps into a regular moment, and it’s a little fuzzy, but you know it was real. And you may have been a little too small to recall, or a little too young to remember, but it lives inside your bones and runs through your blood and erupts out of your eyes in the drop of a tear that tastes like salt and you, for a moment remember how simple life is supposed to be.

And now we get to create those little slide shows inside our own children’s heads and hope to God they remember all the good and that any of the bad was used in a way where they learned. The conversations by the fire at night, the long walks to lively ponds, diving and swimming and jumping into a crystal clear neon pool; under the tallest and greatest most perfectly placed trees that frame a gorgeous night sky speckled with stars that seem a little more sparkly up here in the Adirondacks. And when you look up together, you all agree in the silence of a Sunday night campground that we can all be better. Yes even 5 year olds. And 65 year olds, too. We can all be better.

The key to teaching our kids how to treat their futures is by treating their now. Encouraging conversations, learning communication skills, the importance of a genuine apology. The beauty of forgiveness, and the peace it can bring. Also to know when they don’t get an apology, to forgive anyway, but not too many times. To run toward adventure and away from anything that feels stagnant. To keep fresh eyes turned toward the future, and a heart that’s open to all the love the world has to offer. To know their soul is worth showing and sharing with someone who understands its sacredness. Encouraging them to love, to live, and to know who they are.

With all that to say, I am far from the person I hope to be when I’m only a memory. I hope to always remember how small I am, but never take that for granted either. I pray that my kids always know to put themselves first, but that they know when to be selfless too. I pray they know love in many forms. I pray they can know how to live in a moment, and be happy for what it’s worth. I pray they know when to let go and let God. I pray that they feel peace and that their innocence lasts forever. I hope they never need to know a cold world, and to always know their worth. I hope they know how much I love them, even when I get it wrong. And God knows I get it wrong.

Here’s my point – do it. Stand alone, stand up for yourself, stand in your beliefs. Stand in love. Stand in your faith. And then go forward. Scared, sad, unsure, just keep going. I promise you’ll figure it out. And your kids are watching, so remember to be kind 🤍

It’s June. And I’m in my feelings.

When people compliment me on the fact that I homeschool I kinda don’t ever know what to say so I respond with “I cry a lot😂” and if you’ve ever given me that kind and amazing compliment- you can attest to the fact that it’s true. However, I really don’t cry a lot. In fact I’ve found I say that to deflect the absolute truth that I really enjoy being with my kids all day long. And all night. And in the middle of the night. And early mornings. Obvi there’s a hint of sarcasm in there but mainly, I thoroughly enjoy being with them. I had my kids to have my kids. And tonight, one of the overwhelming tasks of organizing hit me in my anxiety and I took on Ace’s room. That little frat boy of mine is just like me in the fact that he – in the words of my mother – can fit 10lbs of shit in a 5lb bag (Maverick and Veni also carry this trait of mine. Matter of fact, Dan is like this too so. Birds of a feather I guess 😂)

So my work was cut out for me tonight. I always think of my mom when I clean, and to get myself focused, I thought back to when I had to clean out my own childhood closet and I always hated it. And I thought I’d do this dreaded deed for my kids from time to time because I’d hate for them to have those memories of having to clean on a hot summer night.

And tonight, the upstairs of my house, smelled like my house used to smell on a hot summer night. Veni was singing in the bathtub with her bathing suit on. Mav was laying upside down on his bed, waiting for the tub. And Ace was snuggled up with Stella in the big bed. I was loosening the little buttons on the fasteners inside the waist of every pair of his size 6 pants and shorts only to realize they definitely don’t fit anymore, and I cried. I cried because he’s gonna be 7. And the last time I thought about it, he was 5. So where did the last year fly off to? How did I do another year of life without my mom? How has Ace never met her? How have I mothered 3 kids without her? Why do I have to? How do I have a 10 year old who texts me really cool stories when he’s in the woods? How do I have an almost 7 year old who makes me belly laugh and also pluck gray hairs out of my head? How do I have a little girl who knows that being funny is so much more cool than being beautiful?

All the thoughts came rushing in, and with all the goodness my babies bring into my life, and all the time we spend together, it just doesn’t seem like it will ever be enough. So I cried. And I packed two garbage bags full of Maverick’s hand me downs, and all of Ace’s clothes that no longer fit his healthy growing body, nor Maverick’s, and nobody else to pass down to except a spider man onesie of Ace’s that Veni will love ❤️

But all of that, it just broke my heart a little.

Life is so much. It’s fun, it’s hard, it’s peaceful, it’s chaos, it’s happy and sad and every other thing. I read once that we are the universe experiencing itself. And if you really stop and think about that – it’s a pretty amazing thought. I try so hard every day to put out goodness, to practice gratitude, to love hard, to speak my truth, to build my children up, to be real with them, but protect their innocence too. I try to be a good wife, friend and sister. And I guess I’m just here to remind you to take it all in. Experience the entirety of a day. The duality that exists. The pain and the joy. The pride. The beauty of it all. Sit in every emotion as often as you can and feel it.

And if loosening a button breaks your heart a little, know that I understand you. You and me? We are each made up of all these little moments we collect over the course of the life we get to experience. The love we get to feel. And the love we get to give away. I love the fact that I myself am a collection of all my favorite people, and all their favorite sayings, their favorite things to do, their favorite songs, their favorite flowers, and all the experience that came with each reason why.

I’m trying so hard to practice gratitude this summer, and always. Putting the positive out and praying on anything that isn’t.

This month I’ll celebrate my eleventh year of marriage. I’ll reflect on the way we grow together, and set goals for what we can work on. We will celebrate completing our fifth year of successfully homeschooling our kids. We’ll spend Father’s Day and our baby boy’s birthday, camping on Lake George with the help of old friends and new friends. I’ll remember my mother on the eighth anniversary of her passing. And I’ll love the people who love me, my kids, and my family the way they do. I’m celebrating it all this month, because life is hard, but moms are harder 🫶🏼

I’m so grateful for this life. Thank you Jesus ✨

My oldest woke me up with breakfast in bed. Made me pancakes with fruit and whipped cream on top with zero adult supervision. He also still takes time to stop and smell the blooming trees in front of healthy living where he left me in the store to go buy me a gift for Mother’s Day, all by himself. My middle guy snuggled with me last night and this morning, he knows my heart and the way to make it happy. He arranged flower pots with Dan and they surprised me with them this weekend. He also cleaned up dinner with his dad and helped me get to 10,000 steps today. And my little lover girl asked for a pedicure and smooth hair for Mother’s Day – which she got 🫶🏼 she also learned how to flare her nostrils today and it made me laugh so hard each time she did it. (Picture to follow) My husband, God bless him because even at my most difficult- he pours my coffee, got my favorite snacks, and rode the roller coaster of emotions I took him on today 👹I received texts from my friends who remembered my mom with me, and I cried. I needed that little biy of extra love. I know my life is busting at the seams with blessings. I have great kids who are thoughtful and compassionate, and a doting husband who loves me. We ended our day with dinner on the deck, sharing what we love about eachother and then enjoyed two different desserts just before bed. Mothers Day isn’t what it used to be, in any way, but I’m thankful for the memories I get to keep forever that came from this rainy Sunday in May 💜

Perspective is a gift. While mindlessly scrolling tonight, a chat in a DM stopped me dead. And as perspective does – it awarded me a plethora of thoughts to make me realize I needed to write. As always, I write to organize my thoughts and hope for some semblance of profound understanding by the end. So here goes nothing.

There were a few years I was really lonely. In parenthood, mothering without a mother, hitting rough spots in marriage, questioning things I never thought I’d have to. Trying to clear that hurdle of carrying friendships from a carefree young adult version to full blown adult relationships. Not everyone made it. I was ghosted by (not so) forever friends. With no explanation. I also outgrew some relationships, places and things. Now I can see, I was going through the lowlight reel in many aspects of my life, but I was also growing, outgrowing, and really, rebranding who I wanted to be.

After losing my mom, and becoming estranged from my father, I was lonely. I didn’t know it then, but it became crystal clear I was shedding the need to people please. I could no longer accept other family members, their toxicity, and their inability to admit wrong doing. I outgrew versions of myself I had invented to be something I no longer was. I lost interest in hobbies and tweaked my own traits to align myself with who I was becoming. It’s kind of wild to look back at this now.

It’s hard when people expect you to invite them into your world, to be there for them, to show up, to answer the phone, make the first move, and do the right thing. Yet on the flip side, that effort isn’t matched. And shockingly enough – you become the bad guy. Belittled, disrespected and dismissed. What a gift. To be the bad guy in a story you never have to listen to. A story that wouldn’t matter to anyone in your world, because they know it’s simply not true.

While I’ve been giving all the credit to my milestone of turning 40, I snubbed the fact that I was growing internally. I was evolving spiritually, standing solid in my faith, and thriving in my ability to not only be ok with being alone, but to feel happy there. Once I named my feeling, and took the power away from lonely and harnessed it into alone, the real rebirth happened.

I know alone for me is complex as I have a family of 5 that I’m a very central part of, but to have all those blessings and to still have felt so lonely, was even more confusing. And felt like maybe I was even ungrateful. To have this constant expectation of me to act, look, parent, eat, pray, and love a certain way was sucking the ever loving life out of the very soul I was trying so hard to nourish.

Being lonely changes a person. It’s a road nobody willfully picks or expects to go down. Grief and sadness funnel down a thin necked bottle and then they sit and marinate there. The heavy parts sift to the bottom, eventually breaking down a bit. The contents dull in color, and over time some even evaporates, leaving a murky line where the bottle was once full.

But some day, that bottle is found again; it’s picked up and dusted off, it’s opened and cherished and needed and is even more precious now somehow. Because some day being lonely doesn’t feel so much like a bad thing anymore; but being alone feels like a gift. A gift of perspective, and pride, and peace.

If I didn’t have the time to myself, when God was closing doors, then windows would have never opened. I wouldn’t be able to share my vulnerability with a soul, let alone whoever stumbles across my blog. If I didn’t have that sacred time without fair weathered friends and the noise and the chokehold of expectation, I would never be where I am now.

So if you ever feel lonely, know this – it is temporary. The happiest people have seen the ugliest things. A positive attitude can only come from negative experiences. The most magnetic people have rejected company. The hard and holy work is just that – hard and holy. A wise man once shared this with my husband “how do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.” Dan shared that with me during one of the darkest times of my life. He’s admitted to me many times he didn’t know how to be there for me during the horrible weeks and months after my mother died, but he never let me be alone. Even when I asked him to. The only way out of your solitude is through. And if you find yourself there for longer than you can handle, reach out your hand, and ask for help. Happiness is on the other side. Friends are there too, ones you never expected to make. Complete joy lives here. So does peace. On the other side of despair is hope; on the other side of loneliness is together, and there’s room for everyone here 👑

When my mom died, I went back to work immediately to keep my mind busy. I had two clients in between eachother, both of which had lost their mothers. I remember the first one’s disposition so well – miserable, nasty, condescending, jaded. And the next client was the exact opposite, sunshine personified, contagious happiness, optimistic, exuding life giving energy. A mirror was held up to me, and a choice was to be made. I took that day as a lesson in who I wanted to be, and I didn’t know it then, but my journey in healing began.

Confidence is sharing your insecurities with the world, in hopes to help someone feel a little more normal, a little less alone, and a little more seen. If you don’t understand that, I’d gently recommend for you to take a deep dive inside yourself. Therapy is cool 😎

Recently I’ve found myself on the receiving end of being told “you’ll never move” or “will you move already” and “everyone’s happier on vacation, relax” I’ve even been told “you don’t dress age appropriately” and “don’t your kids need socialization” – women asking me why I still work – and as recently as yesterday, I had someone walk away from me when I shared my passion for medical freedom. 🤯

When you have big opinions, and say them out loud – that shit bothers unevolved people 🎯 If I didn’t have big shoulders, and the lessons grief has taught me, these comments would destroy me. Instead, I allow these things to ignite all the sparks inside my soul, and I find myself on fire in the best possible way. Something about 40 that’s helping me give less fucks than usual, you should try it 👑