Summering

Summer sure is summering, and life keeps right on life-ing.

I'm perpetually tired. It's all good things! Great things, even. But I could certainly use more sleep.

And ugh, the content I had planned! I'm sad about it. There are posts I still intend to write, but the timely ones centered around gardens and June's abundance of strawberries have already faded away.

Such is life - and instead, I've had full, busy days with my boys and several thrifting outings which all bring me joy and zero regrets. I just miss sitting down with ideas and inspiration and writing out messages of cozy homes and shopping secondhand and sprinkling beauty into our days.

Despite my absence here, life has been abundant.

July's cicadas and sunny mornings by the pool make me feel summer all the way down to my bones. It's such a crime - how fleeting it all is! Those things will start to fade all too soon. 

Here in Buffalo, we get so little warmth. Our summers are unrivaled, but quick. Ask any resident of WNY - we try to jam all of life into three months. We have to use it while we can! And be as active and present as possible.

We've gone fishing, been swimming, enjoyed lake-ing, and fit in a bit of resting. (Though not a lot.)

I spend mornings at the pool, enjoying friends and seeing my kids loving life.

I spend Sundays at the farmer's market, where I've come to adore photoing the products of locals who passionately grow, bake, and craft goods for our communities.

Every dawn, I walk my yard and say hello to my gardens - pulling off expired leaves, giving them cool sips of water, freeing them from intruding weeds.

And every evening, I turn my fan on high and crack a book to lull me to sleep - which takes about 5 minutes with how busy we've been.

I've also indulged (repeatedly) in the new season of The Summer I Turned Pretty, and if you haven't yet, or if you aren't Team Conrad, you are missing out on both counts. (Recommend, recommend, recommend.)

I have so much more I'd love to say - so many shareable things have been bouncing around in my head. But we're still busy, we still have a lot more summering to do, and I know that I won't be able to promise any of it anytime soon. I hope. I wish. But we'll see what's actually possible.

In the meantime, keep up with the rest of our summering on my IG highlights! I've been crappier at sharing there, too, but not nearly as neglectful. You can at least see what we're up to most of the time. :)

I hope you're enjoying summer to the fullest, too! 

And I hope to find oodles of time to share and share and share as the silver lining to summer slipping away all too soon. Talk soon! xo

Re-Learning Spanish as an Adult

I'm not sure if I mentioned it here on the blog, but I've been practicing my Spanish lately. I'm not going anywhere....it's not for travel. I'm just a language nerd. I can probably thank Ritalin for this, but I literally just kept thinking "man I miss learning a language" and then...started.

I've always wanted to learn Italian, and I may still someday...but I spent 7 years of my youth studying Spanish to do nothing more than help my kids study their Spanish. And I hate that I wasted it, and also thought it might be fun to wake up a part of my brain that already exists.

And it is. What's even more fun is sharing Spanish with my kids. They know enough now to tell me a word I've forgotten (and vice versa), and we can converse in short every-day phrases and confuse the heck out of Matt. It's great. lol

It's been such an interesting experience.

Like, for one, it blows me away how different it is learning anything as an adult. They always say that your mind is a sponge when you're young and it's important to expose your developing brain to things like other languages, but things like this...direct instruction and repeated practice? Girl, this stuff rarely broke the surface. I retained nothing. (Well, not nothing, but if it wasn't immediately obvious or easy to figure out, I rarely gave more than half an F.)

Yes, yes, ding ding ding...I had ADHD. Of course this was my history. But it's more than that. My therapist and I started digging into this a little lately, and have basically determined that I was disassociated for my entire childhood and only started pulling myself out mid-high school. My memories prior to that are like looking through a hazy screen, and when I try to put myself back into that perspective, my awareness is only half there. You might argue that this has to do with my undeveloped pre-frontal cortex, but we investiaged...it was more than that. 

Okay WOW we're off the rails, here (my morning meds have not yet kicked in, shocker).

MY POINT IS...I thought the fact that I was taking college level Spanish in high school and nerdily attending National Foreign Language Honor Society meetings (to which I was invited based on my surprisingly good grades, which...didn't happen in any other class) meant that I must have really "gotten" it and just forgot.

Turns out, I remembered several nouns and verbs, but could not organize them into coherent phrases beyond "Donde esta mi telefono?" and "Me gusta chocolate." (Forgive my lack of formatting, I don't have the Spanish keyboard installed on this computer!)

But, practicing now with the years of attempted understanding in the background is actually helpful. Some days I'm killing it and flying through the lessons, and other days I'm like....wait, I thought I had this but I clearly do not get this. At times I wonder why I'm bothering. But then other times I feel like I could spend all day on it.

And I have a few observations so far (other than everything I just rambled at you, yes.)

• I remember weird phrases that my teachers used to say all the time, but forgot until now. And when I hear them, I picture them sitting at their desks and I think I will forever associate certain things with them. Example, "cierra la puerta" (close the door), and "otra vez?" (again?)
  
  
• I have the hardest time understanding when to use the articles el and la conversationally. I understand which goes with which words (with a few weird exceptions), but sometimes you use them in a phrase when you're speaking to someone else, and sometimes you don't. And the second I think I've figured it out, I get it wrong. There's got to be some rule for this, but I have not yet sussed it out.
  
  
• I literally did not know that when you use two verbs together, you only conjugate the first one. Like................how did I make it to honors Spanish without knowing that little tidbit? Literally just picked that up a couple weeks ago. It's already like second nature, so maybe I kind of new it (sort of?) back in the day, but didn't understand it as a "rule"?
  
  
• I can't get over how interestingly gendered the entire language is. Like, okay, we have our pronouns, too...but why are random intimate objects even gendered in Spanish? Enough so that when we use the word "the"...it's different depending on what genitals that word would have if it were alive?! This often baffles me. And then I get hung up thinking how difficult modern day social discourse must be in their culture. Why are humans like this???
  
  
• There's two verbs that mean "is"...two entirely different words. One is typically meant for temporary traits, and one used for permanent traits. But not everything follows that rule, and my brain cannot keep it straight. I'm basically always guessing, and I get it right most of the time but it's 75% luck.
  
  
• I notice patterns that I didn't used to. Seriously, when I think back to teenage me, girl was not paying attention. There's so many patterns! Example: the Spanish words for car and expensive are one letter apart and I don't think that's a coincidence.

Anyway, I'm sure I will have like 70 bajillion more observations as I go along - I'm on day 30 of practice! Proud of myself for that....it's definitely a fixture of my morning routine. I often do a little practice right before bed, too, and sometimes I dream in Spanish! So bizarre, but really cool.

Hablaremos pronto!

I do actually have a few resolutions...

They're just different this year.

More chill. More long-game. Less urgent.

I've definitely felt a shift lately. The last six months maybe? Things are still wild some days, and very often exhausting. But since the start of EMDR (trauma therapy) and meds that I avoided for a long time for no real reason...there's so much less grasping at air, looking for holds that aren't there, furiously paddling upstream. 

Many days are hard, but it's all starting to feel more.....possible.

And this is what I want to do with those possibilities.

1. Do at least a tiny little bit of yoga every single day (preferably more than a tiny little bit).

2. Keep the shop growing, make it an asset to our family as soon as possible, and spread the cozy, restful vibes far & wide.

3. Be with my books. Spend time with them and give them their due diligence - finish one every Saturday.

4. Declutter & Feng Shui my house, one corner at a time.

5. Get brave enough to tackle my appointments and the big scary work.

Not ready to elaborate on the last one, but so far I'm kicking butt at the rest. 

Matt and I have been doing Yoga With Adriene's 30 Day Center journey. We've been doing this every January for years...this might be our 5th year? It's the best. I'm so hibernate-y in winter and I need something cozy I can do from home. It's *perfect*. And she has enough other videos to last through the whole year. Though some days the most I will manage is a couple sun salutations, but it all counts!

Cozy & Rych grows a little every day - with new items, new customers, new feedback, new ideas. It's lit up my whole life. I love what it is and where it's going!

The book thing is because I noticed something about my 100 book year vs my 55 book year. The first was fun and productive and I accomplished a lot, but I couldn't remember the books. Like really remember them. And I started longing for the experience of having a relationship with a book one at a time, in a meaningful way. This is how I'm finding balance...being buddies with one book a week and taking it in with all the senses, in all the little moments.

Number four is going down on my Instagram stories, if you want to check it out. You'll get the best idea of what a whole hot mess I actually am.

That's my 2023. Way more simple (but more meaningful, and somehow bigger??) than all the years before it. There's something to this mental health thing, man.

7 Hygge Things To Do This January (plus thoughts on having a focus)

I might be speaking too soon (considering the worst of it usually strikes me in February), but I don't feel my seasonal depression creeping in this year.

I can thank therapy for a lot of that - and, you know, starting an antidepressant and more vitamin D than I ever knew I should be taking. (Spoiler: it's a whole lot.) But I also think it's a bit of renewed purpose and focus.

You know what I kept thinking about after I wrote my last post?

I used to really hype up all these little facets of my life because I was so desperate for direction. I don't know if it's human nature or my ADHD, but I *need* a major focus in my life. One all-consuming thing. That's not to say that I don't still need balance or variety - I do. But without one major driving purpose, I just sort of float around in a sea of too many interests that I'm only 80% in on. When I have a focus, the intentionality of all those other things come into focus.

Does that make sense? 

(This could absolutely be a neurodivergent thing.)

My shop has given me that one purpose - in a way that highlights all the other facets of my life as these beautiful, glittering pieces of joy. It's like I finally baked the cake and now I can add the sprinkles in a beautiful way. Before I just had a big messy tub of sprinkles and I'd spill them constantly.

Weirdly, being more busy, having more work to do has finally highlighted and made the space in my mind and my heart for the things I'm constantly striving to do. 

Each month, as I focus on hygge and my shop and intentionality - on the sprinkles that make up my life while I'm working on perfecting my cake - I want to share a list of the ways I'm sprinkling joy and contentment into my every day.

They're simple - not big, not resolution-y, not unattainable. Just sweet little moments that we can find in these 31 cold days. Want to do them with me?

• Check out this post for some cozy winter decor ideas.
  
  
• Here's a set of different sized snowflake cookie cutters for your cookies.
  
  
• We have some adorable mugs in the shop for your movie night, and this is one of my favorite winter teas - it's perfect for the season!
  
  
• I plan to read this book in January.
  
  
• A spa night for me usually includes a facial, a face mask, and maybe some fresh polish. This is my favorite mask (I mix it with apple cider vinegar) and after-facial moisturizer.
  
  
• New to embroidery? I have some super simple downloadable patterns in the shop! I really like The French Mango, and she has some great beginner tutorials.
  
  
• You can always ask Alexa to play some instrumental jazz, but I love the options on Youtube. Here's a cozy, snowy jazz bookstore one, another one of those, and actually...a third.

Enjoy! xo

This post contains affiliate links at no cost to you! That means if you click through and make a purchase, I will make a small commission. It's really teeny-tiny, but every little bit helps me support this blog! Grateful for you!! xo

On Being Cozy & Content

Happy New Year.

Normally I'm teeming with things to say about the books I read last year and the new ones I want to read this year, my goals for this and that - I guess that's all still there in the background of my mind. But life has been a bit different lately. I'm not sure I can pinpoint how, exactly.

So much happened in 2022 (most of it good), and I feel like I'm just still processing. That, and getting my footing with a new business and several other life-y things...I'm just taking it easy. Tackling life in a subtle hibernation-style the way winter is intended.

I've been so enamored with intentionality the last handful of months. Taking life as it comes, flowing with the seasons, embracing the elements of the moment. It's like my mind has fully shifted into a hygge way of seeing things, which makes it pretty obvious why I started my business with that concept.

You know what it was, really?

I'd had people over a few times in the fall - at the peak of my autumn decor and the start of the endless months where I make my home as warm and cozy as I possibly can for the sake of getting through the dark and cold. I had two separate people on two separate occasions say some version of "Your home is so cozy" or "You always make things so cozy"...."You create such a cozy home." 

I always looked at our 1950's ranch like it's small and inconvenient, but making things cozy is how I dealt with it. It's how I embraced it. 

Something about having several people call my home cozy (add my littlest sister to the list - she's always said she loves my house because of how homey it is) really struck me. I felt like...wait, am I the cozy girl? Is warm and inviting my vibe? Am I actually pulling that off in a noticeable way? 

It's funny how unaccepting of ourselves we can be sometimes.

I decided that I really liked that people were noticing that about me, and I wanted to embody that. I wanted to fully become the cozy girl. Hell yeah - cozy, self-care, contentment, rest. That's a vibe I'm willing to spend my every day in. We're here to enjoy, right? At least that's what my yoga teacher always says. We can do that every single day in the smallest of ways.

I shared a bit more about hygge and how it fits Cozy & Rych on my Instagram this morning, if you're interested.

I wish everyone the coziest 2023!

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A post shared by Jenn & Matt (@cozyandrych)

Carpet Limbo & Stomach Fires.

Hiya.

I'm having a limbo kind of morning, and sat down to write...and suddenly felt drawn here instead of my current project. So, let's see what comes out?

We're having carpet installed today. 

When we moved into this house 12 years ago, there had been this scratchy sort of berber stuff in our living room that wasn't the least bit comfortable and smelled a lot like dogs. We didn't really want to take on the expense of replacing it at the time, but felt like we needed to. And the universe delivered on its message that we should when our 16 month old dumped a five gallon bucket of white ceiling paint right in the middle of the room. Which, was obviously awesome.

So we listened and we put this stuff in and thought we were living large - it was top of the line in stain proof abilities and so much softer than what had been there. But it was unfortunately brown (I don't even remember picking this color?!) and after more than a decade of kids and pets, it's been getting wrinkly and pulling up in places and it was just time.

(We're also getting all new windows in a couple weeks as Matt was on a very "let's make everything nice at the same time and have the best, coziest winter situation possible" crusade.)

So anyway, they scheduled the install today without telling us what time it would be.

They've been very casual about this whole thing. Very, "yeah sure we'll bring you some carpet," and we're over here like okay so.....when? This is clearly a much bigger deal to us than it is to them. What, with a couch currently taking up the entirety of my kitchen and my dining room holding basically every other piece of furniture we own. 

So, I've just been kind of...sitting around...waiting for word. Trying not to focus too hard on my stomach burning.

I started a new medicine last night that I was told to take halves of for the first week to reduce side effects. Seconds after taking it, my entire esophagus started burning and my mouth started watering like throwing up was imminent. I chugged water thinking maybe it got stuck on the way down, which wasn't likely since it was teeny tiny, and the burning just kept getting worse. I started eating hunks of bread and more water, then tried ice cream. It was barely doing anything to help. It felt like...the worst acid reflux I've ever had with a side of ultra soreness. I started to panic a little because it was just getting worse and worse and I couldn't seem to control it. After several more glasses of water, I ended up sleeping upright and the pain slowly moved down towards my stomach. 

It's mostly gone today, but my stomach just feels...off. Slightly burny. Kind of like there's a small fire kindling in there. Just enough to be annoying. And after being up too late, tossing things down my throat to try and smother the fire, I slept through my alarms and right up to the point where I had to start packing lunches and helping kids out the door. So, I'm unsettled.

When the carpet is finished, I have to put my living room back together. No idea how long it will take them. Then I'll hopefully get a chance to put myself together, and possibly a few dozen loads of laundry. (How does it accumulate so damn fast? I hate it.) 

We have plans tonight with a group of Luke's friends and their parents, and I'm looking forward to it. The pandemic made me extra anti-social, and I've been trying to figure out how to emerge into life a bit more here and there. (I still don't like it, but, it also doesn't feel great to always be on the outskirts of everything.) I'm also usually the coordinator of plans such as these (we're doing a fire and a haunted hayride), and it was really nice to be invited to something like this that someone else is planning. My brain is too frazzled right now to juggle planning myself.

Sigh, which reminds me, there's so much going on. It's not stuff that I really want to talk about - I'm talking about it enough in therapy and it's super terrifying and uncomfortable and like, one of my worst nightmares level of sucky. I mean, I do share some of it on my Instagram because I'm trying to do this whole thing where I actually talk about some of the things I'm writing about so that, I don't know, maybe 4 people someday have the satisfaction of journeying along with me. (I do seem to have wonderful conversations with people every time I bring up the hard stuff, and I not only had one of these chats with a new connection last week, but opened up a new line of support between us that is just..invaluable kinda stuff.)

I'll talk about it eventually. I'm not sure I'd be able to avoid bringing it up, anyway, but graciously this is all still in the future (not very far in the future, but still, not here and now thankfully). So...I'll get there.

Excuse my balancing act of wanting to talk through things and also feeling not fully ready for the details. I don't mean to be cryptic or whatever, but my inner circle knows the details and that's all I'm really ready for. I guess the point is: there's big scary stuff happening soon and it's painting over all the other things going on in life, lately. Everything feels harder and heavier and scarier. 

Wait, can we swing back to the carpet again?

I just want to say, in case you're thinking I'm crazy: I love the cozy softness of carpeting, but I don't necessarily love the look of it. If I had it my way, and the oodles of money to make it perfect in here, I wouldn't have replaced this carpet with more carpet. 

There's perfectly wonderful original 1950's hardwood under it (I know!), but it needs serious refinishing, which would require refinishing the whole house. There's hardwood laminate in the kitchen and dining room that would be the wrong color and the wrong direction so that would need to be fully replaced, the bedrooms would need to be refinished, too (those do have the hardwood), and suddenly we'd be going wild on every room in the house and bleeding money everywhere. It just wasn't feasible for our plans.

IF we can ever find a house that we don't get outbid on by a cash offer, we plan to hang onto this house for our kids (home ownership is not looking so likely for their generation), and renting it until that day comes. Money and labor and future plans and all that considered (plus you know, a dog and cats and 3 will-be teenage boys), it just made the most sense to go with a nice carpet with a nice pad and enjoy the coziness.

We picked a greige that's brighter and slightly lighter than what we have (but not too light, see: kids and pets). I just know I'm going to see it when they're finished and want to drive to Lowe's immediately to get paint for all the trim in the living room. I've always planned to do it, but this *might* light a fire under my ass. 

Anyway. They're here now. I'm hanging out in my library with my dog (she was barking her face off at them), and my stomach is burning and I'm wishing I could go up there and steep some peppermint tea. Sigh. Life is just so weird these days. Not all bad, mind you - just weird.

I really wanted to get some writing done today, but the banging above my head is just a touch distracting. Not ideal for reading, either. Which is why I'm still here rambling. Hope you were in the mood for some stream of consciousness nonsense!

Did any of us ever actually get over Angel?

I'm finding it impossible to write anything about myself these days.

I did it for decades - on one blogging platform or another. Daily, at times. But it became tedious. At some point, you had to start using subheadings and breaking your posts into bite-sized chunks to make it lazier to read. (Don't forget the gorgeous visuals.) And then everything you had to say had to come with a tutorial or a recipe to make it pin-able. What was the point of saying anything if you couldn't find a reason to add it to Pinterest?

Eventually, every thought needed to fit into an Instagram caption. And then it needed to be read to you or shown to you in video because, who has the attention span for reading anymore?

Pretty soon, YouTube videos became too long-form, and in walked TikTok and Instagram stories, and now Reels. (Reels are the worst of the bunch!)

And I'm not boo-hooing or bah-humbugging any of it. I'm not anti-technology or change or growth. I have fun with all of it. (Except you, reels - you can go to hell.) 

It's that there is no joy, no passion, no fun, in formatting what I have to say or share to fit the tiny little bits and pieces of what our brains now deem consumable. When I consider pouring my heart out into a post and then finding a way to chop it up and pre-chew it and slap a fitting filtered photo into the middle of it, it feels exhausting. So I don't bother.

And it sucks a little, because I always have so much to say.

I suppose it's kind of liberating. Knowing that my blog isn't consumable enough for the masses so I can sort of slip into obscurity right in front of everyone. I suppose that has its merits. But I also sometimes wish for the type of camaraderie I don't have to pay for. (Don't get me wrong, I love my therapist, but there's something gritty and deeper about chatting at will with someone that might get it without being trained to understand getting it, ya know?)

So. Anyway. 

I've been writing things through fictional means instead. And through the slow, meandering process of junk journaling. (I only learned what it was this summer and have since jumped in head-first and now have a gold colored journal filling up that almost feels like a work of art. Obsessed.)

But I'm here, because I'm trying (at a lot of things), and while the world may have moved on, I still love blogs. And I miss it.

It's been a sweltering, humid day, and now that it's dark, I'm sitting here with an ice pack on the top of my head, thinking about life. I've been struggling with a bizarre hormone migraine this week while slogging through back to school preparations, and I'm pretty beat. Physically, mentally...with this world. All of it.

I'm just tired.

And I guess the stars aligned in such a way that I am meant to get weary and maudlin about my birthday. (Something my therapist and I discussed this week, actually.) With only two days left, it's settling over me. The things I'm leaving this year with and without. The things I hope I get to harvest from the next. The overarching sadness of feeling like at a core level, I am wildly disconnected from the majority and not understanding why. 

It's just all kind of a bizarre existence at the end of the day, isn't it? Even after 37 years and 363 days, I feel like I barely grasp it. It doesn't all align. That's probably my neurodivergent brain talking. But it all just feels so...disorienting. The idea that we've been all these different versions of ourselves and the little reminders that take you back to a different one of them, or that show you certain things that were always meant to be. The older I get, the more I feel like time is such an unknowable thing - or that we've been really sold on this linear idea when it's really just always buzzing around you in different forms.

Or maybe it's the headache talking, who knows.

Lately I've been watching old Buffy episodes like I'm 13 again. The way it's transporting me...I don't know, maybe that's really to blame for my confusion. I'll say this, though. For all the things they say that they shouldn't say and the plethora of 90's babydoll graphic tanks, one thing stands: David Boreanaz can get it.

A Life Update

It's a good thing no one comes here to keep track of me. 

I say all the time that I'm going to keep this updated, and I've got plans for doing that, but life is relentless. (That, and I have multiple hyperfixations right now.)

So, what's new?

I'm not even sure where to start.

My last real life update (other than sharing our covid experience) was back in January, when the kids went back to in-person school. Yikes. SO much has happened. Leeet's get into it.

The Best Trip to the Most Magical Place

In February, we went on what was supposed to be our, "hurray, covid is over!" celebration vacation. Our assumptions, as most are regarding covid, were wrong, but we lucked out. The first surge of omicron was down to almost nothing at the time of our travel, we were all vaxxed up, and we were still able to go. It was a big, 12-day, multi location trip with 8 nights and 5 park days in Disney World. We had the *best* time. Maybe I'll go into more detail one day - if I ever feel like doing that much work and letting my Disney side have a piece of my blog. For now I'll just leave it at: I miss it, we made some serious core memories that week, and I wish I had DVC kinda money.

The Viruses Won't Leave Us Alone

I'm sniffling as I write this, because I'm wrapping up another cold-allergy-something. To be fair, this is only my second one since I had covid in early March. However, since that day, someone in my household has had something. We might have had one week off in there somewhere? But yes, March and April were germ city and May hasn't been much better. We all know about covid, but wtf is the rest of this? Why is EVERYTHING aggressive right now? SO over it.

The Inevitable Found Us Again

That's what I'd called it when we got covid. But there was another inevitability that we could see coming for our family for a while, and it finally arrived in April. Odin, my 18 year old, white-fluffed best friend passed away. He'd been sick for a while, and rapidly fell apart in his final week. We did get to celebrate his 18th birthday together, and we covered him in love to the best of our ability. But oof, this was hard. Rocked my world. Odin was a fixture throughout my entire adult life, and to lose him was to close a circle of my identity. He comes to me in dreams sometimes, now. He's usually just perched somewhere, often in a box (lol, typical), watching me. I'd like to think that in my dream state, I'm able to witness how he's looking out for me now - guardian style.

As Is Typical, I Can Never Pick Just One

I'm writing three books. Actually, five. Low-key more than that. But let's go with three, because I am giving constant, daily attention to three of them. I never used to say these things out loud because I've always had some writing project or another that I felt abandonment coming for (uhh I have like thirty 50-page drafts just hanging around...whoopise). But I am mad-scientist style writing on a daily basis. Like to the point where my entire life crumbles around me and I forget to defrost anything for dinner and time warps into this unknowable thing. I write for a while before my kids get up, and then I write the second I get back from drop offs and I'm shocked when pickup time arrives seemingly five minutes later. I've mentioned my dental fear book before (if you've never taken my survey for that it's in the margin, I'd love it if you'd check it out!), but I also have a novel that I'm only a couple weeks from sending off to my first beta reader. Don't even know how that happened, but here we are. And then I have an old book I've rescued from the pit of unfinished drafts that I'm polishing up to begin a collaboration on. 

It's wild. I wasn't sure I'd actually get here. I've never had such clarity - such a plan of attack. Such dedication. It's thrilling.

I'm Building a Whole Ass Library

This one's kinda fun. One morning, I was sitting on the love seat in my living room, sipping my coffee and staring out the window. Matt and I'd just had a conversation about the real estate market and how we maybe need to chill for a while (and put our long moving aspirations on hold), and I was wistfully saying goodbye to my dreams of an in-home library when it dawned on me. I can still have one. We'd refinished a room recently to create a home office for Matt, and it freed up his old work corner for whatever we wanted it to be. In a split second, I was on my feet declaring that it was going to be my library, come hell or high water. I immediately got to work. Like, a couple sips later. In the spare moments when I'm not writing, I've been sorting, purging, shredding, moving boxes, vacuuming, disinfecting-wiping everything in my basement. It's a long process, but it's getting there. I can't wait to share it. (This has also taken my book shopping habit from, "Oh no, I'm running out of nooks to shove these into!" to "Mama's got bookshelves to fill!") Photo is from my public library - my actual library will be way more vibey.

 

Even Therapists Can Gaslight You

I'm starting a new treatment with a new therapist this week. Tomorrow, actually. I'd been cruising along in therapy, paying a stupid amount of money to vent about my anxieties while being given no actionable solutions and having none of my problems solved (or even progressed). When I spoke up about it, it got messy. I ended up speaking with the owner of the clinic, and found out that my therapist was telling us two different things on a regular basis. It was kind of a slap in the face - to find out that my therapist was the kind of flawed that she'd lie to keep her job, even if it was to the detriment of her patient. So the lesson is this: therapists are people, too. And they often come to their jobs with their own mental, emotional, and developmental deficiencies. We're all human at the end of the day, but we should all stop trying to show up to things that we don't actually have space for. When we do that, we give others the impression that they can count on us when they really can't. Not fair. 

My Fish Kid is on a Swim Team

While all of my kids love swimming, I have one that would willingly prune his entire body on a daily basis if he could. When we went to Disney, he liked the pools better than any attraction. When he's in the water, he looks like he belongs there. Which is weird, because I'm the opposite - I freaking hate water. I don't know where he gets it. We've chatted and researched and we found a summer program for him to give competitive swimming a shot. I am...not the most thrilled about the daily early morning wake ups, and neither is he, but I'm confident this will be worth it. When you ask him what he wants to be when he grows up, he says Michael Phelps. So, we'll find out soon if he's got the chops. (Or, the fins.)

 

It's Been 84 Years 

Just kidding, it's only been twenty. But that makes me feel impossibly old. To be able to say I did anything twenty years ago speaks to some damn life experience. To say that's when I finished high school is just straight bonkers. There's some sort of sloppy rag-tag reunion planning going down because our class government is MIA, and I have no plans to participate. But a small group of friends that I've managed to hang onto for these past couple decades are chatting about doing our own little thing. That feels exciting. I just can't even believe it's been that long. Life comes at you fast.

Sooo that's about it. 

Nothing wild, but that's what's filling my time. I'm also starting to make some summer plans despite the fact that our schools will still be in session for an impossibly long time. (If your kids go to one of those schools that's wrapping up this week, please don't tell me, I can't handle it. We have weeeeks to go.)

So far we've got a camping trip on the books, a mini 20 year reunion, and a return of the Camp Readaway read-a-thon I birthed last summer. (Plus, all those daily early morning trips to the pool for my swimmy kid. Currently accepting Tim Hortons and Starbucks gift cards.)

Hope you enjoyed this sign of life. Maybe I'll make it back here again soon.  

When the Inevitable Finds You.

It's been a long, weird two years. 

Most of it filled with anxiety and grief. Sure, there were long lazy mornings spent on Animal Crossing islands, more outdoor minutes than ever before, and for a beat - a sourdough starter to be fascinated by. 

But it was lonely, and divisive, and confusing. And as we approached evidence that a return to normal-ish was finally possible, I assumed that the good, bad, and all the in-between of the pandemic experience was coming to a close. 

I don't know, maybe it still is.

But not for me and my house.

Because last Tuesday morning, my eight year old walked into school and caught covid. I mean - I can't say that for sure. There are other avenues of exposure he went down last week. But based on his Thursday symptoms and omicron's 48 hour incubation, it's a safe bet.

What was really fun, was following in his footsteps about 10 hours later.

The pinnacle of our enjoyment was when the other three members of our household had to pack up their things and rush out of the house lest those spike proteins dug themselves into their A2 receptors as well.

(Very grateful that covid did not disintegrate the sarcasm center of my brain.)

Last weekend was a flaming heap of garbage. Both my little guy and I have been sicker in the past, for certain, but not being able to freely breathe through your own nose is never a good time. Not to mention, knowing that you're carrying a novel virus that will wreak unknown havoc on your body for who knows how long makes it the scariest stuffy nose of your life.

So. We did our best to remain calm, but it wasn't easy. My mental health was in the shitter on day 4.

Turns out, the resulting sob fest was the key to my recovery. Tears, in enough quantity, act like a natural neti pot. (Follow me for more covid recovery tips!) My sinuses were never more grateful for my fragile emotional state. I've been on the up ever since. So, don't let anyone ever tell you that sitting on the floor crying and chanting "this is too hard" is pathetic. You're practicing medicine, babe.

For six days, I spent every waking moment with a sick eight year old, three high-maintenance cats, and a dog with separation anxiety that couldn't understand why half her pack was missing and spent 23 hours a day longingly looking out the window for them.

Here's what we did:

• Blew through three boxes of tissues. They filled a whole garbage bag.
  
  
• Watched the first two seasons of The Good Place together. It's really adorable to watch a kid make very, very incorrect predictions for what will happen next. Cutie doesn't know the sitcom patterns yet! Adorbs.
  
  
• Had UberEats drop us some soup from Panera. Five stars for Shawn.
  
  
• Rarely put in the effort to shift from one set of pajamas to another.
  
  
• Shared a sick bed, but upside down. My dude was afraid to be in his room alone (he shares with his brother normally), but I didn't love the idea of us breathing covid back and forth all night. So I set him up head-to-feet, and he got a kick out of it. I also got a kick out of it - from his giant beyond his years flippers that he calls feet.
  
  

And, in the middle of the night, when I couldn't sleep and sniffled over cups of tea and cough drops, I decided that it was high time to keep up with the Kardashians. I went two damn decades not giving a rat's ass about what the hell they did in front of cameras for the past twenty years, and suddenly, at 3am, I needed to know. I've now watched hours of that garbage, and Kourtney still hasn't even given birth, Khloe is still using her weird baby voice, and Kim hasn't been married for 72 hours yet.

So.

Has this been the weirdest week of my life? You bet. 

This morning, there was a very chunky one-legged goose on my roof and I'm not sure what kind of sign that is, but I think I'm in the upside down? None of this feels real. I mean, in what world does a mom work her ass off to protect her family from a pandemic for two years, and then she gets it the very week "it's over"? The moment everyone is unmasking? What kind of plot is that? Who wrote this??

Am I in The Bad Place?

Back To School...in January.

I just got back from dropping my oldest two off at middle school.

It's a first for the younger one. He's never been. He hasn't seen the inside of a classroom since March 13, 2020 and back then he was a third grader. All snuggled up in his one cozy classroom with a teacher we knew well and trusted. Today was a much different feeling. A firm shove out of the nest - I struggle with those every time.

And I just can't settle on how I feel.

My youngest had his first day of in-school second grade on Monday. He said it was the best first day he'd ever had. His teacher did an amazing job of talking him up to the class and getting them involved in welcoming him, and the way he described the experience was like he was a low-key celebrity. They all wanted to sit next to him or stand in line next to him. One little girl made him a card. He's in excellent hands, and I couldn't have asked for a better return to help him adjust.

I'm grateful that I don't have to worry about that part of things. His teacher even managed to get his reading assessment done yesterday and said he's right on track. He's got this - academically and socially. My little firecracker youngest is incredibly likeable and friendly. My sparkly Scorpio.

My oldest, all routine and regimen, can figure out just about anything. (Albeit with a nervous gut, which already kicked in this morning.) He'll be back to topping the honor roll and navigating that school like the back of his hand before Friday. My predictable Capricorn.

My middle worries me the most. He's all emotion and overwhelm. He's frazzled in the face of organization and schedules, and doubts himself until the moment something is mastered (which he always fails to realize he's done until he's had it mastered for a while). He's all smiles and silliness and snuggles at home, and clawing to get back to me when he's not. My tender-hearted Cancer.

Unfortunately, their individual struggles are not the only things I have to consider. What I wouldn't give to go back to 2019 motherhood - when I only had to look out for them and their unique struggles.

Now, I'm also stressed about them getting sick. I always had to worry about that to some degree with my oldest and that finicky gut of his. And how every little sniffle became a big, lasting thing thanks to his struggling immune system. In a way, I'm used to this. But it's never been to this scale. 

I know we'll all be fine. But it's been a long, long two years of keeping everyone as safe as I possibly could, just to jump into a community that has more transmission than ever before. It seems like bizarre timing - especially if you know me in any personal capacity. Maybe you have questions.

It basically boiled down to this.

August and September were two of the most mentally difficult months of my life. I was having daily panic attacks and crying fits. I went back to therapy. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Inattentive type ADHD. I lost my Grandpa. If I wasn't overwhelmed with grief, I was overwhelmed with curriculum and lesson planning and scheduling. Despite weeks of settling into homeschooling, my kids were very unwilling students in general. It was hard to get them to take me seriously as their teacher (it's just a different relationship when you're not used to it), and I had nothing in the tank. 

My daily life consisted of: hours of teaching unwilling students, hours of lesson planning and school prep, dishes, laundry, cleaning up the mess of 5 people never ever leaving the same 1200 square feet, ordering groceries, and constantly cooking. There was no time for anything else - other than the occasional shower and 20 minutes to read. I felt like a shell of a human. I felt like a mindless caretaker with no worth other than to make everyone else's lives happen. And I'm always happy to take care of my family - but it was ALL I did. It became the ONLY thing I consisted of. And to have that become my reality after nearly two years of already feeling stretched thin? I wasn't doing well.

So I made the decision to send my kids back after the holidays, once they were fully vaccinated. At the time of the decision (early November), it made perfect sense. I put my head down and finished all of our plans and units for the rest of 2021. I focused my energy on cultivating a fun and memorable holiday season. My boys got their shots and Matt and I got our boosters. But then...omicron. 

And yeah...I've questioned my sanity over going through with it about 700 times.

But at the end of the day, the transition was perfect academically and socially right now. They're returning at the same time everyone else needs to get used to being back at school again. And, they have a 3 week buffer before the second semester begins. Which means their grades won't be held against them while they readjust to school. They will get a "not enough data" grade on their report card that gets adjusted for their late start. Not to mention, there are several other kids (according to their counselors) who either started right before the break or are also starting this week because of their vaccine status. They're in good company.

So I decided to trust their vaccines and masks and hope for the best. And yes, I spend basically every moment wondering if I'll regret that. But what I think is right for them and what I know society will someday require of them are different things, and sometimes I have to make decisions that don't feel fully right to me in order to set them up for success. (And also, our society is stupid - the fact that we sometimes have to ignore mother's intuition to help our kids succeed is a red flag - but that's a chat for another day.)

Anyway, that's where we're at. KTU has closed it's operations for now. I'm thankful to at least get my dining room back. The rest is yet to be determined.

22 for 2022 (with skepticism).

 

I really don't know what to say about 2022 just yet.

Does anyone not have trust issues at this point? Since late 2019, every time my life has felt like it needed a little push or nudge or decluttering and I get my ducks in a row, something steps in the way to destroy it. Usually another variant. So for nearly two years now, I've been on a roller coaster. 

It usually looks like this.

1. Okay, we can ride this out and follow the suggestions.
2. Wait, why are we the only ones doing it?
3. Oh cool, here's an actual date on the calendar when things will be in better shape, we're good.
4. Just a hint of normalcy - almost there!
5. NEW VARIANT (or, schools don't want to help anymore, or, CDC says 'you're on your own!')
6. Panic, over-think, cry.
7. Okay, I think we've settled on a new solution.

Repeat steps 1-7. And again. (Probably again.)

Around and around it's gone. I want off this ride...bad.

There is so much that's entirely uncontrollable right now that is creating all of this chaos. And it makes me incredibly hesitant to plan anything, because my biggest takeaway so far is...plans are pointless. Laughable. Wildly fragile. But at the same time, I've got stuff to do! I've got things to go after and an identity beyond just making my family's lives possible. There was an actual ME before this stupid situation, and I am so tired of telling her to just wait. (Please have extra grace for your family and friends that have had school-age kids and younger through this pandemic, we're super not okay.)

Every time I think about my goals and how I want to spend my time this year, I get this burning sense of guilt in my stomach. My kids are going back to school this week. One of them starts today, the others start tomorrow. They're as safe as they can be at this point and the timing is a contradictory mess of perfect and the worst. I haven't had an empty house and time to myself in 22 months. TWENTY TWO MONTHS. (Interesting number, considering what I'm about to share.)

So half of my mind is excited for the space and possibilities, and the other half wants to throw up knowing that I'm getting those things because I'm putting my kids into the most dangerous situation they've been in in the past two years. I just want to cry.

Sigh, this really isn't how a new year's goals post is supposed to go.

But welcome to my brain these days. I haven't tidied up. This is what it's like in here full-time. Contradictory back and forth on a constant loop, occasionally spiraling into a panic attack and an SOS call to my therapist. And I'm leaving it here...because my most fervent hope is that next year, my new year posts look nothing like this.

(I hope I hope I hope.)

I don't trust you, 2022. But there's a chance - a sliver of possibility - that you won't suck quite as badly as your preceding years. I'm not going in with gusto...you've got to prove it to me this time.

Instead of an energized, sparkling list of dreams and productivity, I give you...my tissue-paper thin collection of things I'd like to get to if life decides to stop taking a giant dump on all of us.

1. Share a freebie once a month.
2. Read the ACOTAR series.
3. Do Yoga with Adriene's Move series.
4. Read 55 books.
5. Track a moon month (or two).
6. Have a monthly embroidery project.
7. Finish my book draft.
8. Work out 12x a month.
9. Finally read and study a course in miracles.
10. Make a birthday card list and don't miss anyone.
11. Complete the BOTM reading challenge.
12. Make a kitchen update design and plan.
13. Make an embrace winter list.
14. Declutter 22 items a month.
15. Self-publish something new.
16. Focus on my TBR (read at least 20 books I already own).
17. Plan a date night once a month.
18. Stamp all my books with my library stamp.
19. Sell some stuff on ebay - try to make $500.
20. Keep a grimoire journal.
21. Say yes to outdoor activities I don't want to do once a month.
22. Do Gretchen Rubin's #Rest22in22 (because I freaking deserve it).

If I even do two of these, it'll be a win.

It was a Christmas.

I've always been a "Christmas person". Probably because my mom was one. We didn't have much when I was growing up, but we did have strings of lights and hot chocolate mix and an Amy Grant Christmas CD. We had construction paper to make up the bulk of the decorations, and a TV to watch the televised Christmas specials. Mixed with the abundant Buffalo snow, we had everything we needed.

And it's normal, of course, for Christmas to change as you get older. It's changed many times for me. There were years with swapping custody arrangements, years with more or less gifts than others, years in new homes or apartments. And eventually, as an adult it changed entirely. Matt and I created our own traditions when we came together - ones that changed yet again when we had kids to celebrate. That particular change is my favorite one. It's just as fun making the holiday about them as it once was for me. 

And I think we can all agree that Christmas has changed these past couple of years.

For most, last year was Christmas through a screen. We never left the house. We "visited" family through zoom and made the most of a small, quiet holiday. This year, while a lot of normal returned, there was also a lot that felt different. Everyone was pandemic tired. Everyone seemed exhausted, worried, hesitant. Our Christmas Eve plans (that have been steady for the last 11 or so years) took place in a new house. And most notably, we were down a family member. 

I never wrote about it here (busy in my pit of despair), but my Grandpa passed away in September. He is one of my favorite people on the planet. My life has felt overwhelming for a while now - a fact that kept me from sharing as much life as I would have liked to with him in recent years. But it was always a comfort just to know he was over there, stationed at the top of Pekin hill, puttering around the house. Knowing that his mind existed. Knowing that his drawings and corny jokes spilled out of him, knowing that his lighthearted and goofy personality was adding to the social fabric of this world. It all gave me more understanding and belonging than anything else did. To lose him was incredibly heartbreaking and disorienting. 

He pulled me out of the darkest part of my loss himself. A couple weeks after his passing, he came to me in a dream. He was full of light and peace and adventure. Happiness. He brought me to his home and showed me his love for my Grandma. And when I woke, I was still tender hearted and lost, but with a new sense of purpose. I would strive to love my family the way he loved all of us. It was his legacy. And I will never live up to it. Impossible. No one has his light. But I've been striving and determined to try. In thousands of small ways, but in bigger ones, too.

I invited my Grandma over for dinner a couple days before Christmas. We did things as safely as we could (considering the state of the virus currently), and I worked my butt off to make a magical, cozy Christmas setting for her to get away to. We all wore our Christmas pj's, and there were treats and gifts and photos. But my favorite was something small.

My kids and I had studied a lot of history and traditions surrounding the Christmas holiday as part of our homeschool curriculum. We'd recently learned about Christmas crackers and their popularity in Europe, and I found a set of 8 (the perfect amount for our guest list that evening), from the same brand name as the person who had popularized them. Just before we began to eat, we all cracked them open on a count of three, sending little trinkets and tissue paper crowns flying around the room. After marveling at how bizarre some of the gifts inside had been (a shoe horn? a pair of tweezers?? a strange little spring on a key ring???) and donning our flimsy crowns, we all unearthed the jokes inside.

They were bad, corny, silly jokes. The kind my Grandpa loved to share. The kind that would make him do that breathy, no-sound laugh that preceded the loud, belly laugh. As we each took turns reading them out, my Grandma's true laughter filled the air. The exact genuine laugh you'd expect to hear after one of my Grandpa's jokes. With each joke, I got closer to tears. Both because it felt like we'd found a way to bring my Grandpa to the table, and because I didn't realized how conditioned I was to hear my Grandpa's laugh immediately following my Grandma's. It should have been there. It should have come next. He should have been the one telling the jokes, and he should have been there to be delighted by how much we loved the ridiculousness of them. The combination of grief and joy in that moment, happening simultaneously, will leave it ingrained in my memory forever. 

We talked only briefly about the lack of my Grandpa this Christmas. My Grandma told me how sometimes life made no sense without him in it, and how she sometimes catches herself thinking he'll be home any minute. I walked her around the house to show her every spot where I have photos of him hanging, or pieces of his art, so she knows how large a place he takes up in our hearts, too. And ya know, overall, we managed to have a happy night. It wasn't about the loss or the sadness - it was about celebrating what we still had. Though I know, having put myself in her shoes for a moment, that inside she was probably still aching. 

I loaded my Grandma up with a bag of comfort to leave with that night. Some new slippers, the softest kind of blanket, a sweater seemingly made of actual clouds, and a bag of butterfingers (one of her favs). I wanted to wrap her up in things that felt as close to love as possible, though I hope the hugs and I love yous from my boys did the most for her heart. 

When she left, she thanked me for everything and told me how beautiful everything was. The last thing she said was, "God, it was good to get out."

She had told me before how hard it is some days to look around the house that she shared with my Grandpa for so many decades and not get lost in thinking about him. It must be such a conflict of emotion - to feel at home there, where you made all those memories, but also now feel imprisoned by all the reminders. You might think that the instinctual feeling is to be home for Christmas, but how does that change when home can't offer you the same type of Christmas it used to? For years upon years. 

I hadn't spent Christmas with my Grandparents in a long time. We used to, when I was very little. And eventually our family started doing a big Christmas Eve party that my Grandpa only sometimes came to. The last time I remember him being at one was probably 2005 or 2006 (though I didn't live here again until 2010 so he may have gone to more). Eventually, my Grandma stopped coming, too, so she could be at home with him. And because of the many many stops we make each year to give my kids the Christmas they have become accustomed to, I was rarely able to see them. So it's not so much that my Grandpa was newly missing from my holiday - it was that the kid in me was over the moon about getting to spend it with my Grandma, and didn't expect how much I'd notice my Grandpa's absence. 

I also didn't expect things to feel so surreal.

We were all incredibly excited to have a togethery kind of Christmas after last year's experience, but I couldn't help but feel a cloud of nervousness hovering over every moment of it. What a strange world to live in - where the people you love could also be unknowingly carrying something that could harm your kids. I tried very hard not to get singularly focused on that, but I couldn't help but think of it constantly. My anxiety disorder rears its ugly head at even the happiest times in my life.

I tried my best to soak in the little things. Another favorite from our holiday: my boys woke up around 6:30. We had to pass some time before my mom arrived, so we decided to let the boys give the gifts they'd purchased themselves. They'd worked so hard! They did chores to earn money and chose things that they knew would mean a lot to each person, and they couldn't wait to hand them out. The looks of pride on their faces and the returning joy from each recipient was so, so sweet. They exchanged genuine thank yous and hugs, and while I kind of wish I'd filmed it now so I could see it all again, I instead sat back and soaked it all in. It was the best gift. In the end, they are my Christmas.

Welcome to KTU (I guess we're homeschoolers now.)

I wonder when the morning buses going by will stop making me sad.

You know what the kicker is? My kids never rode them. Aside from the occasional field trip, they just weren't bus kids. First because I was neurotic and couldn't believe that my car-seat sitting Kindergarteners were just supposed to slide into big benches on a long tin can with wheels. But then it was because I saw how long it took for the buses to reach our unfortunate "last stop before the depot" location. Rather than have them take a daily tour of our town while their homework sat undone in their backpacks, I picked my boys up each day so we could spend that time burning energy on the playground. It was also my chance to speak to other adults for five minutes.

I didn't particularly like being my own sort of bus driver - my day bookended by trips through annoying car lines, interrupting whatever project I had going on at home. But I did like to toss them a final "I love you" at the last possible second before they started their day. And I loved to see their excited, smiling faces as they raced towards me at dismissal. 

And maybe it's those things I'm really missing when the buses whiz by. The buses were always there while I did my taxiing, of course. I guess they've become big, diesel-scented, banana hued reminders of all that my kids are missing out on.

There's always this moment on the last day of school where the buses drive around in a loop in the parking lot, honking their horns, little hands waving out of all of the open windows as all the teachers and staff and parents stand on the sidewalk and cheer, blow bubbles, and say goodbye to the kids for the Summer. It's stupidly emotional, and I've stood there and watched it with my kids every year. 

The year my oldest left elementary school was a particularly emotional one. It was 2019. I stood there next to the school attendance clerk (who knew us well because of said oldest son's health complications), and she looked down to my littlest who would soon be a Kindergartener and said, "this will be for you next year, right?" I have it on video because I was recording the whole ordeal. 

Turns out, it didn't happen for him the next year - because it was 2020. And it didn't happen the June after that, either. And this school year, when it happens in 2022, he won't be there to see it.

And it's stupid, and inconsequential, and I highly doubt that when my boys have grown into men and are looking back 20, 30, 40 years into their childhood - it's not going to be the last day of school bus parade that their memories land on. It's ME that those moments are special for. It's ME who is sad that such a sweet little spectacle was stolen from their school experience. But understanding that doesn't take the sadness out of the situation. Or the mild anger I have over the way life lately has just endlessly plucked this thing and that thing away from my boys' lives. 

It's only mild anger because (if I do say so myself), I'm pretty fantastic at making the proverbial lemonade. I love getting creative and making sure my kids get a memorable, celebratory experience for every holiday and milestone at our disposal. In fact, while they were certainly different and a little lonely, last year's Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas were some of my favorite holidays on record. I'm not sure if my kids feel the same? But I do know they were still smiling and making memories and given everything I could possibly give them while still keeping them safe. 

I guess I just never thought that school itself would be totally removed from their lives.

I mean, okay...they still have school. Just, very different school. They now have taught-by-mom-at-the-kitchen-table school. They're not getting up early and groaning while they get their hair combed before being stuffed into coats and then cars before rushing off to greet their friends and incredible teachers. They're not a part of the community in the way they once were. They're not growing their friendships through unique daily interactions. And yeah - there are pros and cons to all of that! From the tiny bits (like not having to wear a mask all day) to the big bits (like missing out on the school events and clubs). It's just...taking a while to come to terms with it on all sides. I think more for me than for them.

Maybe because I went through the entire institution. It feels odd to me as an adult who spent ages 4-21 in classrooms Monday through Friday, navigating life as it was laid out for me. But before cracking a single book this school year, my kids were already used to swerving. They did the whole asynchronous thing at the end of 2020. Then they did the full days on a chromebook virtual thing last year. They're used to swerving. It's ME that's struggling.

My youngest told me that while he remembers what school looks like inside, he doesn't remember what it's like to do a school day. And it's the things like that that worry me. What happens if he's ready go back next year and he starts third grade with the school adjustment capabilities of a mid-year Kindergartener? What happens when my middle son jumps into middle school a year after his classmates already figured out how the whole middle school thing works? What happens to my oldest when he's gearing up for High School with friends that have moved on without him? Those are the things that keep me up at night.

But I made the homeschool decision anyway. 

My therapist reminds me that even though it was a choice, it wasn't just a "because I wanted to" thing. My hand was forced by covid. And I'm trying to see it that way, as though it really wasn't my choice, but it's hard when most parents around me scoff at the very idea of homeschool. So, so many community parents have weighed the options and the risks and came out in favor of traditional school, and at times that makes me feel crazy. Like, why didn't my calculations come out like theirs? What am I not seeing?

As a sort of meeting-in-the-middle result, I had hoped that the district would change its mind and offer a virtual program again this year. I guess I mostly wanted that so they'd stay on track with their curriculums and classmates and still get to interact with teachers in their schools. But if I'm being honest, despite our wonderful teachers, virtual school was kind of terrible. Helping my kids navigate three separate but congruent schedules was like spinning plates and juggling at the same time. And they certainly hated sitting still and staring at a screen for hours every day. In actual execution, homeschool wins over virtual school in most areas. And so far, my kids have been motivated and waking up with smiles on their faces as their bodies rather than their clocks tell them what time to stop sleeping. I've watched them taking interest in things and learning things as we explore and study and create. When I set my sadness down for a minute, I often see that this is kind of amazing.

It's just that I'm a mom. And so I want everything, all of it, every last bit for my kids. I want them to have their cake AND eat it. I want to spin plates and juggle for them. I want them to have everything they need, plus everything they want, with sprinkles on top.

So while I wait for my mind to take its sweet time with acceptance, the buses make me sad. 

I sat near the window with my coffee this morning thinking that the first day I smile and think, "suckers!" as the morning buses go by will be the day I've gotten over it. Which will still be a coping mechanism, naturally, because a part of me will always be second-hand jealous for my kids. There's no off switch for that regardless of the subject. (Believe me, I've been looking for it for nearly 13 years.)

It all is what it is, and here we are. 

We named our homeschool Kitchen Table University (KTU for short), for obvious reasons. We declared that we are the "east campus," because my best friend of nearly 30 years is also homeschooling with her kids this year and they are just a few towns to the west. Having their family take the same unbeaten path as ours has been a comfort, for sure. 

So. I guess we're homeschoolers now.

Just Weepy Virgo Birthday Things.

Today's my last day being 36.

And as I tip pretty hard into the later-part of my 30's, I can't help but think back to a conversation I had with my husband - I guess about 7 years ago now.

It was the eve of my 30th birthday, and the first day of school was looming shortly after. My oldest son was set to start Kindergarten, and my middle son was off to preschool. It felt like a lot of change and milestones all at once, and I don't know...maybe it's the Virgo or the type 4 in me, but I usually already have some sort of sad wistfulness about my birthday. There are always birthday tears. I'm not even sure why? Sentimentality? Nostalgia? Regret? I don't even know. But it was set ablaze that year.

Matt reassured me by saying, "Don't worry - I really think your 30's are going to be your favorite."

I was skeptical. It wasn't even being 30 that concerned me. It was that we'd done so much in our 20's and I just couldn't see how the rest of life could top them. We'd gotten engaged and married, had three babies, bought two houses, adopted a dog and a cat, built our family traditions and established us as being US. It was all so exciting and...big. How could anything else be my favorite?

To which he said, "Well, think about it. All of that was exciting, but it was also really hard. In your 30's you'll have everything established with all of your boys under your roof and we get to make all the memories that they'll look back on as their childhood experience."

I hadn't thought of that. In my 40's, I'll be slowly saying goodbye to them as they become adults. My oldest when I'm 42, my middle when I'm 44, and my youngest when I'm 47. I'm likely to be an empty nester by 48. Yeesh, we'll cross that bridge later.

Except, I see it coming as I round the bend here at 37. And I'm realizing it won't be very long before I have a whole set of new things to get weepy about it.

Sigh. Birthdays are such a drag, man.

Just kidding. I'm excited for the day, truly. My men excel at making me feel special and loved. I'm just over here thinking all the things and getting ready to let my birthday tears loose...as a Virgo does.

I mean, there are some other things that have been up lately - and why my posts have ghosted recently.

For example:

• I started therapy for the first time as an adult. I used to go all the time after my parents' divorces, but I haven't hit the point of really and truly needing to reach out on my own until now. It was the frequency and intensity of panic attacks that pushed me to do it. So I'm now working with an incredibly well-paired professional on my extreme anxiety, and I hope to eventually get around to figuring out what type of neurodivergent I am. I have my suspicions.
  
  
• We're homeschooling. Yeah...that's a big nugget. It's a whole thing. I have so much to say in another post so I'll save it, but I'll just say that I didn't exactly see this coming and I have a lot (a lot a lot a lot) of mixed feelings. Therapyyyy.

I'm over here acting like there's lots to share but those have literally been the only two things going on in my life currently. They're big ones, though. Very consuming ones. So it's all just...a lot.

Anyway, I'll be back with more on the other side of 37. Hopefully I'll be less stereotypically maudlin by then. Happy Virgo season.

Last Minute Monday - Pt. 6

Sometimes I wish I could just shut everything out.

As a parent, though, I can't. I need to be informed and up-to-date to be able to make the best decisions for my kids. Because if we want to do better, we need to know better (and vice versa). Until they are old enough to make their own decisions and carve their own paths, I cannot bury my head in the sand. I can't ignorantly go on living my life as though nothing is amiss. (That's how we got HERE.)

But it's been really, really hard to be aware, lately.

I can't explain why things feel harder now than they did even a year ago. Maybe that's not a fair comparison - we always feel things with the most clarity in the moment, so I don't want to discredit the emotions I felt in all of 2020. I just think that...because I waited for my turn to get vaccinated, and gleefully celebrated my son with underlying health conditions getting his, and we've shared a mostly normal Summer with our family - current events are hurting extra-hard.

I was ready to send my kids back to school in September. I was ready to make holiday plans that were impossible last year. And instead, I've spent the last week emailing school board members and talking to other parents and keeping our distance outdoors "just in case". 

And I'm sad. Really sad.

I've been sad for a bit, but it really struck me yesterday.

Two weeks ago, we went swimming at my mom's house. It was like a small party. There were 11 us in and out of the pool, playing together, sharing snacks, taking pictures of the kids being kids. We even set a self-timer to take a group picture of all of us together. Yesterday, we took the boys back to my mom's to swim, and when we got there - everyone fled the pool like a bomb went off. We were alone. And I know it was for safety as the delta variant has made cases climb in our area. I know it was a smart move. But it was sad, and lonely, and a reminder of all that was stolen from us last year. 

If my younger kids (and my sister's kids) were old enough to get vaccinated, we wouldn't have to keep our distance. And I know that based on the studies and approvals, we should only be about 2-6 months away from having that rectified. That's such a short span of time compared to everything we've waited through already. But it still sucks.

It sucks to finally feel safe letting your kids hug their grandparents, and then cringe and wonder if you need to tell them not to do that anymore. (At least for now.)

And as the school year approaches and our governor is too wrapped up in scandal to provide guidance to our schools, I'm yet again at a loss for what to do with my kids. I wanted them to get back to their lives this school year. I wanted to have time for myself and my passions and projects. I wanted my dining room to stop doubling as a school room while we drown in papers and craft supplies. But with the data about delta emerging and reports from schools in the south coming out (example: a school district in Garland, TX has 31 staff members and 244 students testing positive for Covid after one week of school. 244 students!!! ONE WEEK!), I feel like I am starting at square one.

My district, as of this writing, isn't offering families anything other than traditional, in-person, 5 days a week school. We'd all love that in a perfect world, but that seems asinine to me in this climate. I can't believe that someone in power has yet to admit that in an uncontrolled pandemic world, education needs to take a back seat for a minute. Kids can catch up on nearly everything - if they're alive. 

On top of that, masks are in question?!

The only thing that has changed from the start of last school year until now is that the delta variant has made covid more contagious and dangerous to children. Why would we not do AT LEAST what we did last year? Why would our district take masks and virtual learning away when that's true?! This is not repeating last year or "winding back the clock" - delta is a brand new ball game that requires brand new mitigation efforts. They keep saying..."kids do better with in-person learning". DUH! But they also do better staying alive when they aren't stuffed in an overcrowded classroom full of their unvaccinated peers.

I am just...exasperated.

And look. This is my blog, so this is my space to vent about how I feel. And while I am always open for discussion, I won't entertain any thoughts that aren't following the science. So if you found your way here and don't trust the CDC, pediatricians, epidemiologists, or the covid vaccines, please take your thoughts elsewhere. They're not welcome in this space.

My Summer Morning Routine 2021

I'm not a fan of schedules, but without trying very hard I find that I end up creating routines in my days. They tend to change with the seasons, and if I try to organize them into an actual schedule - forget it, it's over. Won't do it. (I'm infuriating.)

I find it so interesting to both remember phases of life by documenting things like this, and to see how other people organize their days. I love reading posts and watching videos about this kind of thing, so I thought I'd share what my morning routine looks like this summer!

6:30 - 7:30am: Wake Up

I don't really sleep in a ton these days, so I'm nearly always awake before 8am. However, when my cat has anything to say about it, it's more like 5:30am (ugh) or when I can hear my family doing things around the house, I can't sleep through it. So this is a fairly typical Summer wakeup time for me.

    

I step into some slippers (these are my Summer pair). It's the little things like this that kind of romanticise the day, ya know? I spend a few minutes opening curtains, greeting pets, and making the bed before I make my way to the bathroom.

I always either brush my hair (if it's down), or shake it out and put it back up if I'd slept with it up. Then I brush my teeth, wipe my face with micellar water, and use my little rose quartz roller. 

My husband is kind of the greatest, and he always makes my coffee for me in the morning. This is mostly because he's always up before me in the Summer - there are phases of our year where I always make the coffee, too. He usually goes for a walk very early in the morning (often with one or more of our boys) before work, so he sets up the coffee pot for me so all I have to do is hit brew. If he knows I'm about to get up though, he hits brew for me. Either way...I step out of the bathroom to yummy hot coffee and it's one of the best parts of my day. 

7 - 7:30ish: Coffee/Journaling/Instagram
Next, I find a comfy spot to check in with my day. This usually happens outside on my patio swing, but if it's below 60 in the morning I usually pick the recliner. Sometimes I start with journaling, then I work in my notebooks where I keep track of appointments and plans we have, plus my blog and Instagram plans and notes, as well as my TBR lists.

With a sense of what I need to get done for the day, I hop on my Bookstagram. I start by catching up with anything I missed, then writing my post for the day, then sharing my new post and whatever else I feel like sharing to my stories. I scroll a little bit and like and comment on some of the other book accounts I follow, and generally invest some time into growing my account. I've had a goal to hit 1,000 followers before our Fall readathon, and as of this writing I have 927. You can see by the phone it grew quickly this day!! I bet by the time you're reading this, I'm already there! (fingers crossed!)

8 - 8:30ish: Reading (+ still Coffee)
If I haven't gotten time outdoors yet, I head there now to do my reading - unless of course it's raining. I need some outdoorsiness in my daily life!! I usually sit on my patio swing, but the sun has been kind of harsh there for reading lately, so I sat in one of our fire pit chairs on this day. I read non-fiction in the morning (usually spiritual, inspirational, self-help, human nature, psychology, creativity...things of that nature). And yeah, I'm still drinking my coffee at this point! I usually drink a lot at first, but then I savor the rest. I don't chug my coffee, and it's the only cup I have all day so I like to make it last!

I usually end up with a buddy wherever I end up reading. She follows me around all day!

   

9ish: Book Photos
If there are book photos I need to take for a blog or Instagram post I have planned in the next week or two, I like to do them in batches and early in the day. Partially because the lighting isn't too harsh, but also because if it's a nice morning, I can't trust that it'll stay that way all day. This is Buffalo and really anything goes weather wise! So I sorted through some of my boxes of books and carried a big stack outside to take pictures. The backdrop I like to use is feet away from my neighbors and I always think they must think I'm nuts!

9:30ish: Dishes/Kitchen

By now, my kitchen has been abused by three messy boys making breakfast and needs a little assistance. I'm not 100% diligent about it, but I also like to try and get dishes moving along in the morning. I do another round of them before I start making dinner. If I don't do dishes a minimum of twice a day, they spiral completely out of control. So I usually watch a show or listen to a podcast while I do the dishes to get them moving - this was my choice on this day, and it was a good one!

At this point in the morning, I switch to ice water and get ready to cook myself breakfast. We all pretty much fend for ourselves for breakfast, except for maybe one weekend day. I prefer it because I eat differently than my family for most of the day, and this helps me stay on track with my goals. I also prefer to eat around 10/10:30 (they all like to eat as soon as they get up) so the timing works out. And some days I just have a banana, but I often like to make eggs.

10:30ish: Breakfast
On this day, I made scrambled eggs with peppers, tomatoes, fat free cheddar, and mustard. (Adding mustard to my eggs has been the best food move I've made in a long time!! Try it!) I also had some turkey bacon, and a piece of low carb toast with my Dad's homemade black raspberry jam. 

10:30 - 11ish: Blogging
Finally, I get to sit down to do some blogging! I sometimes eat my breakfast while I get to work, and about twice a week I paint my nails as I get started. I always find they dry the easiest without bumping them into anything when I'm busy typing! I try to get 1.5 - 2 posts done each time I sit down to blog. I usually work at it until lunch, which is also usually when I get ready for the day or do things like go pickup groceries, do laundry, or whatever else needs to get done around the house.

So, this is an example of a day when I either have nowhere to be or my plans aren't until the afternoon. On days when we have plans, this looks a lot different, of course! My morning routine looked so much different during the (virtual) school year, and obviously different during normal school years! I'm looking forward to seeing how my mornings unfold as we hit Fall this year!