Yesterday, Charlie Mae and I went to Whole Foods together. As we were picking out avocados in the produce section, an adorable mom in a pretty sundress and her two kids came wheeling by. Her kids were super cute (of course) and as a family, they looked pretty close to perfect on their Sunday afternoon shopping trip. 

A few minutes later, as we bagged our produce next to one another, the mom and I struck up a little conversation about our kids (the usual baby-related small talk).

At one point as we were chit-chatting I said, “Two kids, wow! Now that I have one kid I have no idea how anyone does it.” I expected a generic, "Oh, yeah, it's hard but so great!" and instead, her reply was brutally honest: “Yeah, it’s insanity at all times. We're always a mess. Everyone warned me but I truly had no idea how impossible it would be.”

Once she had opened up, I felt free to do the same, and we had a wonderful short conversation about being a mom and how crazy it is (and how no one can ever prepare you for how frazzled and loopy you’ll feel almost all the time). Just as we were finishing up our conversation she gave me a knowing look and said, “Any mom who makes it look like she has it all together doesn’t. Trust me. None of us do.” 

What I loved so much about this little interaction is that one minute before, I had seen her and her kids and assumed that they simply had it down. She told me that she had felt the same way about me when she saw me and my “calm, happy baby just relaxing in her carrier.” 

Ha! We’d both seen each other and made immediate assumptions that were totally incorrect.

I had no idea that in the aisle before, her kids had been throwing raspberries at one another (because, as she explained, opening the fruit and eating it as they shopped was the only way to make it through the store). And she had no idea that while my baby looked super relaxed, she was actually just really tired because she woke up 1.5 hours earlier than usual and then took a crazy short morning nap (leaving us all feeling exhausted and overwhelmed). 

Because when you see someone and make a snap judgment based on the small moment of their life that you witness, you’re almost ALWAYS wrong. You have no context, so how could you possibly be right? But isn’t it funny how we immediately and almost unconsciously compare ourselves to the people that we come across in our daily lives—and how often we find ourselves lacking in these totally uninformed, quick calculations?  

Yesterday’s interaction was such a great reminder of so many things—how quick we are to judge ourselves negatively, how quick we are to make assumptions about others, and my favorite lesson of all, one that I need to be reminded of on a daily basis, it seems—how we’re all in this together. 

And by “this” I don’t just mean motherhood. I mean life. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: we’re all just muddling through doing the best we can and making a lot of mistakes along the way.

We all have to go to the grocery store, we all have to clip our toenails, we all have to buy more toilet paper when we run out, and we all have to clean up the gross stuff that collects in the kitchen sink drain thingy (unless you have a disposal, in which case, you actually don’t have to do this and I’m jealous!). We're all overwhelmed, sleep deprived, stressed, and sad at times. But we don't always talk about or project these feelings, and so no one knows what we're going through. 

No matter what we see in the store, on social media, or on TV, the little snippets of other people's lives that we observe in passing are just not the truth--or at least, not the whole truth. We don't know the entire story so when we compare ourselves to others we will always fall short.

But when we remember how we're all just doing our best and yes, sometimes falling short, but at other times, surprising ourselves by our ability to make it happen against all odds, we can connect with the beautiful mess of our everyday lives. 

I hope this little reminder is as helpful to you as it was to me yesterday.

Last summer, fresh off of our amazing Namaste Nantucket Yoga Retreat, my co-leader Laura and I were looking at our 2017 schedules in order to determine when we should offer the retreat again. We knew we wanted to make it a regular thing, but I was super pregnant at the time and somewhat nervous about scheduling for 2017, as I had no idea what life with a baby would look like.

We went back and forth, talked about options, and finally, I came the conclusion that I would be able to make September 2017 work ("The baby will be over a year at that point, so she won't need me as much and Ben should be comfortable staying home with her on his own..."), so we booked it. And advertised it. And started planning and receiving deposits. 

And then once I had Charlie Mae and the retreat began to creep closer every month,  I started to stress about it. When January of this year rolled around, the stress ratcheted up a notch: would I be ready to leave my baby for a week in just 8 months? She still hadn't taken a bottle at that point (and still hasn't, of course), and I was worried about making sure she was weaned by then. I didn't like the idea of having a hard and fast date by which I would have to stop breastfeeding and couldn't imagine being away from her for that long anytime soon.

However, I'd made a commitment and we'd already planned everything, so I pushed my worries aside and kept on moving forward.

But try as I might, every time I thought about the retreat--something I love doing--I felt a knot in my stomach and a sense of dread. How could I possibly do it? It felt overwhelming and crazy, but at the same time, I felt like there was nothing I could do because we'd paid the deposit, made it public, and accepted registrants. It was too late to change anything...right?

And then after weeks of internal gnawing, I finally realized what I had to do: I had to back-out. I had to "let people down" in order to take care of myself. Whether Charlie Mae would be ready by then or not, I could tell that I would not be ready; and even if I did end up ready, I knew that the months of stressing about it wouldn't be worth it.

So, I called Laura, and then called our fabulous retreat location contact, and emailed the retreaters who had already paid their deposits and guess what? It was all fine. Everyone understood and we didn't run into any issues. The retreat was far enough away that we were able to reschedule it for June 2018 and it's still happening--this time when Charlie Mae will be almost 2 and I know I'll be able to handle it. 

The thing that I want you to know about this whole debacle, though, is how good it felt to "fail" at meeting this commitment. It didn't feel good telling everyone that I needed to reschedule, and of course I hated letting people down, but in the end, it felt good because a ginormous weight was lifted off of my shoulders; the world kept spinning, it didn't make a huge impact on anyone's life except mine (because the retreat was still 8 months away, after all), and now I'll be able to give the retreat my FULL attention when it actually does happen in 2018. 

Over the years, I've spent a lot of time doing things that I don't want to be doing or shouldn't be doing--things that cause me great stress and make my life really hard--simply because I feel guilty and don't want to let people down. Although that wasn't  the case with this retreat because I really did want to lead it this year, I'm learning that letting people down in order to take care of myself (and my baby) is sometimes a must. 

No, I don't want to make a habit of it and I don't recommend that you do, either, but if you only back-out of things when absolutely necessary for your sanity, your family, or your health, it's okay. It really is. And kind people understand. They may be disappointed and that's totally fair, but they'll understand and won't hold it against you if you do it in the right way and are honest about your needs.  

So, if you're wondering what happened to this year's Namaste Nantucket Retreat, there you go. If you want to join us in June 2018, you can sign up to reserve your space here (I know it's CRAZY early to be planning 2018 so you can obviously wait to snag your spot, but it is up and officially open already). And I promise you that I won't back out again.

A huge thanks to everyone who was so understanding about this and readers, if you get nothing else from this post, I hope that it makes you feel less alone the next time that you have to back-out of something in order to save yourself months of anxiety, stress, and/or logistical nightmares.  

If there are 19 seconds left on the microwave before it beeps, are you the kind of person who:

-Stands still and waits for the time to run out?

OR

-Tries to see how many more things you can accomplish before it goes off--unloads 10 more dishes from the dishwasher, sorts through some of the mail sitting on the counter, and/or sets the table or tries to prep the rest of the meal you're about to eat?

Similarly, if there are 3 seconds left on the microwave and you don't have another menial task around the kitchen to attend to, are you the kind of person who: 

-Waits the 3 seconds for the microwave to stop? 

OR

-Opens the door and gets the item out with 1 or 2 seconds still left on the timer?

I bet you could answer this right away. You know which kind of person you are because most of us use our microwaves on a fairly regular basis and our microwave habits are pretty normal. Today, I'm here to argue that the way you interact with your microwave is a great indicator of some of your larger personality traits--or at least it is around our household.

In both of the above scenarios, Ben is the first type of person and I am the second.

Although this might not sound like a huge difference, in our relationship, it is. Our differences are one of the reasons that we work so well together as a couple, but after 12 years, they're also the cause of a lot of head-butting and annoyances. 

Every time that I walk into the kitchen and observe Ben just standing still while the microwave counts down, I go crazy. Why isn't he putting that empty seltzer can [that he left sitting out on the counter] in the recycling bin while he waits for the microwave to go off? Why doesn't he load a few of those dishes into the dishwasher? Why is he just standing there!?!?!

And every time that Ben walks into the kitchen and sees that there are 3 seconds left on the microwave but nothing inside, he goes crazy because he knows that it means that I was so impatient that I couldn't wait 3 more seconds before removing my item. 

Our microwave behaviors are symbolic of both the good and annoying parts of our personalities; I love the fact that Ben is careful, methodical, and only does one thing at a time, but it also drives me insane because he can't multitask and thus his household productivity is way less than it could be [and way less than mine]. 

Ben loves the fact that I am able to make a lot happen in a short amount of time and that I keep our life moving forward, but he can't stand how impatient I am and how my need to multitask often leads to chaos.

It's funny, isn't it? How when you live with someone, these little things that no one would ever notice from the outside become such a part of the conversation, such fodder for your frustrations? 

It's easy to simply bitch about your partner and all of the things that they do that drive you insane (because no matter how much you love someone, there will always be things that drive you insane), but it's not quite so easy to remember that at the root of these things, you'll often find the reason that you fell in love with them in the first place. 

For example, in our world, Ben's slow and steady pace is a great balance for my frenetic, go-go-go mentality. He helps me to calm down in a way that most can't and he grounds me in a way that I need (usually).

Do I wish he would fold laundry or straighten up while he listens to a podcast (because he literally just lies on the sofa while listening and I can't. handle. it.)? Of course I do. But then I remember that he's modeling behavior that I could learn from; you don't always need to be do doing ten things at once, there's a beauty to learning how to relax and just be. I chose to be with someone who has that ability because I need more of that in my life, even if it drives me crazy when I see him doing it. 

So here's my challenge to you on this Monday: put yourself to the test--the Microwave Personality Test, of course--and see where you fall. If you're someone who doesn't spring into action when you have 10 whole seconds left (ha!), try using those 10 seconds to do one thing and see how it feels.

If you're someone who tries to use the 10 seconds to clean the entire house or write an entire novel, perhaps just stand still and see how that feels. Observe your habits and change things up, if for no other reason than to learn something about yourself (and perhaps, about others). 

And also, if you live with someone, remember that at the root of everything they do that drives you crazy, there might just be a glimmer of the reason that you love them so much in the first place. 

[Relationships, y'all. They're tough! But oh, so worth it.]

PS. Thanks SO much to everyone who completed my reader survey and entered my giveaway! The painting winner is Erin. C. {Erin, check your inbox for details on how to receive your prize!!} And if you still have feedback to share, the survey will remain open until the end of the week so feel free to complete it if you haven't already.

Thanks again to everyone who took the time to fill it out--I'll be digging into your responses more this week and will be sure to share them/my takeaways soon! 

New month {OMG}, so I think it's time for another "lately" post! Here's what's happening in my world these days...

​1: Number of times I've practiced yoga for longer than 15-20 minutes in the past month. I am SO sad about this and am planning to remedy the situation this month. This is the least yoga I've ever practiced in my life (since starting practicing regularly, of course). I blame all of our childcare issues (see below). 

2: Number of cans of seltzer that I'm drinking per day--but only because I'm limiting myself to this number (or it would be WAY more). Could there be anything more refreshing than a cold can from the fridge? #addicted

3: Number of childcare providers we've been through since Charlie Mae was born 6 months ago. Why has it been SO hard for us to figure this out?!? We start our newest childcare option next week--praying that this one finally works out!

4: Number of unread books on my nightstand. Also the approximate number of minutes I can read each night before falling asleep, and thus, why there are so many unread books on my nightstand.

5: Number of weekly yoga classes I'm teaching right now. This is also the least yoga I've ever taught since becoming a teacher back in 2010, and it's weird because it still feels like a lot. How did I teach 17 classes per week when I first started? Or even 12 classes per week when I lived in DC? Or 10 when I first moved to the Cape? Crazy. 

6: Hours of sleep I've been averaging since we introduced solids into Charlie Mae's life on Friday. The girl has been having some serious belly issues and those great nights of sleep that I told you about recently? Vanished, just like that. Hoping this new pattern is a short-lived thing and her digestion calms down ASAP. 

7:  Days per week that Sayde now asks for her "dinner" at least 1-2 hours before she's supposed to get it. The girl is killing me with her nonstop barking and sad "I want dinner" eyes at 1:30pm!

8: Number of client projects that I'm currently in the middle of (with Sara's help, obviously).

9: Number of tabs open at the top of my browser right now; most of them are articles or links that I need to check out and haven't gotten to yet. Do you leave this many tabs open at once, too? I know I'm not the only one who works this way...

10: Number of Dark chocolate bars that Ben purchased on his trip to Whole Foods yesterday (when I asked him to pick up just one). The guy is OUT OF CONTROL when it comes to sweets these days. Is this what parenthood looks like? Just making it rain with $4 chocolate bars? 

...And that's what's happening in my hectic life right now. What does the numerical breakdown of your life look like these days?

Happy March, everyone! 

Back in October, when she was still getting used to having a baby around the house, Sayde peed on our comforter and duvet cover. I removed the duvet cover from the comforter and washed it, then washed the comforter. That night when Ben and I were re-making our bed, we were too tired to put the duvet cover back on, so we said we'd do it the next day. I folded it up and put it on top of a dresser in our bedroom.

Here we are over 4 months later and that duvet cover is still sitting on the dresser--and our duvet-less white comforter now has 4 month's worth of baby and dog stains on it. 

When we were moving into our house back in February 2015, one of our moving helpers dropped a box of kitchen stuff and the handle of one of my favorite mugs broke off [see image above]. "No problem," I said faux-cheerfully, "I'll just glue it back on!" I placed the broken handle inside the mug and placed the mug in the corner of a side table in our living room so that I would remember to fix it ASAP. 

Yep, you guessed it; two years later and that mug is still sitting there. Every time that I grab a pen from the jar of pens that sits next to the mug, I'm reminded that I still need to glue that handle back on. And that there are SO many more [metaphorical] broken-handled mugs in my life, just waiting to be fixed when I find the time to get to them. 

When I was little and my parents were getting divorced, I started having these scary nighttime episodes called night terrors (look them up: they're no joke!). In one of these recurring nightmares, I was in a library that had books all over the floor and it was my job to put the books back on the shelves. Every time that I put a book on a shelf, another 3-4 books would fall down onto the floor.

This dream was a horrible anxiety-ridden nightmare because even at the tender age of 8, I understood that I would never be able to put all of those books back up--that the work would never, ever end. 

Now here I am at 32, and while I've never been officially tasked with that Sisyphean library shelf stacking job (thank goodness!), sometimes life can feel like that job.

It's not as scary or daunting as the midnight terror version because I'm used to life being this way by now,  but when I strike a line through something on my daily to-do list, only to add another 2-3 items to the bottom of the list, I realize that my list will never ever end, either. And that there are tons of tasks--like the mug and duvet cover--that aren't even important enough to make my daily lists, but that will remain on the sidelines of my life for who knows how long, heckling me as I go about my day handling the more important and more timely to-dos. 

So this is it, right? This is how life goes. You keep hoping to find time to paint the trim and eventually, either you make it happen or you give up on it and the trim goes unpainted until you pay someone to do it or get ready to sell the house. 

It's time that we [I] accept that this is how it is and just get over it. Now that we have a baby and I have even less time than I used to, I'm working on being okay with all of the unfinished business in my life; I don't want to be haunted by the broken mugs of days gone by.

This past weekend, as I was doing some straightening, I made my way over to the little table where the broken mug sits (and where paperwork and unopened mail goes to die--you know the spot because I'm sure you have one, too).  

I picked up the mug and looked at it and in that moment, I knew that I was faced with a decision: do I go dig around in the basement right now and try to find some glue and just fix this thing already, or do I give in, admit that I won't get to it, and throw the mug away? 

As I held the mug in my hand pondering what I should do and somewhat paralyzed by indecision, Charlie Mae woke up and start crying for me and that was that. I put the mug back down and went upstairs to get her.

As I write this, I can still see the mug sitting right where I left it--where it has lived for over two years and will probably continue to sit for another two years unless I take a stand and do something about it as soon as I press 'publish' on this blog post. 

I'd like to tell you that I will definitely go deal with it right now, but something else might come up in the next two minutes and it might not happen and that's just life. 

I want to be the type of person who fixes the mug right away--I really do!--and there have been times in my life when I was that person, but I'm not sure if that's who I am right now, or who I'll be again any time in the foreseeable future. And I'm learning to live with the fact that it's okay to be the person who throws the mug away or lives without a duvet cover for a year.

It really is. 

Right?

In a consulting session with a new client a few weeks ago, we were talking about burnout—how most people experience it at some point in their working lives and how some people work for years in a burnt-out state without doing anything about it or even realizing that they’re burned out. 

Then we started talking about getting to the root of why you do what you do; obviously people work because you need money in order to do most things in our world (and uh, eat, have a roof over your head, etc.), but we also work because having a job gives you purpose and makes you feel useful, which is important to our sense of self-worth.

But when you take it to the next level, when you move past these things and get to the place where your job is taking up most of your energy, most of your time, and most of your mental capacity, it’s really important that you’re working for more than just the money or a general reason to get out of bed every day. 

That’s when it becomes imperative that your job feed you in some way. Does that mean that what you do at work has to be what you’re most passionate about? No, it doesn't. But if you don’t love the actual work that you’re doing, then I hope that you love what your work enables you to do—whether that’s spend lots of time with loved ones, travel the world, do what you love on the side, or buy experiences that are important to you. 

As you know by now, I love the actual work that I do, but I also love that I have control over my schedule and when and how I work. This doesn’t mean that I don’t get burned out (because believe me, I do!!!), but that when I do, it doesn’t feel as hopeless as it used to because ultimately, I know that I've chosen this work and I have control over it. 

But you don’t have to work for yourself or love your actual work to feel this way.

I have a student who told me that he doesn’t necessarily love his job, but that he has found a workplace where he’s allowed to take a 3-month sabbatical every year to travel, which is his ultimate dream. So for him, even though the work isn’t the most stimulating and he doesn't make the money that he could, it paves the way for him to do what he wants to do, and in that way, he knows what he’s working for. If he were to feel burned out, he would know that it was for a really wonderful reason (in the long-term), and he could justify that feeling. 

So here’s my question for you: What are you working for? Do you know? Do you have something to hold onto when you’re feeling burned out?

​If not, what steps can you take in 2017 to get to a place where you are working for something that is meaningful to you?  

Think about it.

Right now, for the first time in my body-image-issue-riddled life, I am in love with some serious fat rolls. Every time that I bathe my daughter or change her clothes or diaper, I am in awe of the adorable rolls of baby fat the cover her perfect little thighs (and circle around her wrists, nestle underneath her chin...). 

Having spent much of my life horrified by "fat," these rolls that I find so adorable and kissable have gotten me thinking a lot about what it means to be a growing girl in the world today--to go from a roly poly baby with thighs for days to a girl who is obsessed with having smaller thighs (or thigh gap) and who is scared of anything and everything resembling fat or cellulite.

As I'm sure you know by now, I've always been a self-conscious person. As far back as I can remember, I was worried about what other people thought of me--I wanted to fit in, to have the right clothes, to arrive on time, to go unnoticed (unless it was for something positive, of course). But I have two very distinct early memories of feeling self-conscious about my body and of being worried about being fat.

The first was on a trip to visit my cousins in Florida when I was in elementary school. I remember dressing in my purple, flowery one-piece swimsuit, then pulling on my shorts and t-shirt, and heading to the beach with the fam.

​When we got there and my cousin took off her cover-up to reveal her tan, thin body in her sunflower-patterned suit, I remember immediately realizing that she was thinner than me--that I was the rounder, paler 10-year old female in our family. I remember feeling ashamed of my body, especially my thighs, and wanting to hide myself, lest everyone see how completely inferior I was to my cousin.

The second memory that sticks out was in gym class (I know, how cliche!), it must have been in 5th or 6th grade, and I remember a bunch of us girls wearing shorts and sitting on a table, our legs too short to reach the floor, so they were dangling over the edge.

If you're not a self-conscious female with bigger-than-you'd-like-thighs you wouldn't necessarily know this, but here's a thing to know: when you sit on something and let your legs hang over the edge and your feet don't touch the floor, your thighs spread out onto the surface on which you're sitting. So no matter what size your thighs are, if you let them relax on a hard surface and look down, they will look much bigger than normal. The muscles and flesh flatten with the pull of gravity, and they're no longer as small as they looked when you were standing up just a moment ago.

​This is what I remember noticing: that when I looked down, my thighs looked huge. I was disgusted by what I saw.

I don't think I ever sat like that again (I'm serious!) and I have many memories of watching other girls sit like that on the edge of a table, on top of a cement wall, on the side of the pool (in their swimsuits, nonetheless!), and always feeling jealous that their thighs didn't look as big as mine did and that they were so comfortable in their bodies.

Later in high school, when I was in treatment for an eating disorder, I remember talking to my therapist about the horror of thighs spreading over a flat surface; I remember her pointing out that everyone's legs did this when they sat down, that this was normal, and thinking that she had no idea how big my thighs were and if she did, she would understand and be simultaneously grossed-out.

And now here I am, many, many years later, a yoga teacher who has learned to love and appreciate her body (thighs and all) and now I have a daughter with thighs of her own; a daughter who I find perfect in every way, and whose rolls make me happier than I ever knew fat could.

As I bathe her little body and carry it in my arms all day long, I've been thinking a lot about how to teach her to love herself just as she is. I want her to love her thighs no matter how big or small they are, I want her to be a 10-year old who wears her swimsuit without thinking twice about how she compares next to her cousins, I want her to sit on a table and not even think about looking down because why would you? I don't want the size of her thighs to even cross her mind! 

​I don't know if it's possible to raise a girl in our society and shelter her from the pressures to look or act a certain way, but I do know that I'm going to try my best to teach her how amazing her body is, how it's important to have strong legs that support you and allow you to run, jump, or hold Extended Side Angle for 20 breaths. I want her to know that she is perfect just as she is and that the size of her thighs don't say anything about who she is as a person.

I don't know exactly how I'm going teach her these things yet, but I'm committed to figuring it out and doing the very best I can to make her feel worthy and strong, despite the messages that our culture sends that tell her otherwise. 
​
And until she's old enough to understand, I'm going to continue to kiss the heck out of her chubby little thighs and exclaim at their soft, squishy, roly-poly beauty, because they sure are awe-inspiring. 

Unfortunately, I won't be able to march in DC or Boston on Saturday because my sweet baby still won't take a bottle (and thus, I can't be away from her long enough to make it happen).

I've tried to work out the logistics, but there's simply no way that I can be away all day (or take her to a place I couldn't easily leave if needed), and as sad as I am about the fact that I won't be able to take part in voicing my feelings at this important moment in history, I'm trying to accept that my need to stay home with my baby goes hand-in-hand with why the march is happening in the first place: we women play an important role in society, in raising our children, in caring for humanity, in teaching love, acceptance, and peace, in defending the marginalized--and we deserve equality and respect, as do all other groups who have felt threatened, scared, or insulted by our new President-Elect.  

If I could march, I would be marching for a more accepting, kind, uplifting future, and for more admirable leadership for our country--for leaders that both Charlie Mae and I can look up to and learn from.

I would march for my mom who struggles with mental health issues and will lose her health insurance, I would march for my LGBTQIA friends, my immigrant friends, my minority friends, my disabled family member, and all of the disenfranchised that feel threatened in our current political climate. 

But even though I won't be there in-person doesn't mean that I won't be with all of you marchers in spirit. I will be thinking of you as I snuggle and feed my little girl, and will be filled with gratitude for all of you who are taking a stand and making your voices heard during this scary time. 

In a similar boat and can't make it to a march? Here's what I plan on doing, instead: donating the money that I would have spent getting to and from the march to some causes that really need the funds right now, supporting those who are marching, and attending a local gathering "in solidarity" with the Women's March (one that is only an hour and thus, is feasible with my current schedule). 

Want to find your local march and/or learn more about the March on Washington? Visit this site. 

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.
​-Martin Luther King Jr. 

Is it bad when you have to calculate how old you're turning on your birthday? Because I had to do that this year...and I figured out that I was going to be 32 today. Hmmm.

What's funny about having a birthday when you have a little baby [at least for me] is that you totally forget about your birthday and you don't even attempt to make any plans for the day...even if you wanted to, the logistics of trying to make said plans would be more work than they're worth, so then your birthday gift to yourself ends up being not making any plans and just sleeping in about 30 minutes later than you usually do (and thus, getting 30 minutes less work done than you might otherwise, haha!). 

BUT, even though I'm not doing anything special to celebrate today (especially because we just got back in town from our trip to Atlanta last night and are all totally pooped!), this birthday does feel special simply because it's my first with Charlie Mae--my first as a mom. And even though she has no idea what's going on, I know that every time I look at her today, I'll be reminded that this last year of my life brought the best gift I could *ever* receive; it will forever be the year that I was pregnant with and gave birth to our sweet baby girl.  

This past weekend in GA, we introduced Charlie Mae to both of my Grandmothers and my Great Aunt. Watching her smile at them, gaze into their eyes, sit in their laps, and hold [and gum] their fingers was another incredible gift that she gave me in 2016, and words can't describe how meaningful it was to observe all of them together. 

Now we're home, and it's time to hunker down and get into the holiday spirit as we gear up for the last few weeks of the year:

Later this week, we'll celebrate Sayde's 3 year adoptaversary (!!!!), Charlie Mae's 4-month birthday (what, not a thing?), Christmas, and then New Years, and throughout all of these celebrations, my goal is to just bask in my gratitude for this year, my loved ones, all of the gifts in my life, and the magic of family.

I hope that as 2016 draws to a close, you're feeling a similar sense of magic amidst all of the craziness [of which there is A LOT!].

That being said, here are a few quick pics of my best birthay gift EVER:

{Above: 4 Generations of women on my dad's side of the family, from almost 4 months to almost 90 years!}

Thanks for all of the birthday wishes, already! You guys are the best. 

Oh my, you guys, there's a lot of crazy stuff going on right now. The world is chaotic, the state of our country is chaotic, and on a tiny scale, my day-to-day life is more chaotic than it's ever been. It's a lot to take in.

I've been finding it really hard to read the news/my newsfeed lately--the overwhelmed, brokenhearted part of me just wants to bury my head in the Cape Cod sand, ignore it all, and cuddle my little one--and the enraged, productive part of me wants to stay informed, involved, and active (especially because each piece of news that I read is more unbelievable than the next). I feel a strong urge to get out there and DO something, but I can't find the time or energy to do much more than the very basics right now. 

My personal life has been in a state of upheaval since we had Charlie Mae (obviously). I'm trying to adjust to working with an almost 3-month old at home, trying to figure out how to navigate balancing the pull of motherhood with the pull of all of my other responsibilities, and somewhere in there, I'm trying to find time to take care of myself. 

Needless to say, I feel pretty all over the place. I can hardly find the time to shower, let alone get out there and become an activist. I'm struggling with this--with my desire to do something and my inability to do hardly anything but the very bare minimum on any given day. 

And then, here come the holidays! They're here and it's time for family, tradition, gratitude, making pies...and I love all of that, but it adds to the already overflowing pot. So, what to do? 

As cheesy and overused as it is/sounds, and as much as it isn't activism or productivity in the way that I'd like to be productive in both my work and in the world right now, I'm trying my hardest to just focus in on the theme of the season: gratitude. If nothing else, feeling a real, full sense of gratitude is a helpful way to quell some of the anxiety about all of this chaos and get dialed-in on the present moment.   

I won't bore you with a list of everything that I'm grateful for here [been there, done that], but suffice it to say that our darling daughter, whose very existence is all it takes to make me feel so full of love I could burst, tops the list this year. If nothing else, I want to tune into my gratitude in order to stay present for her, so that I can do everything I can to raise her to feel safe, empowered, strong, and kind, despite the chaos that surrounds her. 

So right now, that's what I'm trying to focus on. I'm taking things day-by-day (or hour-by hour) and doing the best that I can in each given moment. I am so grateful for this life, even when it's chaotic, and that's what I want to remember this Thanksgiving (and really, every other day, too).

I hope that even if you're feeling equally overwhelmed by the state of our world, you can do the same. And I don't mean ignore what's happening or block it out, I mean connect with a deep sense of gratitude despite what's happening, because that's important, too. 

We have all been blessed with so many gifts; my wish for each of us is that we can truly feel the weight of these gifts during this holiday season, even if we don't feel as stable as we have in holidays past.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I hope your day is full of what matters most. 

[Quick programming note: my brother and his GF are coming to visit for Thanksgiving + to meet Charlie Mae--hoorraayyyy!--so there will be no SJOTW on Friday. I want to soak up every minute with them while they're in town. I'll be back on Monday.]

[Image above: the sign that my dear friend Laura Whitaker put up in her front yard this morning. She got the idea from her brilliant sister Sarah Whitaker.  I love them + their immediate action SO much. ]

​Today, for the first time in my life, I've cried over the political state of our country (multiple times since waking up).

​I've spent the morning sending + receiving texts from loved ones asking how this could have happened. I've been pouring over articles written by those as devastated and scared as I am. I've looked at my 2.5 month-old daughter and held back tears of sadness for my dashed hopes that her first year of life would also be our first year with a female president. I never believed that this wouldn't happen, so I feel totally blindsided. 

I so appreciate everyone on social media (and IRL, see image above!) who is trying to stay positive, and I am trying my best to do the same. I usually try not to post to the blog when I'm emotional--I try to wait until the dust has settled and I've processed whatever it is that is causing me to feel emotional--but today I couldn't stay quiet.

If there's one thing that this election outcome has taught me, it's that you cannot stay quiet. You need to speak up and stand up for what you believe in, even if it ruffles feathers or causes you to lose some friends.

Because I believe in equality, love, acceptance, kindness, and giving, I need to start speaking up WAY more about living according to these values and I need to be sure that in every way possible, I teach my daughter to do the same. I only wish I had done more speaking up over the past year, but I guess we live and learn, and there's no use in beating ourselves up for not doing more at this point {sigh}. 

So today, I'm in mourning. I'm giving myself the space to mourn this election outcome in the same way that I would mourn the death of a loved one. In many ways, I think we are mourning the death of someone we loved--the country that we thought we lived in and the kinds of people that we thought we lived amongst.

If you, too, feel devastated by the outcome of this election in a way that you never have before, give yourself time to mourn that loss and feel all of the feelings today; it's okay to be sad when someone you love disappoints you.

But then, once you've moved through that sense of loss, lets agree to do everything we can to spread love and acceptance each and every day, in every way that we can. And lets agree to speak up for those whose voices aren't as loud as our own; they need us now more than ever.

Deep down, no matter how devastated I am, my inner optimist still has hope that goodness will prevail. I so hope I'm right. 

Today, Charlie Mae turns 5 weeks old, and this morning, Ben went back to work for the first full day since she was born.

The end of Ben's Parental Leave marks the end of our most special time as a new family--5 weeks of being in our own little newborn world with our baby, cocooned inside the house, only venturing out when we felt like it and/or were going totally stir-crazy (which definitely happened to each of us multiple times!).

Luckily, my mom came in town yesterday and will be here for a week to help us with this transition (and then my dad comes in town for a week to do the same), but it was sad seeing Ben leave this morning, kissing each of us goodbye while we were still curled up in bed, a little pack of baby, doggy, and mommy arms + legs all intertwined under the covers.

And as I lay there, snuggling with my two tiny, warm beings, I was struck by what a unique time these first few weeks of motherhood have been. 

Every day, we experience another first. Our first night at home. Our first trip to the doctor. Our first family walk. Our first breastfeeding class. My first time pumping. Ben's first time giving her a bottle. Our first time leaving her. My first full yoga class since giving birth (which I went to yesterday...it was ah-mazing!). Ben's first day back at work... And eventually, Charlie Mae and I will have our first day completely alone--just the two of us--and then our first day with childcare, and later, we'll witness her first laugh, her first word, her first steps, the list goes on and on...

As I fill out our "Baby's First Year" calendar each night, marking down the memorable moments from the day, I am continually reminded that really, from here on out, life will be made up of many firsts; that parenthood is simply one transition after another, for infinity, all made up of firsts that eventually become a part of daily life in order to make room for another first to move on in. 

And it seems to me that this is one of the many reasons why being present as a parent is SO important, but also SO hard. Ben and I find ourselves saying things like, "I can't wait to see what her personality is like," or, "I can't wait until she can hold her head up, or talk," and yet, I'm already nostalgic for how tiny she was when we first brought her home from the hospital, for how she was always curled up in a tight little ball like she was still inside the womb. Everything is happening so quickly!

As a new parent--and perhaps as a parent in general--the passage of time is bittersweet. With each day, she develops more and we get to know her better, but at the same time, we lose a part of her infancy, of this precious, sweet time where she can still fit on our chests, where she's just learning to smile, where she depends on us for everything in the most beautiful, vulnerable way.

So we mourn the time that has already passed, try to soak up the present, and remain excited about what the future holds (trying not to let anxiety creep into the crevices in between these times).

But I think it's also important to acknowledge that all of these firsts are what makes new parenthood so challenging, too. As my friend Erica pointed out, when you're a new parent, every time you do something, you're doing it for the first time, so it takes much longer, or it's much scarier, or you're more uncertain than you ever will be in doing that thing again. And that can make these first few weeks of firsts really hard, especially when the firsts are stacked one on top of another, like dominoes waiting to be toppled.  

So, to the parents, new parents, and parents-to-be out there, I want to tell you that I'm right there with you, navigating, mourning, and celebrating all of the firsts. Whether it's your child's first month of school, his first time driving a car on his own, or your first year as an empty-nester, these firsts are all of the emotions, all at once, and I think it's totally fine to both laugh and cry {at the same time} as you go though them...

And bloggies, thank you for being patient with me as I continue to hang back while trying to navigate and soak up all of these firsts! I promise I'll be back to business (or at least, more regular posting) sometime in the next month or so.

In the past month, two of my good friends have recently moved "home" to live near their families--and in both cases, these moves took place after years of living a long plane flight away.

As I've watched these friends jump right back into the folds of family life, I've been thinking a lot about our move to Cape Cod, which at the time, wasn't based on being close to family (although that was definitely a bonus when we made the decision), but has been a really wonderful part of our living here. 

Of course, I've also been thinking about living close to family because of my dad's visit last week. It was *SO* wonderful to have him here, for him to be a part of our daily lives and our impending life change, but it also made me sad that we can't live in a place where we're close to both of our families, that people don't still live in villages where generations of the same family all live next door to one another and help raise each other's children.

However, I know that we're lucky to be able to live close to at least one side of the family; we're lucky that we have jobs that allowed us to move and don't require us to be in one particular city or location, and that we had the means and life circumstances that allowed us to make our move almost 3 years ago.

Since moving, I've been surprised at how great it really is to be close to family. I knew it would be nice to have family nearby for the holidays, birthdays, and bigger events, but what I didn't think about was how nice it would be for Ben's Grandfather to be able to come to all of his basketball games (the ones he coaches), for Ben's mom to be able to stop by on a Saturday afternoon just to say 'hi' and catch up, for impromptu family BBQs on the weekend, for the connections that are formed by living in the same place and therefore being affected by the same local news, weather, and events. There's something really lovely about that. 

And of course, there's the super helpful part of living near family, which I know will only increase exponentially once we have a baby: the family members who are able to come stay with Sayde when we go out of town, who can come let her out in the middle of the day if I'm unavailable, who we can borrow equipment or supplies from when doing work on the house--the people you know you can count on if you lock yourself out of the car, need help moving, or have an emergency. It's great to feel that kind of support, too. 

So, I guess what I'm saying is that there's something really wonderful about living near family, and also, as we get ready to grow our own little family, I'm having a lot of sadness about not living by my side of the family, too--about not having my parents, grandparents, brothers, aunts + uncles close by.

​I feel so grateful that my in-laws are here, and that we have a support system now that we didn't even realize was possible just a few years ago, and at the same time, I can't bear the thought that my parents won't be able to be a part of our daughter's daily + weekly life in the same way that Ben's family will be. It's such a mix of emotions all rolled up into one...but I guess that kind of describes life, doesn't it? 

{Oh, and I should note that I know that living near family can be hard, too, depending on family dynamics, but I think that in many cases, the good outweighs the more challenging aspects of having family nearby. Obviously this is case-by-case and only you can know what's best for you...}

Want to hear more about our move to Cape Cod and deciding to make a big move to be close to family? Check out ​Starr Struck Radio, Episode 36: Making a Big Move + Making Friends as an Adult. 

Growing up, I probably went to the beach once or twice per year, max. Sometimes we went to visit family who lived in Florida, on a few occasions we took family vacations to GA beaches, and as I got into middle school and high school, I often went to the beach with friends and their families.

The beach was always something that didn't feel too far away, but was not easily accessible on any given weekend, and I didn't ever think of it as a big part of my life. As I got older, I continued to enjoy the beach, but it was just a vacation spot--a spring break destination and once-per-year indulgence. 

And then Ben and I got together in college, and I remember the first time that I went with him to his "hometown" [Cape Cod] and met his family. We drove from KY to Cape Cod together after his graduation and arrived in the middle of the night, totally exhausted. When we finally woke up and ventured out the next day,  I was dumbfounded that he grew up in such an idyllic place. I didn't understand how he could ever leave somewhere so beautiful and quaint. 

In the years following, we would visit the Cape as a couple at least once per year, if not more. In the early days, Cape Cod wasn't ever a place I imagined living one day, it was just the place Ben grew up, and subsequently, the place that I was lucky enough to get to visit on a regular basis.

Fast forward to present day, and in November, we'll have been living on the Cape as a couple for 3 years. We bought a house here, we're having a baby here, and it's now home. We live 5 minutes from the beach and are experiencing our third summer here, and I still sometimes look around in awe and adoration. 

Last night, as we drove to dinner down Historic 6A--what I have to guess is one of the most beautiful "highways" in the country--to eat dinner outside at one of our favorite spots right on the water (Sesuit Harbor Cafe), I couldn't stop saying how crazy it is that we live somewhere so beautiful, somewhere that so many people flock to in the summers, desperate to get away from the heat of the cities and into the water.

While I've loved everywhere that I've lived (and I really mean that!!), living by the beach definitely takes the cake, and this summer I am more grateful than ever for the fact that I have ended up here.

​Being able to take a quick drive over to the ocean and jump in on a hot day [especially when you're pregnant!] is priceless. Spending a Saturday afternoon lounging on the beach just because you can is never a mistake. Heading down to the beach to catch a glimpse of the sunset on a random Sunday night always puts things into perspective. And walking your dog on the beach in the middle of a weekday (in the off-season, of course) is the best break you can ask for during a busy workday. 

I've found that now that I've lived by the water, it's become an integral part of my life (even though I don't get to spend as much time there as I'd like). Just knowing that the beach is 5 minutes down the road is enough to help me relax, and getting there is often all I need to let go completely--even when I feel quite overwhelmed.

I know that not everyone is a beach person, but we all have that place or that kind of place that is meaningful to us, whether we've identified it yet or not.

​And since moving to the Cape--a place that I didn't know I would love so much, but now feel totally connected to--I've realized how good it feels to live in a location that speaks to you, that you feel passionate about, and that just feels like home [even if you hardly knew it existed for the first 20 years or your life or so].

So, as I bask in gratitude for the life journey that brought me to this unexpected little sandbar, I want to encourage you to think about the place where you live right now: how do you feel about it? Does it make your heart sing?

If not, where would you like to live or end up? And how can you start taking baby steps to move in that direction? If you can't move because of work, family, or economic restraints, how can you find ways to reconnect with the parts of nature or the parts of your location that you love most?

I'm here to tell you, living somewhere that you love sure is a special way to add another dimension of happiness and beauty to your life.

I've always been a klutz, but pregnancy has taken it to an entirely new level. Last week, I spilled a big glass of water on the table, and thus, on Ben's iPad (luckily, all was fine, but it wasn't appreciated or well-received).

This past weekend, when headed to the beach, I accidentally hit someone's car with our beach umbrella while walking through the parking lot (the car was also fine). At a cookout on Sunday, I dropped a berry on Ben's jeans, leaving a stain (another move Ben didn't appreciate). And then yesterday morning at 6:30 am, I completed my biggest feat yet: I spilled tea on my laptop keyboard. One of my worst nightmares come true! 

Needless to say, my level of anxiety skyrocketed immediately. I performed all of the tricks--upside down drying in front of a fan, shutting it down and praying/ignoring it while hoping all would miraculously be fine, calling Apple for tips and tricks for healing a wet MacBook, but alas, as the liquid seeped deeper and deeper into the recesses of the computer, I knew it was a lost cause. 

My laptop is now at a local Mac specialist trying to be resuscitated. Work-wise, I might as well be rendered useless. We have a back-up desktop that I can use for basic functions like email and posting this blog post, but when it comes to all of my client and design work, I've been forced to a standstill.

As I wait for an estimate for the repair, which could take 2-4 days (when I heard these words, my heart sank! You mean 2-4 hours, right!?), I am doing my best to practice non-attachment, but wow, is that a hard yama to cultivate--especially when it comes to technology. 

I keep telling myself that in the grand scheme of things, it's fine: I'm fine, my baby is fine, my family is fine, my business is fine--this is just a tiny blip on the productivity radar, and even if I do end up having to replace the laptop (an expense I'd rather not deal with while in baby prep mode), my files are all backed up and all will be totally fine. So why is it so upsetting? Why does it feel like such a huge setback?

I think it's because I value productivity, a quick turnaround time, and non-stop work SO much. And because my self worth can get so wrapped up in my work when I'm not mindful. And of course, because I was counting on this week to be a super productive one, especially after taking the long weekend off and just relaxing (and therefore, letting the work pile up). 

So maybe this is just the universe's way of preparing me for maternity leave--for that time when I am not productive AT ALL (business/work-wise) and not working becomes my new normal for a while. Or maybe it's just another chance for me to slow down...and I'm going to keep getting hit over the head with life forcing me to slow down until I'm just napping all day long ;) 

Either way, I'm taking this as a sign that I need to work on letting go of my need to constantly produce...and as a reminder that in my work-world, [almost] nothing is urgent. This is always an important lesson to come back to, even if it doesn't always feel that way when you're in the thick of things. 

{But also, if the technician could go ahead and hurry up with fixing my laptop--who is pictured above in all of her functioning glory in Costa Rica back in 2015-- that would be greeeeeaaatttt...}

How have you been challenged to let go of your attachments lately? Is this yama as hard for you as it is for me? It's one of my biggest struggles! But I'm going to keep working with it and hope you'll join me in these efforts if you, too, are challenged by this concept...