waiting room

I'm currently sitting in a hospital a few hours from my home, waiting with my husband and mother-in-law, while my father-in-law has surgery.

This isn't my first go 'round in this hospital.  In fact, I've been here more than I'd like to admit over the past few months.

Most recently, I've spent time here while my stepmom deals with some pretty serious health issues.  It's been a struggle... for her and for my dad.  For other reasons, it's been a struggle for me too.  To understand why, I'll need to give you a bit of background.

My parents are divorced and my dad remarried when I was in 4th or 5th grade.  I remember being excited.  My new mom-to-be was pretty, seemed fun, and had three kids near my age.  It didn't take long after the wedding for me to realize that things weren't going to be quite how I had imagined.  Soon after they married,  they moved three hours away.  My visits became less often, as is bound to happen when you have parents that live several hours apart, and I quickly felt out of place and unwanted whenever I made the trek across the state to see my dad.

I remember sitting in the basement, listening to my dad and stepmom fight about me upstairs and not understanding why.  I remember the short, sharp way that she spoke to me every time I came to town (and believe me when I say she only spoke to me when she had to).  As the years passed, I spent less and less time with my dad.  Every time I visited I felt awkward and unwanted.  As I became an adult, things didn't change.

I got married; I had a child.  I will never forget bringing my (then) two month old to visit for the first time.  My dad was excited to meet my daughter, and I was hopeful that having a child would be the beginning of healing the relationship with her.  When my stepmom walked in the door I was excited to greet her and introduce my infant daughter.  When I asked her if she wanted to hold my daughter, she simply said, "no, thanks", and walked up the stairs.  She never once even acknowledged my daughter the entire time we were there.  My heart broke that day.  I realized there was no hope of having a relationship with this woman.

A few years back my father even brought it up in conversation.  He admitted that she has always had a problem with me.  He admitted that she is unkind to my children.  He speculated about jealousy (of what, I'm not sure).   I'm not sure what unforgivable sins my 10 year old self committed, and to be honest I've kind of stopped caring.  If an adult woman can hold on to a grudge against a child for 20+ years than I think the problem lies more in her than it does in myself.

Fast forward to today:

This woman is seriously ill.  I do believe (at this point) that she will make it through.  She has a long road ahead, but it is one that I'm convinced she will be strong enough to walk.

My father hasn't always been so optimistic.  The last month or so has seriously tested his faith.  He has doubted if she was strong enough to pull through, and in response he has started to break.  I've seen more tears and given more hugs over the past month than in the past 2 years.

So I've tried to be there for him.  Being three hours away makes that a little harder, but I've done my best.  Lots of hours in the car, and lots of loving via food (as is the best way I know how).  At first this was easy for me... I come here as support to him.  Not to say I wish my step-mom ill will (I certainly don't), but my focus is on him... not her.  I need to make sure that he doesn't fall while trying to keep her standing.  I will admit it has become more of a struggle.  It's a mixed bag of emotions to try and support someone when the source of their stress is someone who is a negative influence in your life.

I spent one afternoon on the phone with one of my stepmom's best friends. She is a lovely woman who has been nothing but kind to me, polite and thankful for every exchange we've had.   We had exchanged phone numbers at the hospital a few weeks ago, and I'd told her that I would give her updates as I heard them.  It's hard not to wonder if she knows how my stepmom feels about me...

I certainly wouldn't change what I'm doing.  I know I will continue to support my dad as best as I can, but for my own well-being I also have to set some boundaries.  I'm under no fairytale belief that when she comes out of this health crisis there will be newly healed relationships or apologies for past behaviors.  I'm just too pragmatic for those kind of beliefs.

So where does this leave me?  Why am I even writing about this?  I write about it because it is real... because it is happening.  I share this here because I can, because it is my safe space.  I hope that by putting words to my feelings and my experiences it will bring me some sense of understanding... some sense of peace.

Peace.

just say yes

“Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better. What if they are a little coarse and you may get your coat soiled or torn? What if you do fail, and get fairly rolled in the dirt once or twice? Up again, you shall never be so afraid of a tumble.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson



I remember reading this quote at some point in my teens.  I was at a vulnerable place...not totally sure of myself, not sure who I really was or where I was going, but this quote struck a chord with me.  It's one of those things that I've looked back on many times.  It's something I often turn to when I'm trying to decided if I should venture out of my comfort zone, try something new, or head into uncharted territory.

Usually the answer to these questions is yes.

In today's society there is so much fear.  We are taught to find the safest route, to plan for the worst, and take all the precautions.   While this route of living my keep you safe and sound, I'd argue that it also leads to so many people missing out on the raw beauty of really living as well.  It can limit your 'experiments'.

Children are indoctrinated to "just say no".   Although, I'm not going to argue that it's not an important skill to learn (it certainly is),  I'd like to make the point that the ability and confidence to say YES is just as important.

A friend, former co-worker, and amazing woman I know recently left to spend a couple of months overseas.  She's traveling to several different countries and seeing a few friends a long the way.  A good portion of her time will be spent alone; in some areas that a less adventurous soul might think of as unsafe.  Some people that have gotten word of this trip have been thrilled for her, others... well, they just think it's crazy (and maybe a little stupid).   There were many steps she had to take to make this trip happen, so many opportunities to say no, to take the safe route; but she had the courage to say yes!  I guarantee that she will come back having seen and experienced new things... she will be changed.  These 'experiments' mold us closer and closer to who we wish to me.

Not all of these experiments are going to be multi-month long trips overseas.  They can be little, but they can still change you.

A couple of weeks ago a friend called me on a Saturday evening.  The hotel where she worked was hosting a large event and they had a couple of waitresses cancel at the last minute.  She asked if I would consider helping them out by waiting tables for the evening.  I've never worked in a restaurant in my life; the extent of my knowledge has been gained only by being on the paying end of the bill.  A more reasonable person would have looked at the situation and probably said, "no thanks".    My initial internal response was something not too far off of that.   In the spirit of full disclosure, I quickly brought my friend up to speed on my qualifications: zero.  Her response, "That's fine, you'll do great." After a moment of hesitation, the above quote came to mind.  Why not do this?  It's one more grain of sand I can throw into my pile of 'experiments'.  So after a quick change of clothes, off I went.  And ya know what?  It was great.  I wasn't the best server ever, the tips weren't crazy good, and my feet hurt at the end of the night...but it was wonderful.  I walked away from that with yet another reminder that I am capable of more than I think I am.  I just have to trust myself...and say yes!

Recently I took my very first retail job, working at one of my favorite clothing stores.  I hear so many people rag on retail jobs, but I've never held one.  I was worried that I might not be good at it.  I was worried that it might not work with my schedule.  I was worried that I would let someone down.  There were lots of reasons to say no...but I choose to say yes.  Who knows, I might love it.

At the end of the day you will never know unless you try.

So...
If a friend calls you and asks you to go on a last minute road trip... say yes!
If you are offered a new food that looks weird... try it!
If you get the chance to windsurf, or skydive, or cliff jump... do it!
If life presents you with the opportunity to try something new (if you at all can)... grab it by the horns and go along for the crazy ride.


It's been years since I first heard the quote above, but it seems the older I get, the more I turn to it.  In some ways I feel like I'm still that insecure girl.  I still don't feel as confident as I'd like, I still question who I am and what I'm doing with my life.  That being said,  I have learned that the more experiences I have, the happier I am.  They don't have to be big, or beautiful or even really all that good.  They just have to be different.  Through all of this I have learned there is one thing that I am sure of:

I rarely regret saying yes.

I'm working on happiness

"So, what are you doing now that you aren't working?'

I kinda dread those words.

Truth be told I doubt that they often carry judgement.  I'm probably putting my own fear on someone else's words.  Whatever the reason, I hate that question.

My kids are both school age, so that means that between the hours of 8:15 and 3:15 I'm without the responsibility of anyone else.  So how do I fill those hours?  Is that even a question that needs a response?

For some reason I feel the need to be able to explain to others how I fill my hours.  No, I'm not sitting around eating bonbons and watching soaps.  The TV doesn't even get turned on.  Sometimes I listen to records while I work (look the W word...even though I'm not getting paid), but truth be told, I rarely have the time to even turn music on.

So what does fill my hours?   Well, all the crap that I used to have to fit into the one hour between work and picking the kids up from school, for one.  Those tasks and errands, the things that had me running around like a chicken with my head cut off, the things that left me frazzled, stressed, and always feeling like I was forgetting something, these things get done now without stress.  The groceries get bought, and the oil gets changed.  The little appointments that required either time off work or the timing of a ninja are so much easier to fit in.  The kids appointments that required one parent take time off of work are no big deal anymore.  A few weeks ago my husband had to work out of town for the week, in the past this would have been a huge headache, as he was the one to get the kids to school, now it's no big deal.  In the evenings I can spend time with my husband rather than trying to get one last load of laundry done.  All in all things just run smoother.

Those tasks that were always getting put off are getting crossed off, little by little.

Yesterday I canned 16 pints of applesauce and 8 pints of salsa...in years past, this is something that just wouldn't have gotten done.

I get to have lunch with my kids every couple of weeks.

I'm able to take (baby) steps to building a business.

Ya know what else fills my days?  Relationships.

I'm not talking meeting the girls for gossip every day at 10am.  I'm talking being able to spend time with the friend who is really going through a rough time and needs an ear.  I'm talking spending time with the new mom who's feeling super cooped up, and being able to say yes when a friend asks for a favor.

I'm a month into the journey of being a stay at home mom with kids in school.  I like to think I'm a month into a weird journey of self discovery.  I haven't figured out all (or really even any) of the big questions that I have, but I have proven that a house runs a lot smoother when there is someone who can focus on all the little crap.

Last night I asked my husband how he feels about me being home.  I think he was a bit afraid to answer.  He simply said that he just wants me to be happy and that he feels like I've been happier.  I guess that's the ultimate goal for all of us.  Happier.  I'm hoping that not only will I be happier, but we will all feel the release of tension.  We will all be happier.

Maybe that's how I should answer when people ask what I'm doing now that I'm not working...

"I'm working on happiness"

Fashion Friday: september favorites

Okay, in an effort to have some repeat themes here, I've decided to designate Fridays as my day for fashion.

Incase you don't know me well, here are a few facts about (just a small) part of me.

• I love fashion
• I love putting together an outfit everyday 
• I love having my own style and trying new things
• While working the last four years I felt like these were things I just couldn't do.  I worked a job were activewear was required daily and I had a specific shirt I had to wear (I was teaching movement based, academic preschool at a gymnastics and swimming facility).  I was also swimming in a pool everyday as part of my job.  Fashion was basically thrown out the window.
• Now that I'm not working there anymore, it's important that I get this part of myself back.
• I've started an instagram to keep me accountable to this goal (username: thismontanastyle - just incase you want to look me up)

Okay...now that you have gone through Emily's Fashion 101 we can get on to the fun stuff...clothes.

The past month I've been participating in a few style challenges.   My hope was that they would encourage me to try new things, put outfits together in new ways, and think a little more outside the box.  And guess what?  It worked!  I've been trying some new things, and it's made me more aware of what I really like and what I really don't like.

I thought I'd share some of my favorites from the month with you.

I love all of these looks!   I learned some things about my style this month:

• I learned that I love dresses and skirts more than I thought I did.
• I can actually rock a skirt that emphasizes my waist (that one took some courage to try).  
• I'm loving all the layers.  I'm warmer, and more comfortable in layers, especially on the cooler   days.  
• I'm realizing that I actually don't have a ton of pieces that are easy to layer, so I'll be on the   lookout.  

I also have a few favorite pieces this month, stuff that I wore multiple times this month that maybe had been sitting in my closet unused for awhile.

• leopard flats- I've had these over a year and while they got some play now and then, this month I have worn them a lot.  Turns out that they go with everything!  Mine were super inexpensive, they came from Payless and are much like the these.
• military inspired vest- I'm wearing this a ton.  Its a perfect piece to layer over almost anything, and the color is neutral enough that it matches almost everything.  Mine came from the Buckle, but I've seen similar ones at Target and several other places.
• booties- all the booties.  they look great with everything and make even the most casual outfit look stylish.  

What are some items that are on good rotation in your closet?  What have you been wearing this month?  I'd love to know!

grilled guacamole

It's Sunday fun-day!!  I spent the day lifting apx 2.3 tons of hay...needless to say I'm pooped.   Because my body (and my brain) are slightly fried, I thought I'd share a new recipe that I made yesterday.

I'm a bit of a guacamole connoisseur.  I have a special, secret (okay, maybe not so secret) recipe that I make on a regular basis, but I also love ordering it while we are out, and judging, in the most judgy way, the quality of the restaurants guac.  I've had some very good, and some very bad, but I'm always up for try something new.

Recently when perusing a magazine I found a take on guacamole that I had never tried: grilled guacamole.  This recipe is more about grilling the ingredients before you put them together rather than plopping a spoonful of the delicious green goo on the grates.  I imdeiatly knew I was going to have to try it, and I was thrilled with the results...even better, so was my family.  My daughter loves guac, but shies away from spicy...this guac was a little spicy, but she still loved it.  My husband is a timid lover of the green stuff...but he loved it.  My son has never met a guacamole he liked...but even he said it was 'pretty good'.


It started  pretty simple:

Slice the ingredients into grill-able slices,
brush with Olive Oil and sprinkle with salt,
grill until charred but not burned.

The smell at this point was pretty fantasic...and I thought it was pretty beautiful too.

Next, chop all the ingredients (except limes) finely,

mix together and squeeze the limes over the whole mess,

toss well, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

That's about it.  The exact recipe can be found here, and I highly suggest you give it a try.

This recipe is a keeper.

easiest pickles

My garden is tiny.  A few raised beds and a wine barrel for herbs, that about sums it up.  But you would be amazed how much produce I get out of that little amount of space.  Now is the time of year where it seems to all come together for a perfect storm of too much produce, too little time.

That being said, this is also the time of year where I like to play 50's housewife and get all creative in the kitchen by doing some canning.

And by far and away the easiest thing I can is pickles.  It takes about 30 minutes to whip up a batch plus a little extra time if you want to water bath them to make them shelf stable.

Now if you go looking for a pickle recipe you are going to find a million...so now I present 1,000,001.

disclaimer:  You will find all kinds of information on the internet about acid to water ratios and what is and isn't safe.  This recipe is a fairly low acid recipe, but it's the one I got from my mom and she got from her mom.  It's the one we've always used and we have never had a problem.  If you are nervous about the lower amount of vinegar...go ahead and add more, it certainly won't hurt.

Supplies you will need:

cucumbers
fresh dill
vinegar
pickling salt
garlic and spicy peppers (if you are into that sort of thing...I am)
some crushed red pepper if you like it extra spicy (I do)
canning jars
new, unused lids to fit your jars
rings to fit your jars

Step 1. You'll need to start with clean jars.  I've read that you need to rinse them in boiling water, I think this is overkill.  A good wash with hot, soapy water followed up by a rinse in hot water is plenty good.

Step 2. pack those jars.  I always start with a good head of dill for each jar, followed by a couple of cloves of garlic (love garlic?  add more.  love good breath?  don't add any.), and whatever peppers you are planning on adding (jalapeno, serrano, habanero...they all work).  I find it works best to slice those peppers in half before adding to your jar.  Finally fill um up with freshly washed cucumbers.  You really need to pack those babies in there.  Get some muscle behind it and fill all the space that you can.  Keep in mind you will need to keep the top 1/2 inch of each jar clear and free of cucumber for your jars to seal properly.

3. Next we will need to make the brine, any this recipe could not be any easier:

9 cups water
3 cups vinegar
1/2 cup pickling salt

Add all three to a big stock pot and bring it to a boil.

4.  While the brine is coming to a boil we can move on to the next step: prepping our lids and rings for canning.  Place all the lids and rings you plan to use in a small pot, cover with water and bring them to a boil.  Once the water starts to boil, you can go ahead and turn the heat off.  Just leave them there until you are ready to use them.

5.  Once your brine is boiling you can start pouring it into the jars.  A large funnel will make this job infinitely easier (they sell canning sets that include some of the basics to make tasks like this easier).  As you pour the brine you want to make sure that you are covering all of the cucumbers and still leaving about 1/2 inch of head space at the top of the jar.

6.  Use a clean knife or spatula to make sure you don't have any air bubbles in your jars.  I just kind of poke around each jar and any bubbles that remain will pop up to the top. 

7.  After all the jars are full, wipe down the top edge of each jar with a clean, damp rag to make sure none of the brine sits on the edge (it can cause problems with sealing).

8.  At this point you will want to either strain the hot water from the small pot of lids and rings or use a magnetic lid lifter to take them one at a time out of the water and place them on the jars.  Once the lids are in place, screw on the rings and tighten.  

9.  Perfecto!  Your pickles are now ready for the fridge!!  Wait at least two weeks before enjoying. 

 But wait...what if you want to seal the jars so that they are shelf stable?  In that case move on to the next step.

10.  If you want your pickles to be shelf stable, prepare a hot water canner like this one by filling it with water (you will want to make sure that you add enough water that your jars will be covered with the water once you add them to the pot as well).  Bring that water to a boil.  Add your jars one at a time to the boiling water.  Cover the pot and boil for 10 minutes.  Remove the jars from the hot water bath.  As they cool they will seal.  You can check the seals by pushing on the top of the lids.  Any that did not seal will move slightly up and down when pushed on...these will need to be kept in the fridge.  If the lid is tight and doesn't move up and down when pushed on, it has formed a seal and is now shelf stable.  

You did it!!  Once you do this a few times, it will become so quick and easy that you will be able to whip up a batch of pickles in no time.

The best part of this recipe is that as long as you have the proportions right, you can adjust it to your needs.  More spicy or less.  More or less garlicky.  Try using green beans instead of cucumbers to make dilly beans, or leave out the dill and use cauliflower instead for some pickled cauliflower.  It really is easy and doesn't take much time.

The best part...they are WAY better than store bought pickles!

Enjoy!

the art of being alone

It's totally quiet as I sit in my house right now.  I can hear the hum of the Keurig every so often as it cycles to keep the water warm, and the clicking of my keys while I type.  There is the soft hum of the refrigerator, and every once in awhile I hear my sleeping dog sigh, but besides these sounds there is nothing else there.

And I love it.

When I was in college I knew a girl who positively hated being alone.  If a night came where she didn't have plans, she would come down to the store I worked at and sit and wait just so she didn't have to be alone.  At one point I tried talking to her about it.  I suggested she take the time to read a book, or get a project done around her apartment, or maybe just go for a walk.  Her response was clear, although somewhat befuddling to me... she just couldn't stand to be alone.

Even then, in my late teens, I didn't understand this at all.  I loved people, loved going out, loved parties and friends, and all the normal college things, but I also loved to be alone.  I could get so much more done, I could really think through things, I could become more 'me' when alone.  At the time I chalked this friend up to being somewhat immature.  Maybe she just wasn't comfortable enough with who she was to be okay being alone for the evening.  Maybe her adolescent need for attention was still strong.  Whatever it may have been, I figured that was the kind of thing that one eventually 'outgrows'.

But I was wrong.

Fast forward 15 years to a time in my life where I am a stay at home mom with little kids, and playdates, and mom friends.  I was shocked to find that more than one of the new friends and acquaintances I met seemed to be saddled with the same fear that I had seen in my college friend.  Their lives had to be filled up with playdates and errands, any down time was filled with phone calls and busy work.  I was shocked to learn that for a stay at home mom, these women hated to be home by themselves.

I didn't understand.  The more I thought about it, the more I came to realize that I was looking at the same problem I saw when I was a teen.  Some people never really learn the art of being alone.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that it is just that - an art.  To really be alone, you have to really be okay with the person that you are.  You have to have some level of internal confidence and be willing to accept yourself in the stark lighting that is solitude.  There are no friends or small talk to occupy your mind.  There is only quiet and your thoughts.

Like any art, this one takes practice.  If you aren't practiced in it, it's going to be very hard.  Once you have mastered it, you can wield your brush to create beautiful things...mostly yourself.  I've found that time alone is when I can look at myself in the most raw way to find who I am as a person, and alternately, who I want to be as a person.  It's in these times that I can find the parts of my life that I need to work on, and the parts of my life that I'm so proud of.   The path isn't revealed in some biblical way, but at least I can envision where I am, and where I want to be.   I walk away from these moments with a renewed inner confidence that I actually am pretty awesome.

I wish I could go back to that girl in college and sit down and talk with her.  I wish I could tell her that she was good enough to be by herself...that she didn't need to surround herself with the mental noise of others all the time.  I wish I could go back to have a heart to heart with my mom friends, although I'm not really sure that they would have been willing to hear what I was trying to tell them.

I wish I could tell them that once you are okay being by yourself, you are pretty much okay being anywhere.

I've lost track of my college friend over the years, but chances are she's married, maybe she has a few kids at home.  I hope that wherever she is, she has learned the art of being by herself.  I hope she has learned that there is joy in silence.

Now excuse me while I sit here and drink my coffee in peace and practice the art of being alone.

Every once in a while

I've talked about this before...Having a tween is so hard.

I distinctly remember one interaction I had with my mom when I was a tween.
 
     It was late evening, and I think I was supposed to be asleep, or at least in bed.  I don't remember what drew me out of my bedroom and into the living room, but something did.  As I was walking down the hall towards the living room I could hear my mom on the phone, and based on the conversation they were having, I knew that she was talking with her best friend who lived on the other side of the country.  I also don't remember what made me stop and listen to what was being said, but I did.  What I do remember was my mom saying:

         "I feel like I just never know which Emily I'm going to get, the happy one or the moody one."
 
For whatever tween, hormonal, emotional reason, hearing this sent me into a crazy spiral.  I remember being so mad...I mean, what could my mom be talking about...I was just me...just Emily... always Emily.

Fast forward 24 odd years and I totally get it.  I hate to admit it, but I totally get it.  I honestly don't remember being much of a typical tween, but the fact that I remember that interaction means that I certainly was.

Now I'm in the boat my mom was in.  Sometimes my Sweet Girl is so happy, easy to get along with, and thoughtful, other times...well, lets just say, not so much.  It really is a daily struggle, and sometimes the only thing that gets me through it is knowing that my friends with tween girls are going through the same thing.  I'm not alone.  She really is normal.  These are the things I keep repeating to myself.

But, like I said, there are the moments when she is one of the sweetest girls I have ever had the joy of knowing.  These moments, when there are random acts of kindness and pure love, remind me that maybe I'm not doing EVERYTHING wrong, maybe things are going alright.  Every once in a while I'm reminded that we really are doing something right.

Yesterday was one of those moments.

It was the kids last day of summer vacation.  I had basically told them that they could do whatever they wanted until we had to head into town for some last minute, get ready for school, errands.  They watched too much TV, they played with legos, they ate junk food...all the things summers are supposed to be made of.  Then Sweet Girl asked Little Man if he would like to ride his bike with her down to the pond.  Sure...and they are off.  The only inkling I had that anything special was about to go down was that she had her purse with her.  There is a little market by the pond that sells some basic groceries and I thought she might have her eye on some candy.  Well, 20 minutes later and I hear the kids coming back, and one of them has a treat: ice cream, but it's not Sweet Girl...she surprised her brother with an ice cream cone.

My heart swelled with love at this sight.

The act of giving and not receiving.
The random act of kindness.
The act of finding joy in someone else's happiness.

It was one of my favorite moments all summer long.

So as I sit here, enjoying the silence that the first day of school has brought upon my house, I am going to put this one in the bank.  This memory will be stored away in a sacred place to be called on when needed.  In those moments where I struggle to parent a tween, in the moments where I wonder where my sweet girl has gone, I will call upon it as reassurance that I am doing something right.

Every once in awhile the universe gives us the gift of being able to see the forest through the trees.

don't waste this

This morning I took milk and juice to a PTC hosted breakfast for the teachers at my sons school, then I went for a run, and followed that up with making eggs for breakfast for my daughter.  These may seem like small things, but to me they are huge.

You see I quit my job about  2.5 months ago, but today is the first day that I have felt the realization that I'm not working.

Today would have been my first day back at work after summer break.

As I was running this morning I was thinking about it.  I thought about my fellow teachers at the school where I taught.  I could guess what they were thinking...the mixed thoughts of excitement, apprehension, and wishes for just one more cup of coffee on what felt like a very early morning.  I know the feeling well, the nerves about meeting a new set of preschoolers, and knowing that the first few days with a class full of three year olds is always crazy.

Being out there, running in the morning sunshine, rather than at work, was a bit of an epiphany.  I just kept thinking:

"Don't waste this."

I don't really know what the future holds.  Right now I'm running down a crazy path, seeing if I can create a successful(ish) small business making handmade jewelry (oh, on that note check out my instagram: copperandoakjewelry).  I read somewhere recently that success isn't knowing what you want to do, but rather being willing to pick a path and follow it.  It may not be exactly what you had hoped for, but you can always go back to the beginning and start over.  True failure only occurs when you aren't willing to begin the journey.

I'll never know unless I try.

So I'm off to tackle my to-do list, call friends to make plans, clean my house, spend the last couple days with my kids before they start school, volunteer with the PTA, help out friends when I can, make jewelry and sell it...

Just don't waste this time.

these memories are etched in stone

I remember exactly where I was 9 years ago.  I was at Costco.

I remember I ran into a friend while I was there, we chatted about life, and how I was feeling.  At apx. 37 weeks pregnant I wasn't feeling great.

I remember some of what I bought that day.  I remember buying pork, bringing it home and dividing the huge, Costco sized, package up into smaller packages for freezing.

I remember that the little boy in my belly hadn't been very active that day, so I had a glass of orange juice and laid down to see if I could get him moving.

I remember my husband encouraging me to call the Doctor when the OJ didn't help, when the nap didn't help.

I remember driving myself to the hospital, sure that I would be hooked up to monitors for at least an hour...how I would have to push a little button...how the nurses would tell me to head back home. They would tell me that my baby was fine, that 'room to move' was just getting sparse in that great big belly of mine.

I was convinced I'd be driving myself back home that evening, bummed to lose one of our last afternoons as a family of three.

The details of that day are etched in my memory.

I never expected that once I was hooked up to the machines and wires I wouldn't have to push that little button even once.

I never imagined that they would call for a tech, and she would hook me up to an ultrasound machine. That she would sit and watch my baby's heart rate go up and up, and that the sweet baby in my tummy would refuse to move the whole time she watched.

I never imagined that they would tell me that I needed to call my husband, that he should come, without our daughter, that he should bring a hospital bag.

I never imagined they would tell me that they couldn't wait any longer...

That we were having a baby now.

Fast forward nine years.

I never would have imagined how my son would love math and science.  How he'd dream of being an environmental scientist to help save animal habitat.

I never would have imagined the heart of gold he would have.  How he'll spend his allowance on a toy for the dog, or give it to a homeless person instead of saving for toys.

I never would have imagined that he'd have his own sense of style, with shaggy, surfer-boy hair, and a love of crazy sneakers.

I never would have imagined that my son would be so strong, and work so hard at a sport that he loves.

I never would have imagined that he would have the same sense of adventure that I do.  That he would love climbing mountains and swimming lakes.  That he would dream of traveling to Egypt and Africa.

I never would have believed I could love him so much.

Happy Birthday Little Man!

In this moment of happiness and joy for me and my family, I want to take a moment and acknowledge that things turned out good for us.  That night in the hospital my boy was born with nothing that some antibiotics, love from family, and good care from amazing doctors and nurses couldn't fix.

We are the lucky ones.

My heart is with you today if you have suffered from infertility, miscarriage, or infant/child loss.

My heart is with you.

being a girl is exhausting

The other day I was struggling to find the time to schedule a manicure.  I realize this may sound like the pinnacle of first-world problems...and it probably is, but hear me out.

You see, I try to get a manicure every few weeks.  I like having pretty nails, I think most girls do, but by husband really likes when I have pretty nails.  I figure it's a small price to pay to look good for my man, but sometimes timing it is tough.  Trying to find an hour to schedule that manicure every 2-3 weeks can be tricky at best.  As I sat, looking at my schedule, on the phone with the lovely woman who does my nails, trying to find a time that worked for both of us, I was reminded of one thing:

This being a girl shit is rough.

A couple of weeks earlier I had been talking to an acquaintance at the gymnastics school where my son goes.  The lovely woman had the most beautiful eyelashes.  They were the kind that are so gorgeous, full and beautiful, that I figured she must have extensions.  My lashes are nothing like that. They are short and not exactly full... I live and die by "Their Real" mascara thanks to my friends over at Benifit.   Hmm, maybe I should consider lash extensions.  Once again I was reminded that:

This being a girls stuff is exhausting.

Flash back even farther to the beginning of the summer when I had forgotten to make a wax appointment until the last minute with the amazing lady who's job it is to rid me of unwanted hair. Luckily she had one time slot left before I left town.  Yet another reminder that:

This being a girl business is grueling.

And as I sit here, typing this post, I'm yet again reminded that I REALLY need to make an appointment for a hair cut/color with my wonderful woman who does my hair...

crap...this being a girl situation is a full time job.

Nails are painted (or acrylic nails are applied), hair is removed, lashes are added, hair is cut...and colored...and maybe added if you are the extension type of girl.  The list could go on...we could get into makeup or maybe skin treatments...blah, blah, blah.

Now please don't take this the wrong way.  I love being a girl.  I love putting outfits together (as proven by my Instagram style account: thismontanastyle).  I love looking good (or at least trying my best) when I go out.  I love getting a pedi with girlfriends.  I love trying new things with my hair.  But at some point even a girly-girl like me has to take a step back and wonder how we created this situation.

For one week I would LOVE, just love, if all the men in my life had to live as girls...hair, clothes, makeup, nails...and they would certainly be required to get a brazilian.  I'm not quite sure how we ended up in this place where women work so hard to look 'good', and most dudes just roll out of bed, quick shower, throw on some clothes and can count that as looking 'good'.

I wish I had some great idea on how to try and change this situation, but I don't.  I guess the one thing I hope is that if any dude reads this, they start to realize, even just a little, the work that goes into a girl looking 'good'.

In the mean time, I'm just gonna hope that my man notices my manicure.

Peace.

Adventure Thursday

Things do not always go the way that I think they should, but the older I get the more I'm believing that things do always go the way the universe intends.

One great example of this is what I've lovingly dubbed Adventure Thursday.

A few weeks back I realized that as the summer was beginning to wane the list of small(ish), Montana day-trips that I had planned was not getting much shorter.  I had been so busy with the longer, more involved trips, as well as the (unending) work of trying to create my own small business, that these little (yet important) adventures were getting pushed to the wayside.  I was feeling pretty disappointed in myself for letting this happen and I realized that I needed to pencil in some time in my planner specifically for this reason.

Thus was born Adventure Thursday.  One day a week when I will not work, and the day (well, at least a good chunk of the day) will be devoted to heading out somewhere new with my kids.

I had high hopes of excited children with smiling faces who were having so much fun that they couldn't possibly whine or argue (why would they when they are having the time of their lives).  I imagined them falling into bed early in the evening because they were so worn out after a day of adventuring in the mountains with fresh air.  I even thought they would be so thankful to me, their loving, thoughtful mother, who had put together such a special day for them.  I pictured myself tucking them into bed and then sitting on the couch, with a glass of wine in my hand, feeling blissful after spending a full day winning at motherhood.

Well, as I'm sure you can imagine, things didn't go quite as I had planned.

The problems started before we had even left the house.  This kids couldn't agree on where we should go to get some items for our picnic by a lake. They whined and argued, while I got frustrated that they were more concerned with getting what they wanted rather than being thankful that they got to have a special day (lunch included).

The problems continued when we got to the trailhead...or what I thought was the trailhead.  Things didn't look quite like I remembered from hiking in the area several years back.  Our destination wasn't even on the map at the trailhead.  The kiddos were starting to question my knowledge about where we were and therefor if I could even be trusted to keep them alive.  But we continued on...we might not be were I intended, but we were at a beautiful trailhead and damnit we were going to have a good time anyhow.

Next up we ran into some hikers that I would have very much liked to punch in the throat.  A group of older ladies who I can only assume were from out of state...and here to experiance the great outdoors. They talked loudly and obnoxiously,  they questioned several parenting decisions I made within the span of minutes that we were in earshot of each other, and talked down to me quite a lot when they found out (thanks dear children of mine) that we were not at our intended trailhead (which was quite ironic as it turns out that they weren't either).

But, after hiking in for a good mile or so, my frustrations started to lead to gratitude.  The trail that we were on turned out to be quite beautiful, and I started to feel so appreciative that the universe had led us here.  I was reminded that even though I am very much in charge of my life,  I am very much not in charge of what the world will put in my path.

where we ended up:

I was starting to feel very zen about the whole thing, but pre-teens have a way of putting an end to almost any zen you think you find.  I won't go into the details, but suffice it to say that all was lovely until we drove back down to a nearby lake to have our (much fought over) picnic lunch.  It was at this peaceful moment that the Tween decided it would be the perfect time to lay out (in bullet point form) all the ways in which I had fallen short as a mom that day.

And I swore that was the end of Adventure Thursday.

Luckily my husband was there, on the other end of the phone, to talk me off the metaphorical ledge, and after a weeks worth of time passed by I decided that I was feeling strong enough to once again venture out with my children for a day of wandering off the beaten path.

And I'm so glad I did.

This time, wether it was because the universe really owed me a solid, or maybe because my husband threatened to ground the kids until school was back in session if he had to talk me off the ledge again, things were much more as I had envisioned them.  Although part of that is probably due to the fact that I had some time to adjust my vision...bring it a bit closer to reality.  There were far fewer complaints from the very beginning.  The kiddos seemed honestly happy to spend the day together and even the time in the car drew very few complaints.  I felt happy and so in awe of the beauty we saw.  

the following adventure Thursday

One of my favorite sayings goes something like this:

Right when you think you've got it all figured out, is right when it will all start to fall apart.

I'm thinking the universe needed to remind me of this once again.  I had it a little too planned out in my head.  I thought I knew what the ideal Adventure Thursday looked like.  As cheesy as it sounds, I needed the reminder to go with the flow, to relax and try to enjoy the journey, not to force it.   

As my husband said (whilst talking me of aforementioned ledge), "babe, you took the wrong road and ended up hiking somewhere new...sounds like an adventure to me!".

Project Pan

Alright, I'm gonna get really honest here...and since this is a no judgement zone, I feel pretty safe letting the cat out of the bag.  I have a problem.  You can find it overflowing my bathroom drawers, on my bathroom counter, and even in my children's bathroom.  The problem is an over abundance of 'beauty' products.  Too many lotions, too much soap, maybe even too much makeup.   I know I'm not alone in this.  In fact, I would be willing to bet that at least half of american women my age have the same issue.   You may be wondering why, and I'll probably sound like most guilty parties when I say,

"It really isn't my fault!"  

I blame it on one thing:  I'm a girl.  That means that regularly, and for as long as I can remember, people have thought I stink.  At least that's what I assume, based on the gift giving nature of a lot of people towards women.  Lotion, soap, perfume, body wash, more lotion, the list could go on.  I realize that hearts are in the right place, but it can get frustrating.  

Okay, maybe I'm not taking on enough of the blame.  

I do like to occasionally buy my own lotion, and I'll admit that I have a really hard time leaving those little travel size bottles in hotel rooms, and maybe I have a hard time throwing out 'useable' product. Well, It's starting to sound like I may have more to do with this problem than I originally let on.  

Either way it isn't pretty.

It looks something like this:

and this:

and this:

Oh lordy, and even this:

Wow, now that I feel as if I've aired my dirty laundry in public, lets go about finding a way to help solve this problem.  

That's where Project Pan comes in.  

I recently stumbled upon someone blogging about Project Pan (I wish I could remember who it was because I would happily give them credit) but I had no idea what it was.  Turns out it's a whole movement devoted to women (or I suppose men) paring down their beauty supplies by using up products they currently own (no waste).  Sounded great, but I needed a way to keep myself accountable for this...that's where this blog comes in.

Honestly, when I actually sat down to start this, it felt a little overwhelming to look at my beauty stash.  I decided I needed a place to start.  I knew I would feel better about it if I could see measurable progress, so I went with the area where I use the most product:  lotion.  

I have so many, and I decided the best thing I could do was to gather all of the lotions up and actually see what I was dealing with.  Here's the result:

It may look like a small picture, but let me tell you...That is A LOT of lotion and moisturizer!  Believe it or not I actually found about three more bottles after I took this picture...yikes!!  No one should have that much.  

So the plan is that I'm going to start with one, use it until it's gone, then move on to the next one. I'll give updates along the way as well as reviews about some of the products (is it something I would purchase again?).  If it's a product that I end up absolutely hating, I'll just toss it and let you know, but I'm hoping to have as little waste as possible.

If you want to join with me on this project let me know.  I'd love to have some company along the way.  Wish me luck...and less lotion.

plan it

I think I may be in love.

This time it isn't with my husband, or even Charlie Hunnam (gasp).  Nope, I'm in love with my Paper Planner, and I want to shout about my love affair from the top of tall buildings.

It started when my husband tried to set me up with Paper Planners newer, cooler, less bulky older brother, Digital Calendar.  We dated on and off for years.  I tried to make it work, I really did.  But Digital Calendar just wasn't flexible enough for me.  He only saw things one way, he wasn't colorful or fun.  Digital Calendar was totally useless when my phone occasionally died, and wasn't easy to work with at all.

After several years of trying to make things work, I gave up.  Digital Calendar and I just aren't meant to be.  That's just about the time when I was reunited with my childhood love of Paper Planner.

Okay, all kidding aside, this really is a pretty accurate description of my history with Planners, date books and calendars.   So, you can understand my excitement when I found something that has actually worked for me.

A few months back, a friend of mine showed me her Passion Planner.  It seemed like it was well laid out and I love the focus on positivity and goal setting (and reaching).  When I looked them up on the internet I was totally pleased to find that (since it was almost half way through the year) they had 2016 planners on sale for around 15 bucks.  That seemed like a good price to give it a try.  If it didn't work out I wasn't out much cash.

I started small, entering my kids after school activities and using it to keep track of my to do list.  Slowly I started adding more and more.  I was keeping track of meal planning, and accomplishments.  By this point I was sold.  This really was working for me.  The cherry on top of the cake has been discovering that there is a whole community of Passion Planner users there to support each other.  I've found Etsy shops dedicated to making stickers specially made to fit in the Passion Planner to add to its uses and help you increase your productivity.

But the best part is that I have seen it work.  Over the past few weeks I have felt my productivity increase.  I have been able to better set goals, and then reach them.  Beginning to create and sell my jewelry has meant setting lots of goals, being able to set up the steps to reach them, and them climb those steps.  As I continue down the road of starting this baby business I am feeling pretty confident, and that is definitely aided by my Passion Planner.


This Planner may not work for you.  Maybe you get along great with Digital Calendar.  Whatever your planner status, I urge you to find what works best for you and use it to its max.

putting myself out there

One of the reasons I started this blog was to keep me me accountable and provide a venue for my thoughts and fears as I quit my job and tried to 'figure out who I want to be when I grow up'.

Dear God has it been scary.

I have things that I want to do, but almost all of them involve stepping out of my comfort zone, and putting myself 'out there'.  I've hemmed, I've hawed, I've talked a big game, but it's taken me some time to build up the confidence to really dive in.

But I've done it.

One of the avenues I've wanted to explore is jewelry making.  Not all that long ago, I became interested in the process of electroforming (read more here) and started making a few pieces for myself and family.  Well, it was quickly apparent that there was interest in my jewelry from people outside of my circle of friends and family, and since I enjoy the process I thought I'd try making some pieces to sell.  Farmers market was the obvious choice, as it's a really low upfront cost, and there is lots of exposure.

So I got to making jewelry...trying to decide how much I really needed to have on hand was hard, but I finally got to a place where I felt comfortable.  Then came the really hard part: Putting myself out there.

I did it.  I closed my eyes and dove in and I'm glad I did.  Last Tuesday was my first market (notice I say first, because there will be more).  It went well, I sold a few pieces and also made some connections.  I'm sure this isn't the path to fame and fortune, but it felt really good to make a few bucks entirely with my own hands.

Next up Etsy...then I conquer the world!!

15 years

Today is The Man and I's anniversary.  We have officially been married forever (well, 15 years which basically feels like forever when you get married young ).  When people, especially younger people, find out how long we've been married they will occasionally comment with something to the effect of:

You must be soulmates.

To be honest I think the whole 'soulmates' thing is horse shit.  7 billion people in the world and I'm supposed to think I stumbled on the one guy who I could stand to live with and still love for this many years?  Nope.  We have just managed to figure out how make things work, even when things aren't at their best.  I could sum up how to have a successful marriage in one sentence:

Don't be a shit head.

But somehow I think I could be accused of over simplifying some things.  In an attempt to avoid that I've decided to come up with my very own top 10 list.

 "How The Man and I have stayed married for 15 years" top 10 list:

10.  We are okay with the fact that we are both going to change.  The Man is a different person (figuratively, not literally) now than he was when we got married, and thank God I'm different too.  I'm proud of the ways I've grown and changed.  I think I'm smarter, stronger, and more sure of myself than I was then.  Change is good.

9.   He makes me breakfast, and I make him potroast.  You may think I jest, but pancakes and bacon are direct roads to my heart.  It's hard not to love someone who feeds you delicious foods...even harder not to love them when they also clean the dishes after they cook.

8.  We support each other in our craziness.  I have a way of coming up with really wonderful, and stupid, and grand ideas.  The Man never looks at me like I'm crazy (well, not totally), and he'll play along at least some of the time.  It may be a 1000+ road trip over a three day weekend, or just a overly ambitious hike.  He might not join me for all my adventures, but he's always supportive and gives me the space to stretch my wild heart.  I'd like to think I do the same for him.  Support him, encourage him...give him the occasional nudge to try something he's been thinking about.

7.   We try to look good for each other.  I try not to wear clothes that he hates (at least most of the time), and I make sure my nails look good because I know that he likes that.  Hit the gym, and stay away from mom-jeans.  Taking care of yourself physically not only makes you look better, but it means you have more confidence and that's sexy too.

6. We try to let little shit roll off our backs.  Sometimes The Man does stuff that drives me crazy...and I KNOW I do things that drive him mad.  But if you let the little shit build up it becomes big.  So I do my best to let the little things go (although, I'll be honest, sometimes this is harder than it sounds).

5. We make memories together...lots of them.  Take lots of risks, go on lots of adventures.  They don't have to be big, or far away, or expensive, but they have to have intention.  This is the fuel that drives my life.  As cheesy as it sounds, I really believe that you have to make everyday an adventure.  If you try to find adventure in the little things, everyday life is much more enjoyable.

4.  We keep the house clean.  Okay, this may sound silly, but I really believe it helps.  If the house gets too messy it's harder for either of us to relax and enjoy each other.  Sometimes all it takes if an extra 15 minutes a day to pick up the clutter.

3. We just do it.  Lets talk about sex; with kids and jobs, and all the other life crap, sometimes it's hard to get in the mood.  I've found that if I just go with it, even if I'm not in the mood to start with, I'll end up being really glad I did.   And while we are on the topic, have fun with it, be adventurous, be open.  I guess what I'm saying is: Don't get in a rut.

2.  We try to be thoughtful.  We do little things for each other.  It may be bringing home flowers, or a bottle of whiskey.  It could be anything, but just try to be thoughtful and do little things for your partner.  If they are stressed, try to find a way to help.  Shoot a middle of the day text, or leave a note in the morning.  Just let your partner know that you are thinking about them and that you've got their back.

1.  We spend time apart.  I really believe this one is key.  I don't want to spend all my time around The Man.   There isn't anyone on the planet that I would want to be around all the time.  Hell, if I could I'd love to have some time away from myself every once in a while.  He's totally on the same page.  He spends one evening a week out with friends.  I usually take about one trip a year without him.  We spend time with friends.  We have hobbies that don't involve each other.  I'm not sure I'm going to go as far as to say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it certainly doesn't hurt.

Well, there ya go.

10 things that have helped The Man and I stay married for forever.  They might not work for everyone, but they have certainly helped us.  Every relationship is different, so it's important to find your own list.

What works for you?

I'm off to pack for camping... with children and my parents...not exactly a romantic way to spend our anniversary...but I'm alright with that.

When the timing is right

A couple weeks ago, I wrote about our Sweet Little Dog passing away.  Its funny how often I think of her; how often I still get a little choked up.  I miss her dearly.  I'm pretty sure no dog out there could cuddle as well as she could.  Wether it was a stubbed toe or a horrible case of strep throat, that little dog could make anyone feel a little bit better.

She will never be replaced.

I assumed that it would take me a long time to even want to look at other dogs, but I was wrong.  I quickly became that weirdo on the street who pointed out every dog that passed within 20 yards.  I petted every dog that I could, and I'm sure I made more than one dog owner feel a bit uncomfortable...hey, is this crazy lady going to try to take off with my dog.  I think, along with missing Sweet Pepper, I just missed the companionship.

So it didn't take long before my children's (and husbands) requests to go and look at the dogs at the shelter were answered with, "yes".

It started with a dog named Tater.  He was an 11 year old terrier.  I told myself repeatedly not to fall for an old dog, that my heart can't take another loss too soon.

But we went, and he was so sweet.  The kids fell in love instantly (although I'm pretty sure they would have fallen in love with any of the dogs instantly).  I started to go down that path too.  That was until the shelter representative told me that Tater had just had half of his teeth removed, and would soon need the other half removed as well...to the tune of $1500.00.  Yikes.  I mean, we all adopt dogs knowing they are going to cost money, but to have a bill that big right off of the bat was something we just couldn't take on.  So with my upset, whiney, unhappy, and begging for me to reconsider, kids in tow, we looked around at the other dogs.

There was the typical set:

• cute puppies playing (and peeing) happily.  No kids, we ARE NOT getting a puppy. 
• dogs who wont stop barking
• nervous older dogs, all of whom seem to be calling to me to take them home
• and that one, the quiet one, sticking her head around the corner trying to get up the nerve to come out and say hello.  

Those quiet ones always have a way with me.  

We managed to leave the shelter dog free that day, but I just could not get that quiet one out of my mind.  So a couple of days later we went back, and she was still there, and still shy.  We took her outside and played with her a little, and she started to come out of her shell a little bit.   The next day we went back AGAIN, and by this point she had my heart.  

So we took her home.  I'm so grateful that we did.  

Her name is Bergy and I'm sure you will be hearing lots about her.

Our goal was never to replace Pepper, we couldn't even if we wanted to.  But it sure is nice to have a dog around again.

Oh and PS.  Tater got adopted out the same day that we took our Bergy home.  A great big THANK YOU to Heart of the Valley Animal Shelter for helping animals find forever home and helping people find new friends.

how much is too much?

I have a tween at home.

As I have learned over the last year or so, that means lots of complaining... It's too hot outside.  It's too cold outside.  Homework takes FOREVER.  I have NOTHING TO WEAR.  All my friends have phones...

I could go on and on, but I bet you get the gist.

Due to the high volume of complaints that are in circulation throughout my house, we have been talking a lot about why complaining isn't good.  About how it can make you negative, only focusing on what you don't like.   About how, in turn, you only see the bad in the world and it can lead to a very negative outlook on life.

Recently, in an effort to try and combat the onslaught of complaints, hubs and I sat down to discuss ideas on how to battle.  There were lots of ideas but all seemed shitty.

• battle fire with fire (complaints get responded to with complaints)...we decided this would form a vicious cycle.
• ignore any complaining that found it's way out of the tweens mouth...well, sometimes she has a right to complain.
• make her list three positive things every time we caught her complaining...well, I guess I'm just not Mary Poppins because thought of this made me throw up in my mouth a little bit.

Only one idea seemed reasonable enough to try:

• give her complaint cards.  The idea here being that she starts the day with a certain number of complaint cards.  She can use them however she sees fit, but when she's out...she's out.  Hopefully this would make her think twice about complaining.  Is this complaint really worth it...

I'm sure you get the idea.

At first this seemed like a great tactic to try.  Although I wasn't sure what would happen when she ran out of cards and continued to complain, my hope was that at least it would make her more aware.  But the more I started to think, the more I started to worry.

We all complain, right?  Some complaints are totally valid.  I'm often a sounding board for my hubs when he gets home from work, and he does the same for me.  What is that other than complaining?  What about all the times I groan from the fridge, "Hey, who put the milk carton back empty?". 

The more I thought about it the more I realized how complaining is part of my normal, day to day, life.  I complain when I can't find something I am excited to wear, when plans I make fall through, or when I have to do dishes (or laundry) for what seems like the zillionth time that day.  I have been known to complain when someone ate the last apple, or used the last roll of paper towels and didn't let me know.  I complain about the cold, and sometimes the heat.  In fact, I just complained (albeit only in my head) about getting interrupted for about the 20th time while writing this blog post. The list is endless.  I could summarize it by saying this:  I realized that I have been known to complain when I breathe.

So after a bit of self-realization that my daughter may in fact be following in my footsteps I started to wonder what it would be like if someone gave me five complaint cards for the day and told me that was all I got.

I doubt it would be pretty (and I'm pretty sure there would be complaining from yours truly).

In the end, we decided to nix the complaint cards idea - I mean if mom can't get her shit under control, I can't very well expect tween to.  We had (yet another) good long talk about what it means to complain, and how some things are worth complaining about while other aren't...at all.  Things seem to have gotten better (for now), but I'm sure we will cross this bridge again. 

It turns out that focusing on the positive and not letting complaining get out of control is probably something that we all need to work on.  Because, we really are SO lucky.

the art of loss

Let me start by being very clear:  I am not much of a 'feelings' girl.

I'm not a cryer, in fact if you know me well, you will know that there are few things I dislike more than crying in front of people.  It's not that I want to seem stoic, or hardened.  It's simply not 'me'.  I don't like the way crying makes me feel, nor do I think it helps me cope.  It simply makes me feel uncomfortable and out of control of my emotions.

But, the last week or so, I've been having daily bouts with the feels.

We lost our dog.

Actually we didn't lose her at all, and I kind of hate that term.  We knew where she was all along.  She was with us, visiting vet after vet...getting sicker and sicker, with seemingly no idea what was wrong with her.  Until the vets had a theory...but no answer.  So we did the kindest thing we could do.  We had her euthanized.

It has been so damned hard.

Putting the dog down was awful.  I was a blubbering mess.  I was in it deeper with the feels than I have been in years.  But equally as bad (or maybe worse) was having to come home and tell my 8 and 11 year old that we had to put the dog to 'sleep'.  They not only lost a dog, but a best friend.  They lost the soul who would listen to their childhood complaints without rebuttal, who would lay with them when they were sick and help them feel better, who calmed their fears, and who was their ever present companion on the crazy rollercoaster called childhood.

And loss is something that's not easy to deal with when you are a child (heck, its not easy as an adult either).  Watching them grieve has reminded me of the five stages of grief.

1. denial
2. anger
3. bargaining
4. depression
5. acceptance

The loss didn't seem to hit my 8 year old right away, but a couple of days later it hit him like a semi-truck.  We had just come home from a long day.  My son was upset and tired and needed comfort...in the form of his dog.  The reality set in that she wasn't there to hold and cuddle hit him so hard.  The result involved much wailing and crying.  And much denial.  He insisted (through sobs that I'm surprised didn't result in a visit from CPS) that our dog was coming back.  That he would wake up in the morning and she would be there.   At first my husband and I tried to reason with him.  This just resulted in more tears.  We tried to divert his attention.  This just made him even more mad.

Things were spiraling out of control quickly.

His tears had eventually started my daughter crying...and I was on the verge as well.  This had been going on for close to 45 minutes and I saw no end in sight.  Eventually I lost it as well and all the tears that I'd been holding back while I watched him cry started to stream down my cheeks.

Through my tears all I could say was: "I know buddy, I miss her too.  I hope she comes back tomorrow too."

*Obviously I know she's not coming back, but that doesn't help me from wanting it in the moment.*

That was it.  That was what I needed to say all along.  Just the reminder that he wasn't in it all alone was enough to help my son crawl out of that dark hole and start calming down.  Having his feelings validated was what he needed.  He didn't need me to try to solve the problem (not that I could have anyhow), he just needed to know that he wasn't in it alone.

Eventually the tears stopped that night (from me included), and I was left with the reminder that kids are going through the same process we are.  That night my son was smack dab in the middle of the denial stage.  I had been there at some point too.  These stages of grief manifest differently on different people.

We are all there...trying to climb out of the same dark hole.

RIP Pepper Potts