Ulla Johnson Devi acid-washed denim dress, Golden Goose Mid Star Glittered Sneakers, Saint Jane CBD Luxury Body Serum, Mineral Robyn for Recovery CBD Tincture, HORA x POOSH Hyaluronic Halo + CBD facial serum, Mansur Gavriel Mini Mini Bucket Bag (via consignment) (similar), “Shake It Out” by Florence + the Machine, Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life With the Heart of a Buddha by Tara Brach, Ph.D., Work In Progress with Sophia Bush, ‘Saggezza’ Earrings by Rosantica, self-love courtesy of Hallie Bateman
wellness for me, right now
Jesus loves me, this I know. For he gave me Lex-a-pro.
Distancing myself from people or situations that drain me emotionally, mentally, and/or physically even if it’s done begrudgingly.
Saying NO as the one-word sentence that it is.
Getting a new tattoo on my inner right wrist of an Egon Schiele flower to serve as an affirmation that even wilted, fucked-up looking flowers whose leaves are falling off one by one are still beautiful flowers and will bloom again in the spring.
No longer apologizing for anything that is a byproduct of simply existing.
Having that second glass of wine and/or not having any wine at all.
Radical self-acceptance balanced with habitual self-contemplation.
Traveling to a place I’ve always wanted to visit with a girlfriend who appreciates a giant slab of cured meat and stinky cheese as much as I do.
Binging teen rom-coms on Netflix until it feels weird and slightly inappropriate.
Crying the ugly cries until I feel better.
Treating myself to new sneakers I can’t help but smile when wearing.
Laughing out loud as often and as loudly as possible regardless of the setting or who is listening.
Complimenting myself when I need to hear it.
Writing for clarity, writing for peace, writing because it makes me feel better.
No longer subscribing to my own bullshit and taking a daily dose of humble pie.
Keeping my life and daily frustrations in perspective.
Moving my body when it craves it, napping when it doesn’t.
Lizzo and Florence + The Machine on repeat.
two years full of knox
Two years ago, at this exact moment, I was large and heavy-footed, ornery and tired, pacing around the first floor of our old home on a tree-lined street in the middle of Charlotte wearing an adult diaper.
A few minutes prior to when I took this photo, my water had broken due likely to the three mile uphill walk I took earlier that morning. I had reached that part of pregnancy where everything sucked, nothing about pregnancy felt magical, and I had accepted— albeit irrationally— that I’d be pregnant forever.
Funny how that works.
One day, this picture will mortify you. But for now, I will share it with pride because it was the beginning of the end of the nine months I housed you in my body and counted down the days until I met the boy who I knew would change me forever. What I didn’t know at the time was just how wild of a ride I was in for, which, in hindsight, is likely a good thing. If I’d known, I probably would’ve reversed my decision and agreed to stay pregnant forever. Who really needs to see their feet or sleep on their stomach, any way?!
The truth is, my sweet, sweet Knoxy Boy, is that something shifted in me when I held you for the first time. I felt an obligation to you that was very different than the obligation I felt towards your sisters. Everyone told me that I’d feel differently about you— equally, but different, they said— but I was not prepared for the inherent ferociousness that came over me.
Instantaneously, I became obsessively devoted to not only protect you in the physical sense, but to protect your innate softness in a world that will try its’ damnedest to harden you with all the ideas of what masculinity and manhood and boyhood should look like. I want you to be the one who decides what masculinity means to you, of course. But, mostly, my hope for you will live a life you design absent of fear if that landscape doesn’t line up with what others have deemed appropriate.
I want you to love big, to remain soft, and to never apologize for expressing your emotions. I want you to reject institutionalized gender norms in lieu of whatever makes you happy. I want you to be the first person to comfort others in need and not be afraid to ask for comfort or help when you need it. I want you to be the one who stands up for the person who cannot advocate for themselves. I want you to give absolutely zero fucks about being the “cool guy” and instead give all your energy to being a multi-faceted, evolved, dichotomous, empathetic human who just so happens to have a penis.
I want you to prove people wrong when they make assumptions about you or who they think you should be and I want you to do so quietly and with kindness. I want you to take care of your sisters the way they take care of you because nothing is ever more important than your family. I want you to look for the good in others and to become known for showing others what it means to be good. I want you to soar while never forgetting where you came from and, most importantly, who you came from.
Which is ME, obviously, because this isn’t about you at all. Not, really, anyway. This is about just how unfathomably and overwhelmingly big my love for you is and just how relentlessly loyal I am to you and who you are on your way to becoming. No matter who that person is, your number one fan will always be me followed, of course, by a close second, third, and fourth in your dad and sisters.
Nobody will ever love you like I love you though it’s likely a safe bet to say that many people will try because you’re you and to know you is to love you. You are everything to us and we love you to the moon and back.
Happy second birthday, Bubby.
xoxo,
mama
Errrr.... happy new year?
Well, I just looked at the calendar app on my phone and realized that it’s May 1st. I suppose this is as good a time as any to finally acknowledge that it’s a new year. I wish I could say that my aloofness was due to that cliché of time flying because I’m having fun but, mostly, I’m just tired. My days all run together and I can rarely remember my kids names, let alone the date and things we’re supposed to be doing on said date.
But, here I am. Lucky enough to find myself facing another year, another month, another 365 opportunities to maximize my personal potential. Let me say that nothing specific made 2018 so spectacular that I was hesitant to see it go; rather, these last four months flew by at such a warped speed that only now am I coming up for air and wrapping my mind around what I want 2019 to look like, what intentions I’m setting moving forward through the year (even though I’m nearly half-way through it but I digress…), and what I wand and/or need to do differently from last year.
So, in no particular order, here’s looking at 2019:
-Be ruthlessly intentional with where I extent my energy. If the effort of exerting that energy is not adding to my life or is causing me stress, the question I need to ask myself is why I am even doing it in the first place?
-Assume full responsibility for my life and my happiness one hundred percent of the time. If I assume full responsibility for the shape my life takes, then I in turn inherit the ability to alter it as I see fit. Also, blaming other people instead of holding myself accountable is just lazy and a cheap shot to take.
- Continue to embrace change and the (often uncomfortable) steps necessary to achieve that emotional, mental, and physical growth.
-Don’t create or engage unnecessary negativity. It’s not only a waste of my time but it’s creates a path of destruction when engaged carelessly and constantly.
-I will not— I REPEAT— I will not compare myself and my journey to the path anyone else is on. I am only in competition with myself and that’s that.
-Embrace life—motherhood, particularly— as a series of very short, temporary seasons with weather patterns that are often beyond my control. Just remember during especially volatile storms that this too shall pass.
-Fiercely enforce and defend the personal boundaries that keep my mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing in balance.
-Practice the pause before reacting. Exploding with big emotions only make a likely already-sensitive situation worse.
-There is little difference between self-deprecation and the outward manifestation of self-doubt. I will own my strengths and talents with grace and humility instead of walking that tight rope and unintentionally making others more comfortable by dumbing myself down.
-I will remain unapologetic in the pursuit of what makes me feel whole, that which allows me to be the most authentic version of myself, and the me I like most.
-How I will begin and end each day: five minutes of stretching, a few minutes of silence to quiet the mind, mentally listing off all that I’m grateful for, and drinking a large glass of water.
-Remain open and vulnerable, admonish shame, and tell those who judge to fuck off. Those who love me, love ME.
the unicorn turns four
From the moment I met her outside of my womb, I knew that she would be the one who softened me. From day one, she had a way of loving so big, of loving so unapologetically, and with such unbridled joy— you’d have to be a real psychopath to not be affected by standing in the midst of that kind of light. Because that’s exactly what Edie is: light and goodness and joy and a daily reminder that life is what you make it.
As we were driving home from school the other day, it began to downpour which inconveniently ruined our plans to go to the park, as we often do most weekdays. She was quiet for a moment, her forehead furrowed. I had hoped she hadn’t noticed but, as she let out a deep sigh, I knew that she had.
“Well, it stinks that’s it’s raining, babe. Maybe we can do the park tomorrow?”
“That’s okay, mama. It’s still such a beautiful day. It’s just raining now and you know what? You can’t have sunshine without some rain sometimes.”
Happy fourth birthday, my delightful little ray of sunshine. You are the glue that holds this family together and we couldn’t possibly adore you any more if we tried.
To the moon and back, Coop.
-mama