Whole Truth, Half-Told

Rarely have I written to you in a story half-told. Perhaps never. I regale a tale completed, once it’s risen and formed. Yet today, after weeks of avoiding it I find myself here, half-told, asking for your help to write the ending.

And…this is why I didn’t want to write this post, because as I type, 3 short sentences in, my stomach is in knots, and tears threaten to flee their watery world beneath the surface. Why?

The Fluff.

Here’s where the story begins:

It was mid-September, a day like any other except I was EXTRA happy. The Chief and I (ok, mostly me) were blasting Lizzo, drinking coffee, and getting ready for our day. Off he went into his and off I danced into mine, breaking out my best moves as I got Ollie ready to head to Storytime at the Library. We were in our new home in our new city of Anchorage and things were feeling extra joyful. Leto and Ollie hung harmoniously (finally) as Leto’s frustrations with Ollie as he’d become hyper-mobile and all too interested in “petting”, had seemed to fade in the prior weeks. I kept a close eye but had felt myself calm around their interactions.

As I finished the dishes I heard a small growl (a common occurrence in our house) and went to grab Ollie to give Leto his peace.

I was too slow.

Leto bit Ollie.

To answer the most important question first: Ollie is OK. He is not traumatized by Leto or by dogs and he healed up well.

To answer the hardest question next: yes, we are looking to rehome Leto.

Does my stomach turn at typing that?
You bet.
Do I know it’s the right thing for everyone, even though it feels absolutely terrible?
Yes.

It’s been a long time since I’ve avoided the click of my keyboard and the truth that noise brings. This is the truth:

we need your help.

Help in finding Leto his new home. We’ve had Leto leads but nothing has been quite right so, I’m coming to you for help. I know what I’ve told you doesn’t exactly emote a Gosh I Want That Dog kind of squishy feeling but I would never give him to someone without being completely honest and outside of this absolutely crap incident, he’s been an incredible joy in our life. There’s also a lot more to Leto than this story.

Like:

The pros:
– Leto is a freaking gem. Everyone who meets him falls in love with him. The Chief walks him at the park every morning and the boys’ and the girls’ Cross Country teams both STOP running every morning to take a “Let’s pet Leto!!!” break. They call out to him from a hundred yards away. It’s the highlight of everyone’s day.
– He’s quiet. Every once in a while he will let out a random howl but other than true protection barks (“Mom! There is a bear!”) he is quiet and calm.
– He’s very tidy. He poops in the same locale every day or off-trail if on a walk. Malamutes are tiiiiidy.
– He travels well. He will just put his head down and wait until the trip is over (and we’ve driven a lot with him. Like…driven to California and back a lot). He’s chill. Won’t try to jump in the front seat or bug you.
– He’s hilarious. Seriously, this dog has a personality.
– He’s great with everyone (including all children, except for Ollie).
– He LOVES going to the vet. His last vet moved to Hawaii and still sends him Christmas cards every year.
– He’s calm. A barking dog will run up to him at the park and he will simply keep on walking.
– He skijors (I can’t vouch for how good he currently is at it as I haven’t done it in 2 years due to being pregnant but back then it was a great steady pace).
– He’s great off leash (but doesn’t understand cars so needs to be put back on when cars are nearby). Whenever we come to a fork in the road, he waits, or circles back to me.
– He’s pretty mellow with grooming. His undercoat is thick so we normally take him to a groomer when we can and then brush him (which he loves) and clip his nails (which he’s fine with) in between.
– He’s a road dog. He will go anywhere with you, any time. He wants to be with his pack. BUT he’s also ok at home and has never once gotten into the trash, ripped things up, peed inside, etc. Like I said, the boy is tidy.
– He’s smart and happy to learn new tricks. He’s so quiet that we taught him to bark on demand just to hear him do it (which he does in a very dainty “woof”).
– He’s very gentle, delicately taking snacks out of your hand.
– He’s handsome: Every time you go outside with him, someone will want to take his picture. My friend keeps telling me to just make him a dog model so we can all quit our jobs already. Our loss is your gain, I guess (his Mama was a show dog after all).

The Cons:
– He’s handsome: Every time you go outside with him, someone will want to take his picture (this is only a Con if it’s a con to you, hence it being in the Pros section).
– He’s a Malamute so…he can be stubborn BUT treats melt all stubbornness. I just found out he could jump into the Subaru by throwing a tiny sliver of Havarti back there. Seriously, treats do the trick.
– He sheds. Refer to above: he’s a Malamute. Comes with the territory. But I’ve heard that Roombas cure-all.
– He’s good on leash but does pull if he gets scared (I just learned he’s scared of trains. Whowuddathunkit?!).
– As I mentioned above, he doesn’t understand cars (since all the cars where we live stop for him). If there are cars around, he MUST be on a leash.
– He doesn’t like to be humped and has gotten aggressive with dogs who won’t stop humping him. No bites just lots of growling and teeth gnashing on both sides. It’s a dominant thing and he is a dominant dog. I can see it happening before it gets to that and normally get ahead of it by just leaving the situation. It hasn’t happened in a year or more.
– If you have a couch, he will want to get on it. This isn’t a con for us, but maybe it is for you.
– He loves children but shouldn’t be in a home with little ones, obviously.

Stats:
Age: 4 years old (born on Valentine’s Day 2019)
Breed: Malamute
Gender: Male (neutered)
Weight: 85 pounds
Vaccines: Up to date
Microchipped: Yep
Does well with other dogs? Yes but prefers to live alone
Does well with cats? He’s curious about cats. He’s been swiped by a few and hasn’t tried to hurt them but I can’t vouch that he wouldn’t attempt it so better in a house without cats or where they can have separation.

Comes with bed, kennel for travel, lots of love, and a guarantee that if for some reason it doesn’t work out, we will take him back.

So…who’s his love match?
Someone who wants to love on him. Dote on him. Let him be the baby again. People with older kiddos or those not planning to have kiddos are perfect. Someone without other pets is ideal. Someone who likes the outdoors but also likes a good couch snuggle. Someone who doesn’t live in our town (Anchorage is fine but we think that MXY would be too hard for everyone).

Thank you for reading this and for sharing it with anyone you think might be interested. Please reach out if you have a lead.

With a lot of love (and a ton of tears),

from Alaska

P.S. Thanks for allowing me to Scorpio this past while and bury myself in this until I was ready to share. Thank you for following along in our adventures, both happy and hard.

Snapshot

Five or so years ago now I said something I’ve always looked back on:

“I mop my floor every day.”

Wow, profound, right?

Maybe not exactly but…the reason it’s resonated in my head for years is that it’s not true. Well, not now it isn’t. At the time I said it (thankfully, lest I be a liar), it certainly was. Back then, I had one tiny little haven of flooring in my house, a sweet, easily cleanable relief from the shredding OSB and crumbling concrete board that dressed the rest of the house. That little part of flooring was the area I knew I could keep clean, the one area of control I could find amongst dog hair, dirty paws, and boots filled with project remnants (hello, sawdust!) and so when a friend came over one day and admired my sparkling clean floor I noted with pride that I mopped it.

Every

single

day.

*And twice a day in moments like this…No idea what that spill was but it was noteworthy enough to forever memorialize, apparently.*

Every single day? Yep. Which, I’d bet was true for about another month or so. After that, I think we started to stop dirt before it entered the house (genius! How had no one ever thought of this?! Oh wait..) via no-shoe policies and a quick paw scrub down and also, ignore dirt by following the saying of my favorite pin: “Let that shit go”. Nowadays, my floor is cleaned about ten times a day as Leto and I tag team chasing down bits and pieces of catapulted carrots and missile-like melon bits but it’s properly mopped maybe once a week.

Maaaaayyyyybe.

Let

That

Shit

Go.

Right?

Yet I often think back to where I was then, mopping daily, a snapshot in time and wonder if that friend, who I haven’t discussed the pros and cons of a daily mop with since, still sees me in that Suzy Homemaker-esque snapshot. Did she even remember it? And if she did, did she feel that she too should be mopping her floors daily? Did I unknowingly plant a bullsh*t seed in her brain?

The other night, I left another snapshot that again had me thinking about what we plant, what we put out into the world, and how I often see others as a steady state since our last interaction despite knowing that our natural state is one of constant flux. In a gathering of women, I shared an at times teary, at times comical commentary on where I was at. There’s a lot going on for us right now: moving, school, new job, new neighborhood, new schedules…and if there’s one thing I know about myself it’s that I am amazing at change (cue the laughter sign for the audience, please).

It’s not that the changes are bad. I’m truly excited, it’s amazing, and still, it’s a lot. The Chief and I felt that a lot-ness this weekend and tensions built and then boiled over. And so, there it lay, our snapshot for the group to see. ‘Twas neither our prettiest nor our worst, nor our forever snapshot but if I had to give it a representation, it probably looked a little something like this:

I know it wasn’t our forever snapshot but…will it be in the minds of those I presented it to until I see each person again? And will I too hold them to each of the snapshots they gave to me that night?

Slowly, as the days passed, our snapshots brightened. The stress lifted. Suddenly, there we were a few days later, motivated and team-like enough to start packing up after dinner and chores (this is not an easy thing to motivate to do for us) for our move with smiles on our faces. And then finally settling in a few hours later as the summer sun began to fade, reading and cuddling ourselves to sleep.

Another snapshot.

Snapshots in time. Life is chock full of them. Some last just a moment, and some last a lot longer. If anyone has taught me to savor my way through a good snap and know we’ll pass through a rough one, it’s Ollie. Everything changes from one day to the next, a shifting tide tied to no moon. Example? At six months old, Ollie decided that he wasn’t going to take diaper changes lying down.

Literally.

For the last 8 months, I have had to wrangle him into diapers and clothing for every diaper change. People are constantly remarking “Oh! I’ve never seen someone change a babe’s diaper while they are standing up!”. At a minimum, I’m chasing this little one around 6 (often 8) times a day to do a standing, knee, or in-flight diaper change (plus cleaning up more accidents than I ever imagined when I haven’t been able to keep up). It became our new normal, our perma-snapshot. In my mind, there he was: the kiddo who wouldn’t lie down for diaper changes. And then…yesterday, I thought I’d see if I could set that snapshot in a frame, hang it up as a memory, try something new, and…

Just like that, the snapshot changed. He let me lay him down to change his diaper. I’ve even reproduced the miracle multiple times now. He stares up at me as I stare back in disbelief, my hands moving through the motions with gratitude for the ease of a lie-down diaper change.

*It’s a tough life for a pirate.* *Thanks, L&J for the endless tissue box entertainment*!

Everything changes (even your face, but that’s another story).

Being a mom to a wild one has undoubtedly taught me that. One week he wakes every day at 4 am for the day and a month later, he sleeps till a blessed 5:15 (cue the “Hallelujah!”). Ups and downs and in-betweens come so fast there’s barely a signal before we are changing lanes yet again and still, sometimes I forget in the hard that the easy/ier is coming. Sometimes, I forget another snapshot is on the way.

The other night, made me again think back to my mopping declaration mishap, to the reality that who we say we are and the circumstances we find ourselves in may change as fast as the words come out of our mouths. I realized that I forget to apply that same knowing to those around me. I know I change but I forget others do too, especially when the snapshot is good. A mom friend will send me a picture of her family and an update that’s happiness embodied one day and I assume it’s allllllllllll sunshine and allllllllllll roses allllllllllll the time.

*I can hardly handle how gorgeous these Glories are.*

Then, a month later, the update will be harder, with less sun, a little more rain.

Oh, right. Duh.

Seeing all the women gathered together this past weekend, I realized I’d snapped them all the last time I’d seen them and held that past freeze frame as their current truth. Their shared stories showed me that good or bad or in between, they too were fluid beings, shifted and shaped since our last interactions.

It’s obvious, right? Yet I think in our age of shiny selfies and made-for-TV moments, it’s really easy to forget. We are ever-changing, we are movement and stagnation and everything in between. We are exactly as we are at this moment, and nothing more.

Cheers to the snapshots, the beautiful and the broken hearted, the shiny and the sullen. May we meet one another as we are. Right now.

With love,

From Alaska (and floors in need of a good mopping)

**Update: What’s “hilarious” I kept telling myself over and over again as I scrubbed away last night (which now was one week ago) was just that: I was scrubbing my floors. At 10 pm. You must be thinking: “Why, Julia, would you even be up at 10 pm when your child awakes a mere 6-7 hours later?! And scrubbing your floors, no less?!” Because, dear friend, I didn’t mop my floors after finishing this post, despite their being in dire need of such a show of affection, and so, my floors insisted, nay, commanded that I do so.

As I was emptying the last bit of a massive container of dish soap into the dish soap dispenser, both fell onto the floor and oozed out of their containers faster than you can say:

“Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaack! That’s all we had left for the next two weeks until we move!”.

Our kitchen became a skating rink. As I slip/slid my way to clean floors 40 minutes later (it turns out that soap, when applied like a frosting rather than a whisper on your floors, is incredibly hard to get off in one fell swoop), suds finally tucked in for the eve, I laughed over and over again. “I just wrote a post ALL about mopping my floors. Today!” I laughed to The Chief.

Instead of a Slip-A-Thon/Mop-A-Thon (where my Walk-A-Thon/Jog-A-Thon peeps at?!) I had planned to tidy up the blog that night and send it on its way to you but alas, other plans had already been destined for the night. And so, ~~today~~, (nope, two days later, and then three days later than hoped and then, after a 3:45 am curtain call from Ollie and a publishing snafu where this post didn’t save, a whole week later) it’s making its way to you.

I hope you’re in a happy snap and if not, just know one’s coming soon.

One

One.

Our baby is one.

Well, actually, our baby is 1 and 1/6 years old now because one came and went and off we were running towards what feels like two, three, or four some days. “Littlest” as one of his uncles calls him, isn’t the littlest bean anymore. He’s a whole year old (and then some).

I spent the week prior to his birthday remembering the week, days, and hours prior to his birth. What a whirlwind it has been. From moving just two days before he was born to nearly delivering in the bathroom of the new house to welcoming him in the birthing suite’s tub. The first two weeks felt like heaven and even after the hormonal plunge at two weeks (how rude!) I think I still somehow was getting more oxytocin than your average bear because I was (and still am) so high on life and while my tasks were new to me, they were simple: care for your babe, care for yourself, care for your family.

In doing just that in the last year, we’ve adventured from the wilds of Alaska to the warmth of Hawaii and back. We’ve trekked up mountains and waded in waved waters.

We’ve flown on airplanes big and small (update on the small to come). Ollie has donned swimsuits to snowsuits (and birthday suits, of course). He’s gone from a little “squish” as a friend lovingly calls the infant stage to “potted plant phase” (another friend’s title), to crawling and walking and now running (oh lawwwwd, it’s on!). I’ve chased after him and been chased by him and chased that initial high that may have lowered from its seemingly illegal initial levels but has never worn off.

What a year it has been.

Happiest of belated birthdays to you, sweet Ollie who eats every lick of frosting before touching the cake and every raisin out of his oatmeal first too. I love you, sweet, sweet tooth.

Workin’ Moms: Part II

Don’t tell anyone, but I started a new job and my direct reports at work are being real stinkers this week. You wouldn’t believe it. One disobeyed a direct order and the other threw their lunch at me. One never dresses appropriately for the workplace (pajamas? Rude) and the other comes to work in the nude (thank goodness for Zoom, eh?). They’re constantly pushing my boundaries and my buttons and…

I’ve never been happier.

You see, I’m a workin’ Mom alright, but a few things have changed since we last talked:

I traded my 9-5 (and by that, I mean 6 am or 7 am to the end of business) for a job that’s even more work and 24/7.
I moved into something I have zero training in (but thankfully, a natural instinct towards).
My salary absolutely tanked.

So what’s the new gig and why am I so excited to have lost all of my earning power while simultaneously be working more?!

I’m working the original WFH job: being a full-time parent.

My direct reports? Leto and Ollie (The Pantless Duo).
My meeting schedule? We start at 5 am most days and go until the sun sets (which in Alaska means…never).

So, what gives, eh?
I had an amazing job.
I had reached the salary goal I’d made for myself when I first started remote work.
And…
I was miserable.

*Neither of us were impressed with our new setup.*

In November, I went back to work, and oh what a journey it was. I had an incredibly warm welcome from co-workers old and new (the company had more than doubled since I’d left in May). My position and schedule had changed a bit as the company itself had morphed so the return was a bit of a rough landing (especially since I’d jumped in at full speed. Hello, 40+ hours/week!). Yet after a few months, my team found our stride. We did, but me? Stella never quite got her groove back. In the split between old and new selves that is motherhood, my heart was with the new. I never saw it coming. I always “knew” I’d want to go back to work shortly after having a babe. Turns out, it’s hard to know what you’d do until faced with the situation.

While I love working and the sense of pride I get from a job well done, working from home with my infant just a few feet away was torture. I’d be in meetings, trying my best to conjure up from my sleep deprived vocabulary bank the verbal athletics that is acronym-filled corporate speak when I’d hear a wail break through my noise-canceling headphones. Despite knowing in my head that he was in the care of his father’s highly capable hands, my body felt otherwise. Nausea would set in, my heart would start beating rapidly and I’d lose my breath. Panic. My body would rebel against my attempts to stay present in whatever meeting I was in, whatever it was that was keeping me from my babe. The effects would last for hours.

Still, I had a job to do. I had to find a way around it. I’d escape to coffee shops and eventually found a co-working space.

I’d navigate my meeting schedule to find a pocket of time and load up my computer and cords, pack my lunch + snacks (+ more snacks), my pump and bottles, and myself into our shared vehicle, and off I’d go. Then I’d get there, work an hour or so until it would be time to pump. I’d find some corner or bathroom to keep my supply up and my breasts from bursting, store the milk, wash and dry the bottles, and then it would be back to meetings until I needed to do it all over again.

It was tiring and inconvenient and felt like a lot of runaround for little gain but the little gain it gave, we needed. It was my turn to be the breadwinner after a 5-month stint at home with Ollie. I tried to suck it up.

Come January. it was time to start looking for a nanny for the summer in Alaska. I had a few good leads that all sizzled out right around the time that I mentioned “off-grid living” and “outhouse”. Others could commit to helping but not a full-time predictable schedule. My meetings were already mapped out, my days already booked. I had a team that counted on me to at least be as present as a new parent can be. I needed someone 40-50 consistent hours per week.

It wasn’t looking good.

By late February, things were getting serious. In Alaska, we have to start planning for the summer by late winter and here the season was, reaching her end and a nanny felt completely out of reach. The Chief would be back at work in April and we couldn’t both work without help. Originally, I had planned to work from home with Ollie but once he was with us in the flesh, the idea became laughable (I know some people do it but I honestly don’t know how). He was far past the Potted Plant phase, as my girlfriend dubbed it where I could place him somewhere and get a few things done. He was more at the Hell on Wheels phase (aka if you’re not running, you’re not going to keep up). It was on and boy was I feeling off. I kept trying to find a way to make it work but it felt like I was swimming against the current. Luckily, I had a perfect attitude the whole time and was an absolute joy to be around.

*Or maybe it was more like this sunset: 50% sunny, 50% grey*

One morning, tears stuck in my throat, I called my Mom at 5am and at with first syllables of her “Hi honey, what’s wrong” (Mamas know) the tears came flooding out. “I can’t do this anymore”. “I know”, she replied. And then we began to brainstorm. We came up with endless scenarios some of which were damn creative but in the end, I knew the answer: I had to quit.

The Chief agreed wholeheartedly. While he loved being a stay-at-home Dad, he was ready to go back to work. I, on the other hand, longed to be back with my babe. It just made sense. No more pumping, no more panic-packed meetings. No more feeling like I couldn’t fully be at work or with Ollie because they were both constantly competing for my attention. No more choosing between the two. And no more wandering down childcare dead-ends only to panic further. Heck, even if we had found someone, no more packing and unpacking Ollie and his necessities for the day, coordinating schedules and drop-offs and pick-ups. No finding random corners to pump in to keep up supply. Not yet, at least. For now, I get to be home and boy do I know how lucky that is. Will it mean cutting back? Oh yes, ma’am! Trimming the fat was essential immediately and meant everything from canceling Netflix to selling half of our property.

I know they say not to make your passion your work but so far, it’s working out just fine. They also say having kids changes you and boy were they right about that. Never did I ever think I’d feel fulfilled to change diapers all day but baby, sign me up! It’s not forever, it’s for now and for now, I am over the moon to get to watch this little person blossom.

*First flower spotting of the year! Anenome beauty.*

While it was a hard decision to make (and one I felt I constantly had to apologize for or validate as it felt incredibly irresponsible), and an even harder one to deliver (I cried. I always do) to a company who’d been so great to me, I knew I couldn’t be what they needed or what I needed. So I bid adieu to my salary goal, my 401k, stock options (my first ever), healthcare, and stability and as soon as I did, things started falling into place and not just metaphorically. My wrist which had been cocked at a 45-degree angle for 8 months painfully popped back into place in the middle of the night and for the first time in as long, I was pain-free. I could hold my child without wincing, type without my wrists being on fire. I felt my entire being start to relax. On both small and large scales, doors started opening to us. Suddenly, we felt with the current, no longer fighting its force.

On my last day, I was lucky to have not one but two going away parties at work, plus an amazing e-card filled with memories of our time together and some beautiful conversations with colleagues and then, come 5pm, my computer no longer worked. Whether I was finished or not (I was), I was done.

And?

I haven’t looked back since.

So, what does looking forward look like?

Currently, life looks a lot like this:

Come the fall, I’ll be looking for new opportunities but until then, we have tightened our belts and buckled our seatbelts for a beautiful summer together.

Now excuse me while I go talk to my new co-workers about appropriate workplace behavior.

With love and whole heckuvalotta gratitude,

from Alaska

P.S. To all those who care for, love, or caretake someone or something else, a very happy belated Mother’s Day to you!

P.P.S. How does your family manage it all? What’s your work/childcare/self-care combo that’s working (or not working for you)? Let us know in the comments below!

Landing

Phew! It’s been a ride. A wild one, a joyous one, a stressful one, a “Where the heck are any of our things?!” one. The past month has been marvel and mayhem all rolled into one. Yet finally, three moves and a serious weather shift later, we’ve arrived home to our little hamlet in Alaska. If we were a business, we would have one of those signs out that reads “Pardon our dust (as we reconstruct our lives a bit)”.

All that to say, I’m coming back. It’s been a hiatus but the mayhem end is in sight (at least for getting settled). Boxes are being put away, things are getting tidied, winter systems are up and running (so far). And I have more big changes to report…

Next time.

See you then.

With love,

From Alaska

The Final Countdown

The time has come to tidy up loose ends and head back to the wintry north.

In some ways, it feels like we arrived yesterday and in some ways it feels as if we’ve been gone for years. So much has happened.

When we arrived, little Ollie was, as a friend calls it, in “Potted Plant Phase”. Sure, he was rolling back and forth but for the most part he’d stay where I left him, arms and legs waving wildly. Now, it’s a full on race to keep up with my crawling, standing, stair climbing babe. He’s chock-full of change. From erupting teeth to bubbling over with babbling, he’s changing right before our eyes.

The other day, I was listing all the boats he’s been on:

A cruise to the Columbia Glacier in Valdez

A boat trip across the lake at home

A glass bottom boat in Hawaii…

This kid has run the gamut, from ice cold ocean to salmon filled lakes to warm seas. In such a small time, we’ve been so many places, met so many faces, learned so much. Change with a babe is constant but adding external change makes the ride even wilder. I did a little more tallying:

Since right before Ollie was born we’ve moved from:

Home to Anchorage

Anchorage to Anchorage (three days before the little dude arrived)

Anchorage to home

Home to Hawaii

Hawaii to Hawaii (we moved out of our family’s house this last week while they had friends visiting and we get to stay with Grandma and Grandpa who are also visiting)

Next up: Hawaii to Hawaii (back to our family’s house for the last week here) and then?

Hawaii to Anchorage

Anchorage to McCarthy (quick trip for The Chief to fix up the cabin)

Anchorage to Fairbanks (work trip for The Chief)

Anchorage to Anchorage (moving from housesitting to another friend’s home)

Anchorage to McCarthy for the summer

And finally…

Anchorage for school in the fall and beyond!

Phew! I’m a little tired just thinking about it and simultaneously ready to get this show on the road. Change, here we come. Time to go.

I never in my life thought I’d be ready to leave Hawaii but I am. Don’t get me wrong, I know I’ll miss the heck out of the ease and the breeze as I wrestle my babe into winter clothes for even the smallest endeavor outdoors but Alaska for me right now signals a slow down (at least in the fall) and I am here for it. Because, while I wouldn’t change a thing, I definitely wouldn’t recommend moving umpteen times with a tot. It’s…well, it’s a lot.

And, it’s exactly what we needed to do to figure out exactly where we need to be.

Alaska.

Who’dathunk it?

When we arrived four months ago, I didn’t even want to talk about Alaska. I needed a break. Now, four months later, we are coming full circle. Because while I’m sad to leave, I’m more excited to greet community, continuity and (eventually) calm.

Am I worried about the weather?

Yep.

Ready for the cold?

Maybe.

Excited for what comes next?

Definitely.

Alaska.

With love,

From Hawaii

*Where epic sunsets greet you on your way out of the grocery store*

Home Is Where the Heart Is

Years ago now, I wrote a post called Home is Where the Hard Is. In it, I wrote about the hard that is our home, about the struggle it takes to do even the simplest home project, and about how that hard is what made it all the more worthwhile.

I was new to our house and we were in the honeymoon mood of making it our home.

*My favorite addition: ceiling storage jars*

The hard thrilled me, it revived me. It held up a mirror to life as I’d known it and asked if what I knew was what I wanted or, if instead, I wanted something different.

I was deeply in love, not just with The Chief but with all that he and this new life embodied. Yet as I was falling in love with my new home, a new friend who has now become a dear friend confessed to me that she was falling out. Reading my post, however, set to the tone of a starry-eyed, love-drunk newbie, a bit of the romance returned for her. She looked a little more fondly at the hard, she’d just needed a break At the time I remember being shocked that anyone could possibly fall out of love with the beauty of all that is our tiny hamlet in Alaska. She pulls you in, how could you ever let go?

The romance of the hard held me close for years. The thrill of an unexpected storm, the creative meals due to dwindling supplies, the discomfort of far beyond freezing temps truly testing my abilities to survive. All of it, every day of it felt like an adventure until…

We spent two years in the hard and a fissure formed. Timing isn’t everything but it can sure make a difference and after spending the entire year before COVID at home in order to finally settle after years of constant packing and unpacking, the non-stop hard started to chip away at the joy. No worries, we’d take a trip and all would be rosy again. Except, we couldn’t. Two years after our intended year-long staycation we went on our first vacation since our honeymoon and for the first time ever we both weren’t ready to come home. I’m fact, had Leto been with us, we might not have.

Where were we?

Hawaii.

For the first time ever, The Chief said to me “I don’t want to leave. I could even see living here.”

And so, we have.

The little crack those two years formed has grown since it’s inception but when Ollie came, the crack gave way to a rushing tide of wonderings.

Would the hard work with him?

More bluntly: Would the hard with him work for me? Was I up for the challenge?

There are countless women who have raised their babes in the wild and I was certain for years I’d be among them. It felt like a badge of honor and I hoped it’d be bestowed upon me but that’s not how badges work. Truth be told, I know my ego played a part in hoping I could live this life and ride the homestead-ish mountain mama wave all the way in.

The truth?

Maybe I could, maybe we will, but right now, I’m just not up for it. This summer, with a new babe in the woods where systems constantly break down and medical care 8 hours away, where there’s one road in and one road out and sometimes no road at all, I finally admitted to myself that I am not up for this year-round anymore. OK, I had done it. I had said the scary thing to myself but the scariest part of that admission was what would happen when I uttered it aloud.

Why?

The Chief.

Since our start we’ve always spent some time apart but it’s gotten smaller in quantity every year. We love being together. He also loves being in Alaska. The two years had cracked him but not in the same chasm-creating way it had me. I wanted to be near healthcare and grocery stores, and activities and opportunities for Ollie and, truth be told, for myself. Yet I wanted to be with my husband. I wanted our family together.

So, what’s a family in transition to do?

Move to Hawaii, of course.

Ever since that first trip, Hawaii had been our starting point for hard conversations. Did we want to live in Alaska year round? If we didn’t, where would we live? In a time where some of our dearest friends have been gone from Alaska, it’s been both harder and easier to think outside of the AK box. Our base has shifted. So, we returned to the place where that shift began, this time with our Leto and our Ollie, never to return.

Just kidding.

In the past few months, the hard conversations have continued. We spent Thanksgiving morning in tears when we came to the realization that things would indeed be changing but the questions of “How? To where? When?” were still unanswered. That doesn’t rest easy on the soul.

Since then, some big plans have evolved and come this fall, The Chief, Ollie, Leto, and I are doing the last thing we ever thought we would: we are moving away from the woods for more than just a season and heading to Anchorage because…

The Chief is going back to school!

I can’t express the happiness I feel in typing those last three words. I am so incredibly proud of him for choosing a path he desperately wanted but was unsure he’d ever see. I am completely aware that Anchorage is still Alaska, where the grey skies have been getting me down but, that’s the beauty of years of debate: compromise. We’ve agreed I’ll spend some time away every few months to up my vitamin D intake and we will both spend time out in the woods, just not all of our time. It’s the best (that we could come up with anyways) of all worlds. Time in the wilderness and time away and overall, most of our time together.

Almost eight years later, I completely understand where my friend was coming from. I love our home and I also needed a break from the hard. A real break. These past few months have been just what we needed: time in the sun, time with ease, and time to think.

Have I missed the 14-hour shopping days followed by the late-night 8-hour drives home? The unpacking of the truck in waist-deep snow at 3am? Honestly, in some ways, yes. The old me does st least. The mom me? In some ways still yes but in the ways that are a no, I’ve been grateful to be here, at home wherever my heart is.

In just a little over a month we fly home and for the first time ever, we won’t be rushing back out to the woods. Will we be there again? Certainly, but not immediately. Does this new norm feel weird? Indeed. Yet I know it’s right because when I remove what I feel I should do, coupled with what I said I’d do and look at what I feel I need to do for us, this is the answer.

With love,

From our hearts to yours (via Hawaii and a half n’ half sunset)

**Where is your heart taking you these days? Are you branching out from your idea of home or rooting down? Let us know in the comments below**

The recap

It’s been a while.

I’ve written to you in my head countless times, crafting paragraphs of prose I promptly forgot. So lest I lapse again, here’s where we left off:

Sick.

When Ollie was born and we were learning together how to nurse, our doula remarked how we always expect babies to just eat straight through until finish, forgetting that we too pause during meals. We put down our utensils. We take a beat. This simple reality that “babies, they’re just like us” hit home in that moment and I’ve thought back to it ever since.

They’re constantly learning, constantly changing. Yet still, when Ollie got his first fever, it felt terrifying, like I’d never see a fever before. Certainly the stakes are higher for babes, certainly it’s something to watch, but overall? Babies, they’re just like us. They get colds and coughs and just when you think the last sniffle has rung out, just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, something new comes up.

Just

Us.

And you can’t study your way out of the unknowns (trust me, I’ve tried).

Ollie sailed through his first fever with his warm cheeks pressed to my chest and straight out of that he went into another new: crawling.

Or sometimes just planking. The kid has better abs than I do though he really needs to work on his form!

Well, more like an army crawl that now has progressed into a true crawl that I’m sure will soon progress into even more mayhem. The new and the firsts just keep coming with our tenacious little man.

Another first followed: solids!

And yet another first arrived about a week later: his first time meeting his Grandma and Grandpa.

There’s something so special about seeing your parent do the things you loved with your kiddo. For us, reading was my favorite pastime and here it was, recreated in the next generation.

After the dust had settled from meeting the grandparents, up it went again in the form of a work opportunity for me and a new path for The Chief. Big decisions loomed and some still do. The dust up started to feel more like a whirlwind. Yet another first came as we got to talk about these new moves over drinks and appetizers on our first date night!

Still, the holidays stood before us as did time off to think and recoup and…sleep train.

How many years I’ve waited to write those words. They stopped me right in my tracks. I am so incredibly grateful.

We had plans, y’all.

Apparently we forgot that plans in parenthood (and in life) are laughable, at best.

Two teeth made their debut on Christmas Eve and while it’s been mellower than I anticipated, schedules have gone out the window along with our plans.

What’s a gal to do?

Roll with it.

As we welcome this new year, I welcome (albeit, sometimes begrudgingly) letting go. There are so very many uncertainties in our life right now that the only way forward is just that: forward. So cheers to the unplanned, the unstoppable, the unexpected. I hope it treats you well.

Here’s to a beautiful year.

With love,

From Hawaii

P.S. What is you resolution or your word for 2023? Leave a comment below!

Si(ck)x Months

This weekend Ollie turned six months old.

How did we celebrate?

With his first fever.

Luckily he’s quite the trooper abs somehow still a little lovebug, even when steaming up but it didn’t leave much room for writing. So…until next time!

With love,

From Hawaii

Workin’ Moms

If the pandemic did anything for us, I think it helped to make each one of us humans recognize that everyone else is human also. Radical, I know. We saw people in their homes working with everything from kids to cats to dirty laundry in the background and finally we decided it was OK.

Working from home the past 6 years, I’d always felt that things had to be perfect. I’d tidy up my humanity into a professional front and hope and pray that Leto wouldn’t decide he needed to serenade us or that my background didn’t look too much like a cabin (it is a cabin because I live in a cabin), or that no one would notice when I’d slip and say “I just have to run outside to use the restroom”, failing to cover up the fact that we use an outhouse.

In my current job, which started in April 2020, that veneer became less important. People there seemed more interested and less appalled by my lifestyle as living a simpler life and getting back to basics (hello sourdough super fans!) gained popularity. Plus, everyone loved dogs, thankfully, as that was the summer that Leto fell in love with neighbor dog and howled 24/7 for two months. It felt a little less essential to hide my life and little more appropriate to share it yet still I spent a lot of effort tidying it to look a certain way (even if that way isn’t really my way).

What have we decided that looks like again? And…who decided this?

As I came back on screen for my first day after Parental Leave, despite being on the grid with an indoor toilet and all, I worried that again I would look unprofessional. In 87 degree weather my options were thin strapped clothing or heat stroke so I chose the straps. I also didn’t have my desk setup yet so I sat outside, Bougainvillea blooming behind me. Was that ok?

Yet locale and skimpy clothes were the least of my worries, because now I had a whole human to hide. How was I going to pull that off? I mean, I couldn’t simultaneously don my professional hat and my Mom hat, right?!

The funny thing is, I don’t believe any of this inner speak I was shouting at myself but somehow it crept in anyways. Sure, my attention might be divided if I’m holding my babe during a meeting but it will also be divided if I hear him crying during a meeting and still if I can’t hear him crying at all because I’m working away from him. Why? Because, as one of my coworkers pointed out to me when I asked how she dealt with working as a mom: I’m a mom. Part of me will always be thinking of my babes. That’s ok. That’s human.

Whether he’s in my sights or out, he will always be on my mind but that doesn’t make me less of a professional or less valuable of an employee. Perhaps it’s even a strength. Wild idea, I know! It’s amazing what I’ve seen multi-tasking minds do. I can’t count the number of times my parent friends have held a meaningful conversation all while clothing/feeding/calming/teaching another smaller human. Nor can I express how absolutely fluent these people have become in all things baby in no time flat. The learning curve is steep but up that hill we all climb, slowly, steadily learning along the way. Parents aren’t dummies but I sure was being one. All it took was a three hour kickoff meeting to shake me sense-full.

Three hours is a chonka chonka sized meeting for anyone but for a new mom? Extra chonk. Even if Ollie wasn’t home with The Chief and I, I still would have had to stop to pump at some point. Yet, him being home meant I could stop and simply feed him and then go back and…that was A-OK. There were three quick pauses in the three hours and one was just for me to refill my water. The week followed suit, going surprisingly well most hours of most days.

Truth be told, no matter how well the days go it’s still hard for me to be at work. It’s hard to not be the one who knows Ollie best or has all the tricks up my sleeve but once my ego started to let that go, I could see the beauty in The Chief stepping into the spotlight as I stepped out.

Watching him rock our little love to sleep when my classic moves weren’t working slowly felt less like defeat and more like freedom. Freedom to see myself as as a workin’ mom. Freedom to start taking longer than a bathroom break moment to myself. Freedom to share in the hard. And while the baton handoff has been shaky at times (I’m not crying, you’re crying) I know deep down I needed it.

So, I’m letting myself take the gift of the pandemic and allow myself to be human, a human working mom. May you all have coworkers as wise as mine to help set you straight, if need be. Let’s all just be humans together, shall we?

With love,

From Hawaii