I’ve been trying to write every week, every other if I can’t muster weekly so two Mondays ago was my deadline…but…
On that particular Monday I got home at 2:30 am and into bed at 3:30 so…needless to say, it didn’t go as planned.
What was I doing until all hours of the night on a Sunday turned Monday morning? Turns out, this lady can still party.
And by party I mean pull a double red-eye and still be at least somewhat on point for the week ahead.
Onward, trusty steed!
You see, we sent ourselves to The Vortex and now I find myself forever changed.
The weekend was a celebration of love and partnership and honesty. It brought together a family and solidified their bond but it also did something I didn’t expect: it brought together my family.
Staring down the upcoming two red eye flights, I was optimistic in the sense that I told myself “This may suck, but you can do it”.
Positivity embodied.
By “this” I meant the risky flight times (hello, 10 pm takeoff!), not the weekend itself but I was a little wary for how the “this” might trickle into the rest of the weekend. How would a (likely) mostly sleepless night set us up for a whirlwind weekend? We would see.
Falling asleep mid-bite? Check.
The travel gods smiled upon us that weekend. Ollie slept most of the flight which was – thank all the gods – a direct flight. The Chief and I somehow both found humor in the seemingly endless search for our rental car at 4 am as well as the epic journey required to find a bathroom down the mile long hallways of the Phoenix airport rental area. We took turns being overwhelmed by the city things we still aren’t used to like parking and many-laned freeways and supported the other in their moments of panic. It was a give and take, unlike some of our past travels.
Those proved to be a bit more prickly
Ollie did amazingly (that truth deserves its own line).
Shhhh…it’s secret.
The weekend was spent surrounded by friends from all across the states, friends we don’t often get to see. There was delicious food, wonderful music, heartfelt healing moments, beauty and dramatic landscapes everywhere, and
so
much
laughter.
My boys
It was such a dang treat.
But the sweetest part was the afterglow.
After the dust of another red eye (where Ollie took off his seatbelt once the sign had said he was allowed to and simply plopped himself down on the floor and fell asleep) and arriving at 2:30, getting hyped up by being welcomed home by a northern lights show and finally falling back to sleep around 3:30 settled, the weekend sunk in.
Weddings always give me the feels but this one was something else. I left feeling so incredibly grateful. For my partner. For our son. For our friends. For life.
Our wild bunch ❤️
Being around our friends and their younger and older children reminded me of how tender the baby years were and how fast approaching the kid years are.
Cuddle puddle cuteness
Even a year ago, our Ollie looked so much more like a babe and now, he’s on his way to big kid status. It took me out of the haze that can be the constant boundary setting of being the parent of a 3-year old and into the fun of it.
Always forward.
Look at how he views the world! How he named the trampoline park the “jumpoline park”, how he always asks his girl friends if they would like to hold hands (and respects when they say “no”).
How tender he is when a friend gets hurt. How much he loves to dance.
“Mama! Dance with me like Rocky Rae’s Mama and Dada” **Photo Credit to the fabulous Victoria from White Desert Photography
This soul before me is magic, if I can simply be here to witness it and join it and remember…I’m magic too.
So are you.
I am so grateful for the reset the Vortex (named as such because two red eyes does feel like a vortex and Sedona, where we were, is known for her vortex effect) provided. For the perspective. For the examples I saw watching my beautiful friends as marvelous and inspiring parents. For the beauty I saw. For the moments shared. And for the reset in perspective.
I say it calls for a night on the town (and some really, really good eats – I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist the rhyme).
This weekend, The Chief and I celebrated six years of marriage.
Six?!
How is that even possible?
It feels as if both a millennia and a moment have gone past, as if time stood still and rushed further past where we stand now, all at once.
Six.
Six Septembers ago I started counting Saturdays, celebrating each week’s passing, blessing the babe of a marriage it was with weekly cheer. Six years later, I realize I don’t toast to it as often as that younger me might have hoped. I don’t stop to marvel at the beauty and the madness of tying together two lives.
So today, I stop and thank every force that brought us together.
Thank you to that long and dusty road that sent me to you.
Thank you for that feeling of home I knew instantly when I saw your face.
Thank you for the trust in that knowing, the following of that knowing, that ignorance of reason in the pursuit of my heart’s path.
Thank you for friends and strangers who told me what a wonderful man I’d found.
Thank you for neighbors who supported us every step of the way (and married us).
Thank you to the heartaches we shared that brought us in closer.
Thank you to the quiet of the woods for a gentle place to recuperate.
Thank you to all of you who joined us to make our celebration unbelievably beautiful on the outside and the inside.
Thank you, Alaska for finding my home in the most unexpected of places.
Thank you to our love for allowing us to bring this beautiful being onto earth.
Thank you to The Chief for knowing me and learning me as I change. I love you dearly.
This weekend, I was dead tired. So we headed to the Fair for some R&R.
Everything you need to know is in the name. Fun Slide.
Just kidding.
I was dead tired but I wasn’t delusional enough to expect R&R from the fair. I also didn’t expect a cheerleader.
While unloading our family and the miscellaneous odds and ends we might need throughout the day (ear pro for Ollie? Mama might borrow those for crowd control. Snacks? For all! Stroller? For me, I mean Ollie) I felt a tap on the shoulder.
“Excuse me” I heard a voice say while placing a piece of paper in my hand. As soon as I’d heard her, she was gone and I was left looking at what she’d left in my grasp.
“You’re doing an amazing job! Keep it up!” the index card read.
I teared up on the spot.
If there’s anything I needed in the moment, it was that. Honestly, in any moment.
Validation.
Feeling seen.
Feeling like someone is rooting for you.
I couldn’t point this young woman out in a crowd if I had to but I am grateful to her and for her nonetheless. The next morning, when I felt altogether less than cheer-worthy, I looked at the card (my new bookmark) to remind myself that I am doing a great job, the best job I can do. And all I can do is to keep it up.
The cheerleaders help us move forward.
One day at a time…
Cheers to all of the cheerleaders, known and unknown. To the friends who tell you how fabulous you are when you feel funky. To the random compliment you get from a stranger. For the love notes we leave.
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:
Mayhem!
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.
Shifting river, bye-bye beach.
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)
Smoothie bowls. The best idea
**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!”.
Shoulda just bailedwhen I saw it.
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.
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).
Post-nap curls
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.
Same place as above…One year later.
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.
Even after a poke in the eyeGrandma Donna’s glasses. Coolest guy.
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.
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?
Stop showing off, you beauty you.
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.
Gearing up to go outside!
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.
Love rock
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.
Cutie clones
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!
Time to get curious again
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.
Landing
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**
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
Like
Us.
And you can’t study your way out of the unknowns (trust me, I’ve tried).
Studying up!
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.
Ollie is the master of the stare down.
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.
Love me some Drum City
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!
A lil Brut Rosé with my babe.
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.
Duh, Mom. What were you thinking?!
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.
The tiny two
What’s a gal to do?
Roll with it.
Just chill.
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.
NYE 2022
With love,
From Hawaii
P.S. What is you resolution or your word for 2023? Leave a comment below!
As I type this, I have one hand holding our babe and one hunting and pecking her way through the QWERTY-verse. Coming from a Mavis Beacon graduate (where my elder Millennials at?!) this is a sorry excuse for the flying fingers I’d unleash upon the keyboard just 30 days ago. Still, it’s a drastic improvement from my previous postpartum post. In this last month, I’ve come to learn about this little human I’ve spent the better part of a year growing as well as a few other lessons like…
Finally, after months away and a month and a half apart, I flew home to reunite with my boys. As I stepped into the welcome area, there they were, my furry dudes with flowers in tow.
C’mon Mom, this way!
We all ran together and hugged, Leto wrapping his paws around us both. Not even my swollen sausage toes (compression socks be damned! Pregnancy is running this show) could keep me down. I felt like my half became a whole. Our family was reunited and it truly did feel so good. Ok, let’s listen to it, shall we?
**Sidenote: If you knew that the singers of this song were called Peaches & Herb you are a winner! I can’t believe I’ve known this song FOREVER and have never known that Trivia Night gem of an answer. Amazing.
After a long flight it was straight to an appointment and then our first ever together birthing class. While Zoom is amazing for connecting in a lot of ways, watching the partners together while I looked at my husband in his little bubble and me in mine, thousands of miles apart was a bit of a bummer. So, finally, we got to be in the same room and I got to experience the joys of a birthing partner. Our teacher gets an A+ ranking in my book as a good portion of the class is all about helping the birthing person to feel good and after nearly two months without someone to rub swollen feet or help me out of bed, I was feelin’ good. Uh oh, here it goes again…
The weekend zoomed along and despite our elation to be back together, there were also a bunch of loose ends to tie up. So, we got to tying. Job applications, doctors appointments, grant applications, more doctors appointments, and a few walks on the lagoon. Finally, though, it was time to have a little bit of fun with a mini BabyMoon in Homer. Despite living in Alaska for nearly 7 (!?!) years, there are SO many places I haven’t visited and so many places that The Chief has visited but not for a decade or more. Time to explore together.
Mom, you’re slow. Waddlefest 2022.
For two days we walked and talked our way through Homer, catching up with a dear friend and seeing her gorgeous property, checking out the famous Spit, and taking the shortest walk known to man in diagonal wind and rain. While the weather wasn’t perfect, it was a perfect location overlooking the Kachemak Bay and the mountains. Still, it wasn’t home and after nearly a week in Alaska without crossing our home’s threshold, I was over-ready to get back. It’s a good feeling to miss home. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz and after leaving with a bit of a panic from grey skies, it was good to be ready to return.
We returned from Homer and went straight into chore-mode (relaxing, huh?), hitting all the usual haunts (hello, Costco!) and getting home with just a few minutes to spare before our next birthing class.
I caught myself in the security cam looking as if I was trying to steal a basketball…
A week later and things were a little different. The glow of our reunion was still present but the two days of grey had gotten to me and I was suddenly a teary mess as panic set in. But you know what’s really good for anxiety? Breathing. And you know what you do a lot of in birthing classes? Breathe! The Chief and I laughed as this perfect medicine filled my cup up little by little. We looked into one another’s eyes and the connection held me to the present. Our kiddo kicking me and our Leto “helping” along the way too let me know we were all in this together and…luckily for us, the next day held sunshine.
We awoke early and started the packing process. Since we’d be returning just a few weeks later for another appointment with our midwives, our food haul wasn’t an epic one but since I’d been gone for 6 months, the stuff haul certainly was. Finally, tucked in tight, we made one last stop before hitting the road so Leto could stretch his little legs. As we pulled into the parking lot at the lagoon, the tiny car behind us did too and…boom! Landed straight in a puddle up over the tires. The Chief and I looked at one another knowingly and divided and conquered: I’d walk the dog, he’d get out the tow rope. 10 minutes later, the dog was walked and the people were back on solid ground.
Cloudy with a chance of…what?
Would it be one of those Alaskan days, where everything takes 10x longer because of the most Alaskan things ever happening to you? We would see…
Luckily for us, it was smooth sailing. We made it home with plenty of light on easy roads (“easy” is of course relative. Our kiddo and my bladder would argue otherwise as we all bumped around in the cab but overall, it was pretty mellow) and only once we made it to our driveway did the chains come out. 30 minutes later, chained up and in 4 Low, we plowed and slid and skid our way home sweet home. Walking into our bright, light addition felt so amazing.
The light in the sky was dimming but the room felt luminous. Our dear friend had spent our days away finishing the drywall and painting the room and it was such an incredible joy to return to a project so close to the finish line. I gazed in at my bathtub, soon to be functional and whispered “See you soon”. I can’t wait.
Home(r)ward bound. One week and one day after landing, finally, we are home, and boy oh boy don’t it feel good.
Again, 1,000,000 points to you if you could have named this band. What?!?!
Am I a little nervous for the grey days after living in the land of sun for the last…forever? You betcha. Does the feeling of being with my family, in our own bed, of listening to the sounds of silence and looking at the stars without hearing sirens fill my cup? It sure does. And while the grey malaise came on strong, I have to remember that the last time it hit hard, we were in such a different place: newly pregnant, fearful of experiencing another loss, weary from years in the same place, missing adventure. We return and reunite with a belly that bounces with our beautiful babe, adventure itch scratched (for the time being) and, with a new addition in which to build new memories. We are in a different place and I am so grateful for this next chapter.
Wishing you bright chapters ahead in this time of renewal. Happy Spring!
6 plus years ago, I waved goodbye to The Chief as I drove away with our friend, Anchorage-bound. 5 minutes in, I was laughing through my bon voyage boo hoo. Fifteen minutes later, we were grounded with a wonky wheel that wouldn’t stay put and a need for a Plan B.
Stranded
60 minutes after that, after The Chief raced to come get me and deliver me to the mail plane, my mighty steed for the day, where I bid adieu to my newfound love for the second time that day.
Not a bad view for boo hoo #2
I was off to California for two weddings of four dear friends and five weeks later, The Chief would join me.
A mere five weeks. We’d spent our entire lives without one another, certainly a mere handful of weeks was manageable, right?
Certainly.
Was it fun?
Certainly not.
While it was lovely to return to California to see friends and family and excitedly tell them about our new love, it was hard to part ways. I felt like I had found my magnet match, my opposite pole and now that we were separated, the pull of that other half was constant. I missed the balance, the feeling of home and the feeling of whole. Nevertheless, five weeks eventually flew by and once we reconnected, we resolved the five weeks had been about three weeks too long.
Reunited.Don’t it feel good.
Something we conveniently forgot a few months ago when we made plans for this weekend. And now, it’s here. The weekend of shift, the winds of change, the time for The Chief to depart and for us to spend the next 6+ weeks apart.
Have I mentioned that I can be a little clunky with change?
Change? No thanks.
While we’ve managed over the years to push the 5-week fact out of our minds long enough to plan a 4 week trip for me to visit family and a few one week stints here or there without one another, the windows of our timeframes apart have slowly been narrowing over the years, with our latest longest stint being just under a week.
So, why the sudden decision to go throwback status and spend a month and a half apart? Well, you see, there’s a secret recipe to pregnancy in Alaska. It’s a sort of Build It and They Will Come approach. First, you must buy a Subaru.
Why the unnecessarily aggressive all caps? Well, the key to this preggo plan is to start the addition. The second key is to race the baby to the finish line. Two of my best friends before me have cooked up this recipe in their own abodes and each time, we professed it would be the last time. And then laughed when it wasn’t.
Quick sidenote: I do NOT mean to be flippant about the difficulty of getting pregnant. For us, it took two years and it still doesn’t feel real. I know how hard it is to try and to be utterly grounded each month the potential passes. I did however see a pattern here that I couldn’t help but poke fun at. If you’re in the trying mode, I give you my sincerest wishes that you and yours welcome a babe to your bunch very, very soon. Hang in there, you’re doing great.
Start the addition we did. Now, the race is on. At nearly 6 months pregnant, I’m neither up for a 3,000+ mile roadtrip, nor do we want me plopped in the middle of a fume-filled construction zone. The solution? A division of labor and a division (momentarily) of our family.
“It’s fine. We’re fine. Everything is fine.”
Trina’s amazing Covid holiday card
This is a quote I’ve replayed in my head dozens of times. It originates from a holiday card during OG Covid from a dear friend that just cracked me up. We’re all doing totally fine, right?!?!
Truth be told, I have ridden a mere handful of emotional roller coasters while pregnant. The dreaded pregnancy hormone monsters have been quite kind to The Chief and I. That is, until now, when the reality that my little fambam is about to split two and two, thousands of miles apart, has started to sink in. In the last week, someone turned on the waterworks and they have been plentiful. When The Chief realized he could leave a day earlier because we switched our midwife appointment, I teared up. When I looked at my two furry boys the other morning, cuddled up nose to nose fast asleep, I teared up. When I did my first full load of baby laundry, I teared up.
Snacks included
When the wind shifted, I teared up. It’s tear time.
So, where do we go from here? Well, there’s nothing to distract from tears like work to be done and so far, it’s gone about as smoothly as most of our journeys. Thankfully, we’ve been able to laugh through the hiccups – like having to drive two hours out of our way to pickup our Uhaul that someone decided to drop off at the wrong location to my pregoo brain driving it almost all the way home before we realized we hadn’t stopped at the storage unit on the way home (the whole reason for the Uhaul to begin with). Long hours, long days, swollen feet but still, two near-failed dinners and somehow…still fun.
Burrito baby
Maybe because it’s the last few days together, or maybe becasue we are finally getting better at going with the natural flow of the best laid plans falling by the wayside.
Just saddle up and hang on for the ride
On one of our last nights, after a big day and a wonderful last evening of drinks in the backyard with our landlords, I was beyond tuckered. I awoke to The Chief gently removing my book from my lap. I was still seated fully upright. He laughed as my post-deep sleep confusion muddled my words. He slowly removed the pillows from behind me and laid me down, tucking my enormous pregnancy pillow around me in all the right spots. “Goodnight, my love” he whispered as he shut off my bedside lamp.
I don’t want to go 6 weeks without that but I know time will only make returning to his comfort that much sweeter.
See you in 6 weeks, my loves. See you in 2, sweet reader.
With love,
From California
When the sky reflects all the feels
P.S. Do you and your spouse spend much time apart? How is it for you? Let us know in the comment section below!
Beneath the Borealis 