Tangled Truths.

Welcome to my life. One moment work driven, leading, managing, making decisions, driving business. Pausing midway through my day to read an interesting article, topic covers women and how we should stop trying to do everything.

Agreeing with that article, thinking, “Okay. I’m okay – I’m not crazy. Whew, good deal that I can’t keep up with:

This blog.
A consistent Yoga schedule.
Finishing that book.
Getting in that bedtime story every night.
All the mama things I think but don’t do.
Not nag.
That email I need to send.
That phone call I need to make.”

At which point in my day I pause to go relate to other mama’s of the world, catching up with some of my favorite blogs. I settle in, reflecting on life, softening up a bit. Realizing, it’s all going to be okay. I can do this.

I have so many aspirations, as I’m reminded often that life is short, and I want to take full advantage of my one wild and precious life. In the midst of this I tend to be my own worst critic, calling myself out on my shortcomings and all things not accomplished that day/week/month. Assuming that a couple of bad weeks that get in the way of juggling all priorities means permanence. I get frustrated; I give up, I self doubt.

Inevitably it’s at those points in my life that simplicity shows its true colors, and I’m reminded, to chill out. That I can do it. That all of those truths I know I want, I have, and I’m doing. I was feeling this way Friday night, and on into Saturday morning. Through tears and getting ready to take my daughter to ballet I’m screaming at my husband that I’m totally failing as I felt the strain of my work schedule, lots of late nights, client dinners, feeling out of shape, noticing my kiddos seemingly getting along just fine without me…

I get there, drop her off, and my son and I take a stroll – just the two of us – to the bookstore. Alone time with my son, or either of my kiddos for that matter, is rare. This, I realize, is a moment I need to fully wrap myself into.

We spend time playing with the trains, marching around the kiddos section, and it dawns on me that we should go on an adventure to find a book about elephants. Elephants are my son’s FAVORITE thing, hands down. As we “go to find the elephants” he’s aimlessly wandering the bookstore, wide-eyed, absorbing it all and stopping every five feet to pull something off the shelf. With the help of a very sweet employee, we had two elephant books in hand, and we headed to a big comfy chair to dive right in. It was at this moment that I caught my breath again. He’s two, but he read to me. He showed me the different elephant pictures and repeated himself 1034 times. Closing the book, opening the book, pointing to a page, saying “the end.” It was exactly what I needed. Simple.

I do have an ambitious to do list, not going to lie. For me, it’s simply not okay to not get to all of it. I just have to remind myself that getting to all truths all at once requires the sun and the moon to align with the stars and nothing short of miracle to happen. That leaves me with my own constant truth – life is good. Stop, smell the roses, sit on the sideline a bit, it will all be there to get picked back up.

My truth: A new dawn is a new day, and a new day is another try.



To stay consistent with several of my last posts, as few and far between as they may be, I need to talk about a very important transition. Changes. A transition that I think subconsciously I was putting off simply to slow down time…

My littlest G is sleeping in his own bed, upstairs, in his own room.

My husband and I have never had our kids sleep in our actual bed, but next to it in a bassinet. It’s so much easier those first few months to just reach your arm out, find the paci, feel them breath, get up to feed them when you’re a foot away. Listening to a newborn baby breath in the still of the night warms my soul.

Two weeks old.

Five months old now, ready to move more, stretch out, kick, be on.his.own.

So last week we did it. We took him upstairs to his room, laid him down in the crib, he was asleep in less than 5 minutes. My sweet little baby boy, all grown up already, I stayed there for a few minutes just soaking it all in, letting go, transitioning.