We have a 10-year-old daughter and she knows. Like…she KNOWS. Christmas morning. Santa. She knows.
It happened last summer after she had just turned 9. It started with the Tooth Fairy and the conversation quickly turned to the Jolly Old Elf.
All in Life
We have a 10-year-old daughter and she knows. Like…she KNOWS. Christmas morning. Santa. She knows.
It happened last summer after she had just turned 9. It started with the Tooth Fairy and the conversation quickly turned to the Jolly Old Elf.
Schoolhouse Beach. I bet you’ve never been there. I’m convinced you’ve never been there, mostly because it takes dedication to actually get there. It goes something like this…
To be very clear and upfront, I had zero intention of moving to Idaho. Ever.
Yes, my husband was from Idaho. Yes, we got married in Idaho. Yes, we have family in Idaho. But never…
Almost 2 years in, it feels like our first May in Small Town America. In May 2019, we were in the heat of throwing things in boxes and scheduling a moving truck…
On March 17th Eve, our kids know with absolutely certainty that a real life leprechaun visits our house. He is on the hunt for gold and he is ruthless.
I don’t know about you, but I spend about 70% of my day worrying about how bad I’m screwing up my kids.
Well, my New Year’s Digital Detox Week is a wrap. Did you join me? How did your week go??
Here’s how my week went…
The first thing you should know is that politics is not my thing. Politics actually gives me a bit of anxiety. Okay, more than a bit.
Many years ago, before I met my husband, I was in a pretty serious relationship. As far as I could tell at the time, this was the person I was going to marry. Obviously, that didn’t happen.
Years ago, well before we moved to Idaho, it would not have been uncommon for us to drop $700 on one of our kids’ birthdays.
I knew I would be different when I moved to our small town. There’s just no way you take a suburbanite from a metropolis of 10 million people, plunk her down in a rural community of 3,000 and not expect her to be a fish out of water.
If you’ve followed this blog from the beginning, you know that last year, my husband and I moved from my home turf of suburban Chicago to his home turf of rural Idaho.
Well, we’ve officially reached the 1-year mark. One year of living in Small Town, America.
If you’re reading this post on the morning I’m releasing it, I’m likely on an airplane right now. Odds are, my husband dropped me and our kids off at the Salt Lake City airport in the wee hours of the morning, and the three of us are totally masked and sanitized on an airplane.
Each June, I make a very concerted effort to let it all go. Let go of the schedule. Let go of the alarm clock. Let go of the perfectly curated monthly meal plan.
It was a piece of paper that would follow me around for the next decade. I would have it under a magnet on the refrigerator in some years. For other years, I would know exactly what shoe box it was in, and I would dig out the paper as the hot tears of young motherhood streamed down my face.
Some of you are going to hate me for saying this. I’m going to make some of you scream. Some of you might even ::gasp:: unfollow me.
It’s okay. I’ll survive.
I told someone “No” last week. And it was hard. I felt so guilty that I’m still thinking about it now.
In general, I like to say “Yes”. Actually, I love to say “Yes”. I love to feel like I can do it all and make everyone happy.
People pleaser, reporting for duty!
It’s easy to say “no” to people you don’t like. But what about the ones you do like?