I wasn’t expecting a full stop life change after a week-long family vacation.

I’m sitting here, clicking these words out on the other side of a trip that feels indescribable. But, me being me, I’m going to try. To put into words the switch that has flipped inside.  The person who left for that trip is not the same one sitting here now.   

I’m going to do that thing I used to do.

Sit here, set a timer for 30 minutes and let ‘er rip. Old school.

A mental purge of all the things on the inside coming out. Without trying to make Something Good.

Here we go.

My confidence was luke-warm and what I did have felt fake. 

The pull was strong. And even though I wanted to ignore it and stuff it down, I couldn’t.

Believe me, I tried.  I back-pedaled and busied myself. I rearranged my house, cleaned out junk drawers and Amazon’d cat food. I made lots of excuses.

I have small kids!  How can anyone do anything when they are in charge of raising humans? 

I had so many reasons why I could not do the thing. 

When I rise, it’s still dark. The sun is sleeping. I hear frogs, palms swaying.

The wall of windows I walk past from our bedroom to the kitchen gives nothing away but blackness.

Will the day emerge? It must. It always does. God placed these reliable comforts here for us to lean on. To be the scaffolding of our days.

Moments later, within these walls I call home, my own world emerges.

The girls stumble down, Aster first. Messy haired, sandman eyes. Usually rubbing them as she squints against the lights I’ve flipped on even though they are dim.

If you’re a mom, then January as the “new year” pales in comparison to September.

September is mom porn. Just looking at the calendar page in my planner makes me swoon. Ask any mom and they will get sparkles in their eyes when you say the S word.

Summatime is over. Kids are back in school. Fresh start. Clean slate. The 100 Day weekend is over and you f*ing did it. It’s a big deal. I celebrate all the moms out there. I see you sitting in your car post first day drop off squealing with delight. I’m with ya.

It’s late. Way past my bedtime. But I have to get it down. I think it’s the only way I’ll be able to sleep.

I come here. To this little portal of words. My therapist’s couch, my processing place. To work through the big and small. To make sense of, to piece together, all the gifts that are nestled inside all the feels.

Today was a big one. I thought I was ready for it.

Like a lot of things related to being a parent, I was wrong. I was not ready. At all.

Today we watched our first born step out into the “world” (errr, sleep away camp bubble) without us.

Mostly when we think of baptism we think baby. My mind goes right to a little cherubesque babe, wearing a long white gown & old fashion bonnet, held in their parents arms, surrounded by family, godparents, a priest. In a church. Invitations, family travel plans, brunches. There’s a way these things are done. A checklist of what it’s all supposed to look like. It most certainly does not involve a jean shorts and t-shirt wearing grown-up (ahem, me), wading out into the ocean with other grown-ups dunking you in the salty ocean water.

No one. No calvary. No superhero.

You don’t need ‘em. You are the Superhero. You save yourself.

When I finally got this, like reeeeeeally got it, I felt reborn. Liberated.

This is my attempt to grasp at all the feels of being a Mom to this magical human. Of remembering the everyday moments of watching a tiny life grow, unfold, blossom. To mark them, to remember them, to hold them even though I know that the only way I can do so is in words and feels and love. That as sharp and piercing as they feel now, time will apply a layer of blur and haze. These memories tapped out into words is my way of marking a season of life and time that simultaneously stands still (is it bedtime yet?!) and moves at mach speed (3?! how?).

The kids are back in school. Basically a National Holiday. I’m celebrating a very important independence - Mine.Cue the ball drop, a promising midnight kiss, and an ambitious All The Things I’m Going to Do list that rivals that of the President. My world feels pregnant with potential. I’m in the bring it on mindset. I’ve gone mad. Delusional. Temporarily blinded by the teeny tiny sense of mom freedom that comes as the calendar flips to fall.

I’m firing my brain back up in ways that used to be my norm. While being Mom. You know, like, at the same time. Apparently I forgot that’s an option. I ditched my I can’t have both approach and have integrated Mom Life into Me Life. And, as it so magically does, the world dropped me a lifeline exactly when I needed it.