I recently checked in with my longtime online Mom's Group and asked for life updates. Here is what I shared on my own behalf.... Kind a a good checkpoint summary, so I wanted to add it here for posterity.

*********************************

Quick updates from the Southerland house:

 

First, here's our most recent family photo. I took the kids and Joe out to get photos of them specifically, and everyone was actually cooperating and chill, so I jumped in a few at the end and am shocked at how I don't hate them. haha!

 

Life is pretty good here. Nothing spectacular, but also nothing very miserable. Joe and I finally bought the house we live in, about 1.5 years ago. It's stressing Joe out to have to adult so hard, but it's a good thing overall. As long as you don't notice how the slab addition side of the house is starting to break away from the rest of the structure. Those big dark crevasses are fine as long as we spray them for spiders, right?  

 

Joe is working at SIUE in Illinois--- he started the job right in the middle of 2020 nonsense, and it's a good job. It came with a promotion in position and a raise. But now he is restless that there is no room for growth there, so he is beginning to contemplate the next degree-- a PhD or Ed degree. Whew!

 

Noah continues to blow us away with his quirky interests and passions. He is one of a kind for sure. He loves his engineering class, loves his Rocketry and Politics clubs, and is in two non-school choirs, one of which gets to go to Carnagie Hall this June. He is opinionated, hyper-intellectual, and a fountain of random knowledge. He wants to live in Finland. He wants to be a Renaissance Man in that he doesn't want to have to specialize in his life, he just wants to embrace it all-- music, languages, geo-politics, engineering, science, writing, etc. He's 6' tall and funny and a little "old man grumpy", and really just a good kid.

 

Lucy has been thriving in her first year of middle school! She has been medicated for ADHD since the beginning of the school year, and she really seems to have a handle on her anxiety and her inattentive ADHD issues. She got a 4.0 last semester, WHOA. She is growing into herself and I can see it, and it brings me a lot of peace and happiness. I have spent way more than my fair share of parenting energy worrying about this girl. But for now, all is well. 

 

Quinn is the one I am currently worrying about. I just want to make sure he doesn't get lost in the crowd of big personalities in this family. I want to give him opportunities to be a leader after spending his whole life following Noah. I want to make sure he gets to practice voicing his own opinions and ideas. And I just want him to feel seen and loved just the way he is. I also want to get him a leopard gecko. I think he needs something to take care of, and our attempts at a betta fish two years ago just kept ending in tragedy. I don't have the heart for more attempts. 

 

Larkin is as Larkin as ever, and that's really all you need to know. Cats are still basically 56% of her whole personality, she is bright and happy and helpful and clever and creative. She's a classic baby of the family too-- doesn't clean up after herself and doesn't like to be told NO. But mostly she's a gem. Kindergarten can barely keep up with her. 

 

And I am chugging along. I began a daily walking habit when they started the school year--and have only missed two days since August. It's been fulfilling in ways I could not have imagined when I set the goal. In some ways, it's like I'm parenting my inner child in that I am nudging myself to get outside and breathe the fresh air more, and I get to be read to (storytime!) when audiobooks are in my ears. Weirdly healing. I also joined my first official choir since being married, and it is bringing me so much joy. I should've been finding a way to sing all along. I mean, technically I DID sing all along-- just in my car and to my kids at bedtime. Not enough. It's such a lesser-visible part of my world here, but I really was born to sing, and it means the world to me to get to do it again so regularly. Photography is still going strong, and I still love it 90% of the time, and it definitely helps keep our family afloat and keeps my kids in new shoes and such. I am finishing up the paperwork to become a sub in our school district, but I really only want to take a sub job maybe once or twice a week at most. 

 

And that's us! If I could change anything, I'd have:

1. a new minivan

2. an addition added to this house, plus those cracks repaired.

3. two more solo hours a day, which is greedy because I already now get 7 a day as it is. 

 

And that's it. Life is pretty good.♥

Surving Being a Burned Out Human But Also A Mother

 What can you do, as a mother, when you are having a day where you're particularly beaten down by anxiety, or depression, or PMS hormones, or just plain life burnout? 

There are a million words of beautiful advice out there for days like this:

"Keep taking time for yourself until you're you again." -Lalah Delia

"Always be kinder than you feel." -anon.

"Plug into only people that inspire and energize you. Those that have nothing but unconditional love and judgment-free understanding for you." -Carlie Maree

But not enough words for the mothers who have to still show up, all day that day, for the children. What can you you when you have to keep going that day, in spite of the heavy weight of despair or apathy or constant irritation? You can't just..... take the day off. Take care of yourself and let things go. You can't just "unplug" from the challenging humans in your house. Your children, even in their uninspiring and unenergizing tantrums and whines and conflicts, need you there that day. Perhaps you have a baby who truly does rely on you for food all day long. Perhaps you have more than one child. Perhaps your children are all a very young age. Or perhaps, like in my case, you have some independent older children, but there are 4 of them, and it is a school break, so you have all four of them relying on you for a full day of parenting.... even if it's just the regulating of sibling conflict, the making sure there are meals, the keeping them out of danger. Again, loving words of advice might say, "Ask for help.... Find someone to babysit even for an hour or two." But what if that particular day of emotional derailment came out of the blue (as it is wont to do), and there isn't really time to make alternate arrangements? What if it's the holidays, and everyone else in the world is a bit tapped out themselves, so it feels like an additional burden to your heart to try to find someone to carry YOUR load for a minute?

What can you do? 

You can stay, slog through, go through the motions of daily mom'ing.... and worry your children are suffering because they only have a snappish, tired, impatient mom all day long.

You can put on cartoons and check out a little (a nap? A hot shower and a long cry? A different room with a book?).... and worry your children are suffering because they are being parented by a screen all day. 

You can turn to your spouse. Maybe they can take a half day? But then you worry they are going to worry about(judge?) your ability to parent. And maybe they are also tapped out, but at work, and asking this of them increases their burden. Or maybe you don't have a spouse to ask in the first place. 

What can a mother do?

Wouldn't it be so wonderful if this was one of those tidy little articles that tackles a tough problem, and then lists a few really helpful, insightful solutions? Ways to shift your mindset, or fix the issue, or prevent it in the future... I really love those articles. They are often a lifeline for me. 

I'm sorry to say, this isn't one of those. 

This is just me having a beaten down day-- for me today, triggered by my period and by post-busy-season burnout and by holiday chaos and by winter break-- feeling so sad and mad that I am snappish and sarcastic and irritable to my four beloved-but-kind-of-annoying children. This is just me wondering..... IS there anything a mom can do when it gets like this, really? When it's the perfect storm of Mom Mood, Kid Behavior, Holiday Madness, and School Break and really, there AREN'T any other solutions but to push through, albeit snappishly? I think there isn't. There isn't a thing to do here.... Except maybe frantically type out some stuff while the kids are outside for a minute (ignoring the shouts of arguments and the wailing of one 6-year-old being yelled at by his younger sister).... And maybe find a little catharsis in the writing. 

Gotta say, though.... even after all the typing.... I still need a good cry. Probably gonna go put on another cartoon for the yahoos and get through the rest of the day. 

For next time, though--- anyone have a genius suggestion that is also realistic? 

* 

Photo from fall 2016, by my beloved best friend Kate Benson

The Story in the Details Today

It’s a slow, unhurried Wednesday morning, with nothing on the agenda. The sun is shining and spring is definitely beginning to peek its head around the corner. Larkin and I are tucked together on the couch under the same blanket. She is drinking chocolate milk and eating small powdered donuts while she watches “Pumpkin George”, one of her top cartoon picks (Curious George Boo Fest). I have a kindle book and some cross stitching on hand, and it’s completely okay if we stay right here for awhile.

Sitting here, I notice how Noah is slowly taking over the top of our TV cabinet with his various treasures— Legos and Chicago souvenirs from last week’s trip.

I am lightly amused by the story of our family life this armoire-top is telling today. Here is what I see:

1. The “real” decor— a beautiful and cheerful print, “Don’t Worry, Be Happy”, by Rifle Paper Co., a gift from my bestie Genny. An antique black fan, a treasure find from our Masonic Lodge caretaking days. The “Be Attitudes” and “@“ signs on the wall. (I always meant to also hang a “home” sign next to the “@“, so it would make more sense.)
2. The box for Joe’s bb8 Sphero. Missing the actual bb8, which I need to round up for him.
3. The Mylar balloon word “love”, leftover from my Valentine’s photo shoot. I couldn’t bring myself to toss it yet, so it just hangs out here.
4. Tucked in back, mostly out of sight, the odious bucket of faux snowballs my kids LOVE and I loathe. A gift from a sister several years ago, these things end up in every corner of this room when the kids decide to play “snowball fight” (in fact, from my spot on the couch, I see at least one rogue ball under the toy bench. Of course.). And these things gather alll the hair and strings and lint and are just old and dingy and gross and are NEVER all in one place together. The kids LOVE THEM. Joe put the bucket up here, sort of hidden, after picking them up yet again last night.
5. Two DVD cases— one for Wall-E, another of Larkin’s current favorites, and one for Ponyo, one of the latest in Joe’s attempts to educate his kids in the Studio Ghibli canon of films.
6. Several LEGO creations- some original designs and some from sets, all of them Noah’s, set out of reach of Larkin. Eventually, he will be asked to take these back upstairs to his LEGO table, but for now, they’re “decor”.
7. And the most recent additions— Noah’s two Chicago souvenirs, a Willis Tower bell and a skyline snow globe, both carefully chosen and paid for with his souvenir allowance (“plus I’m going to use ten dollars of my own money while we’re in Chicago, okay, Mom?”). He is really proud of these items. He chose well.

At any given time, there are little stories in the details of our homes— things that matter, evidence of challenging times or good memories or current routines that will one day be obsolete. When the house is all tidied up and things are put away, that tells a story. And when things are awry and “stuff” is strewn and set about, those items tell a story too. And all of it is worth telling. When my home is put together and all the Legos and souvenirs and old photo props are put away, the story is that I am feeling cheerful and motivated and productive, and probably at peace and maybe in a planning/goal making groove. When there is a little bit of semi-organized clutter about, our lives are probably a little busier than usual, or we’ve had a few more gray days than usual... but it’s still kind of neat to think about why things end up where they are, not yet put back away: like I can see Quinn’s lovey and two of his stuffed animals over on the toy bench, and I realize he brings at least one item from his bed downstairs every morning before school— just to help him transition from cozy jammie sleep to getting dressed and ready for the day. It’s sweet, actually, and I don’t mind putting his lovey and friends back upstairs for him most days. Or Noah’s souvenirs: I know they are still new enough that they are freshly special to him, so if he wants them here, in the family room, on display for now... I can let them stay for awhile.

Ultimately, I’ll find another pocket of cheerful motivation, and things will get put back away. And that’s great. But today, I’m enjoying the details of the things left out, the things out of place... and I’m relishing the feeling of a full home and a good, simple, sometimes crazy little life here.

Every Morning For Now

Every morning for the last six years, give or take a few, this is one of the places I stand-- behind my girl, a basket of supplies nearby, wrangling tangles and coaxing Lucy's thick hair into a ponytail, or a braid or two. First I take out any previous ponytail holders. Then I usually add a small dollop of leave-in-conditioner, focusing primarily on that middle patch of hair in the back where her hair begins to spill down her back-- the place where tangles form into a briar patch of knots. I then spray her hair with water and begin working out tangles with a Wet Brush-- a miracle brush I've had less than a year that I should have spent the money on years ago. As much as I try to keep the pain to a minimum, she flinches on many of the brush strokes until I've managed to get the tangles out or down to the part of her hair where I can then grip the whole mass of hair and use my fist as the buffer to pain while I yank on tangles more vigorously within the ponytail hanging down from my hand. If you've ever brushed long hair, I'm certain you know exactly what I'm talking about. 

Once her hair is tangle-free, I make a part in the top front, and pull her face-framing hair into a small ponytail or french braid, only along the right side of her head-- preventative measures to keep her hair out of her face all day. There is nearly never a day that her right front side of her hair is not contained in one of these ways. I've never been able to let myself let it go, and consequently, she has never learned how to keep her hair out of her face herself. I still don't know just how much of a disservice I've done her by always keeping her hair tamed.... time will tell, I suppose. 

After this first ponytail/braid, I then usually either brush her hair into a low pony or into two braids. Again, this almost never varies, and the reasons are nuanced: 1. Since hearing scare stories from fellow moms about head lice, I decided early on in her school career that I'd just go ahead and never send her to school with her hair down. Easy enough. 2. But because she nearly never has her hair down, when I do give her that option, say for church or just a random summer day, she nearly never opts for it. She is a creature of routine, and I've created the routine of "hair up", so she doesn't choose "hair down". 3. I've tried to talk her into a bun or two. Nope-- too different from the routine. 4. I snuck her hair into a high ponytail last week-- her first one-- and she didn't say anything about it. Good or bad. Which means maybe I can add that to the menu now. But maybe still not actually ask her if she wants it or not. Because she'll say no. Because it's not what she's used to. But she didn't mind it when it was in all day last week. So.

At least once a month, when she's particularly vocal about the hair-brushing pain, usually after two or three days of being home with nowhere to be, and not having her hair brushed daily-- these days which also seem to yield a higher likelihood that she'll either be in costume and/or rolling around the floor/in a blanket/in and out of a play tent/etc. where friction compounds her tangles--I then threaten to take her to get her hair cut. Not short.... not like a bob or anything.... But maybe shoulder-length? I tell her that it would make hair-brushing a breeze every time. She says she loves her long hair, and used to protest the idea of a cut more... but recently, she hasn't argued to keep it long when I bring it up. So I see a trim in our future. Maybe only 3-4". 

After all this--- the actual work and the overthinking of the actual work.... the agony (for her head and my nerves) of working out particularly bad tangles...the wondering if I've created problems by under-instructing her on how-tos and over-containing the flyaway potential and being too routine overall.... After all this, I still love the feel of her hair under my hands. I love the moment every day that we are physically connected, engaging in a timeless ritual between mother and daughter. I love that she lets me. (That she doesn't even know any different). I love turning chaos into silken order. I'm even getting better at the braiding bit. 

But as she moves from age 7 to age 8 soon, I've begun to realize I can't do it for her forever. She's going to need to learn some things for herself. So we've begun a few little lessons here and there-- how to brush one's own hair. How to make a ponytail (I never realized how complicated this is to someone who's never done it. Harder than tying shoes, even.) Soon I'll begin helping her try shampooing and rinsing her own hair. (It's so THICK. I haven't been able to bring myself to let her do it on her own yet... all I can envision is clumps of conditioner still deep in her hair, unrinsed.) 

I know a large percentage of mothers out there would read this and be SHOCKED we've not done any of this until now. But maybe some of the moms are where I'm at. And maybe a few more won't even begin this much teaching until a few more years after age 8. To each her own. I think maybe the girls will all turn out okay in this area, eventually. (Though watching my girl with a ponytail holder, still not grasping how to pull the hair through it.... ay yi yi.)

All this to say-- Every morning for the last six years, this ritual, this act of love and caregiving, has been a good and humble work. The simple task of brushing hair, braiding hair, smoothing hair. Using my hands to show her I love her and I care about her well-being. And one day it'll be over. She'll take the brush into her own hands and she'll learn her own way. And I will miss this. But I get to do it a while longer. Every morning. Every morning for now. 

Hello, 2019: 10 Minute Freewrite About Blogging

Ten-minute morning freewrite, and GO:

If there is one thing that I've accidentally let go of that has simplified my life, it is blogging. Putting it on my to-do list, struggling to make time for it, agonizing over how much I WASN'T managing to blog about, stressing about having photos ready for each post.... That has slipped away this past year, and as I sit here reflecting on that, I realize that that self-made pressure is completely GONE. Gone. And that this is a blessing. 

If there is one thing that I've accidentally let go of that is creating a wound in my soul, it is blogging. Creating space for myself in front of this computer, allowing myself to "be a writer" for a bit.... Stream-of-consciousness typing therapy.... Plus having sweetly documented moments in my family's life, as well as really the only journal of my own journey that isn't just images (I'm looking at you, Instagram, phone camera roll, etc.).... This has slipped away this year, and as I sit here reflecting on it, I am profoundly sad. 

It's not the BLOG (say it they way I just did in my head, "BLAAAHHHHHHHHG", with a teenagery voice and an eyeroll)..... It's not. I don't aspire (anymore) to be this clever, popular blogger. I don't NEED the world to read along and nod their heads (though you, whoever you are reading this, still give me little bubbles of joy when you read and nod your head and maybe even comment). It's the writing-paired-with-images that fed my soul. It's the steady, semi-consistent checking in with my own self in the form of writing that was the beautiful part of this. 

Yesterday, I was finally adding words to my "Through My Doorways" post that had had images on it since I created the post in November. And I really wanted to link a part of the post back to a previous post that I swore existed, but I couldn't recall exactly what year I'd posted it. So I spent the better part of an hour just scrolling my blog. Clicking "older posts" again and again, going further and further back. Never even reaching that strange, hazy time before we lived in this house in Ballwin, and yet there were still SO MANY posts and so so so so so SO MANY photos between yesterday and summer 2013, and I just...... wow. I suddenly felt the loss of it keenly, acutely, and deeply. I realized that even if I'd accidentally stopped making myself stress about blogging, I'd also accidentally stopped allowing myself to blog as a therapy art form.

My 10-minute timer just went off. Larkin is awake and chatting to herself in her crib. 

I have no lovely conclusions. This was just a freewrite. But.... I think I'm back on blogging.

The Day After the Snow Day

The three older kids have been put on the bus and the baby is still sleeping. The house is warm, and it is quiet. My focus for November was supposed to be, appropriately, "Thankful", and yet I've not done a great job at pausing to think of things I am thankful for. It's been so busy-- photo sessions and rehearsals and church callings and visits and lunchdates and flu shots and even a snow day. It's been challenged by upsets in the routine. By fresh things to worry about. By colds and coughing coming from various rooms in the house. 

But right now, the day-after-the-snow-day, with the older kids dressed, fed, combed, bundled, and sent off to school and the little bundle of energy and opinions still slowly stirring to the morning light in her room... with only the sound of the dishwasher and the furnace quietly in the background, I am taking a very intentional moment to pause and say, "this moment is a gift, and I am at peace." I am feeling the calm of the in-between. And I am thankful. I am the MOST thankful for the life in between the calm--- those crazy kids, that steadfast husband, the friends and the family and the adventures and the life experiences-- but this morning I am also profoundly grateful for the pauses in between, when there is enough space to reflect and remember. If not for these beautiful pauses, I'm afraid my life would just keep sweeping me along and I wouldn't be able to say, as I whipped past another experience, thing or person, "that was amazing! I'm so lucky! Hooray for this adventure/humorous mishap/life lesson!" Perhaps that's a skill I need to work on-- to be able to grab those realizations in the middle of the frenzy-- but that's a hard one. And I'm not there yet. 

So for today, I am relishing this sunny, quiet, peaceful morning pause. And with it, all the hard stuff and the crazy stuff and the good stuff I've been experiencing all this month are settling into focus and I am able to say THANK YOU to all of it. I am thankful for it, every bit. "Life is brutal. But it's also beautiful. Brutiful, I call it. Life's brutal and beautiful are woven together so tightly they can't be separated...So now I embrace both, and I live well and hard and real..." -Glennon Doyle Melton 

Happy second-half-of November. I hear a Larkin beginning to squawk, so this moment is nearly done. Time to get back to work. 

♥

Happy First Birthday, Baby Girl!

12 months of this girl.... How lucky am I?

Inspired By Roxy Marj

 

Once upon a time I had a magical friend named Roxy. She was my neighbor when I lived in a secret studio apartment next to a smokey, stinky bar in Provo, Utah, and even back then, when she was not even 19, she was an incredibly inspired artist. It was a sparkly, surreal, marvelous season of my life-- those months I spent time with Roxana, aka Roxy Marj. 

I lost her for many years... occasionally scouring the web for any sign of her, using her given name, using clues from our time together. I never could find her until one day, through some especially clever googling, THERE SHE WAS--her style still unmistakable, even as it had evolved. She'd since gone on to Parsons School of Design, and was now a wonderful designer artist with a wonderful brand, designing for Land of Nod and running her own online store as well. I cannot tell you how excited I felt to find her again. 

Since then, we keep in touch lightly via Instagram. She is so lovely-- inside and out-- and doing so well with her art, currently working on cultivating some children's stories and illustrations, and it's a joy to see her journey online. 

So one day in the dead of winter, this past January, she posted an illustrated digital quilt square of a bonneted baby among white hydrangeas, and I fell instantly in love, and vowed to recreate the concept in a photograph, with my Larkin. She also instagrammed two more versions of this wonderful image, here and here.

And I waited for Larkin to sit up and for summer to bring hydrangea bushes to full bloom; and I commissioned a red pixie bonnet from another amazing Instagram artist, Cynthia from Simply Wilde Knitting. I borrowed a beautiful spot in my friend Tina's yard (thank you, Tina!!) and in spite of my stinker baby who tried to tear her sweet bonnet off at EVERY chance (thank you, Tina, also, for helping me wrangle my baby and for helping keep her bonnet straight!), I managed, on a sticky humid summer evening, to make my little project a reality. Check out my little Roxy Marj baby! 

Sweet baby in a red bonnet, surrounded by blooms on a summer evening.... I am in love. 

Thank you, Roxy. Thanks for inspiring my own artist soul once upon a time, and for inspiring me anew with the art you continue to make. You're one of a kind and I cherish you! 

*

Change Is Good

Well, I turned 40. I'm still not quite sure how it happened, since my perception of "40" and the reality of actually BEING 40 are so totally different. It's really kind of crazy how it feels-- to face my perception of who is "supposed" to be 40, and what 40 is "supposed" to look like, and to realize that I have had it all wrong. Which means:

A. People younger than me probably have it all wrong, too, and I am suddenly "40" to them. 

B. I was wrong about everyone older than me. 

Gosh, so mind-bending. 

Anyway. Here we are. And in honor of this weird, unsettling, exciting, mind-bending milestone, my dear friend Julia helped me commemorate the occasion with some rainbow-haired self-portraits. Why not? 

And since change is the name of the game this summer, I also gave my trusty old blog a makeover-- a cleaner, more current, simpler vibe over here. Easy. Fresh. 

I'd love your feedback! What do you think of the look/feel of this blog redo? How does it navigate? Do you miss anything? Love anything? 

*Be forewarned: from June 2013 back to the beginning, in 2006, there are MANY photos that have been "blocked" by Photobucket, who I used to use to host my images. They have made a really unpleasant change in their Terms of Use and now insist on a major monthly payment to allow me to use their site to host the images. And NO THANK YOU. So for now, my archives from 2006 to 2013 are not awesome. 

And I'd also love your thoughts/experiences on turning 40. 35. 30. 60? Whatever age felt like a weird milestone for you, I'd love to hear about it. I try to reply to comments here on Blogger, but never know if Blogger notifies the commenter... I don't know. *shrug* You'd think after doing this for ELEVEN YEARS (holy crap that's the first time I calculated that number. ELEVEN years of blogging. Wow.) I'd know more about some of the features. 

Anyway. Here's to fun changes and rainbow hair at 40. Carpe diem!

Morning No.1: 9.1.25