The first step

This adventure, of leaving the city and moving toward small town life, began with B finding a job. Which he did, spectacularly, quickly. It starts tomorrow. And we're not set to live in Salida for another month. Which means he goes, and the girls and I stay.

He just walked out the door. He'll be back for weekends- about 48 hours per week. That means that (let me get the calculator)... 120 hours per week, for the next 4 weeks, I get to play the role of single mom. I have no idea what I'm in for. Two little girls, two hungry dogs. And me.

I have long believed myself strong. I can get through anything- not always tear free, but I can get through. But there are so many aspects of my life for which I have come to depend on my partner. Meals, bedtimes, packing lunches, taking out the trash, walking the dogs, dishes. And what's this about getting my own coffee going??? Not to mention, the company, the comfort, the support, the laughter... And I'm sure there are a million little things that I'm not even thinking about, that I'll realize I have taken for granted all these years.

This is a unique time in my life. A time to appreciate the chance to bond with my girls in whole new ways. An opportunity to be grateful for all that B does. Another way to show myself that I'm strong.

I can't wait till you get home, B.

Bought and sold.

Or, sold and bought, as the case may be.

Last Thursday, we listed our Denver townhouse. Before anyone ever stepped foot through the door, we had an offer. For 7% over our list price. I thought it was a joke. In fact, I called Brian a choice name when, at 6:15 am, he came to tell me. But it was real. And the offers kept coming. By Friday afternoon, our choice was clear, and we signed the contract.

Fifteen hours later, we were on the beat in Salida, looking for our home there. We went to seven different places. And after the fifth, I began to despair. Perhaps we would not find the home of our dreams. There was the place that reeked of cigarettes. And two with slanted floors. And one with wiring so archaic, it looked as though it might burst into flames.

Then, we stepped into the sixth. And as of 6am this morning, we are under contract to buy it. I knew, the minute I walked through the door, that this place was special. Beautiful, open, natural. Lots of room to love and play, indoors and out. A yard for the kids and dogs. An amazing kitchen to make feasts. A little park across the street, and a beautiful trail leading to downtown. A porch where I'll sit and drink coffee, and watch my girls grow. A deck where we'll grill meals and enjoy a beer. Views that are unbelievable. A place that is quiet. And yet so full of life.

When we came back to Denver last night, and walked into our townhome, I encountered a shred of grief. This place has seen so much. The early years of my marriage. My first, second, third and fourth dogs. The parties. The naps. The babies. That incredible room for my girls. There are so many memories. And when I consider that one day soon, I'll walk out the door for the last time, sadness weighs on my heart.

This next month will be full. Packing, inspections, packing, wrapping up at work, closing this house, closing that house, unpacking. I think, I pray, that this will be a beautiful adventure. Because all I really want is more time with the ones I love; a little simplicity.

But first, the craziness.

Just a little change...

So, for the last 12.5 years, I have prided myself as a city girl. I love the culture, diversity, liberal vibe, shopping, connection to others. If you had suggested that I would be a small town girl, EVER, I might have laughed in your face. How could I move out of this comfort zone? The city feel so alive.

Only, now, I am the Mama of two amazing girls- one preparing to start kindergarten, and the other toddling across the floor as I write. As they have come into my life, as our family has grown, things have changed. Slowly. The problem with the city is that it is... busy. The pace is so fast that I don't have the time to connect- with my girl, my friends, my family. These connections are the MOST important thing in my life. While I have an amazing network of people, I don't have a sense of community. I love where we live, but when Kinnie takes her scooter out for a ride, I don't know that anyone else is watching out for her. Not that they should have to, but just because it would be NICE- you know, if we were all looking out for one another?

That's the thing.

Brian and I have been thinking on this for years. That we want community. That we want more time to be together, and less time commuting. That we want to be able to savor every fleeting moment of our girls' childhoods, without feeling pressed for time.

And so we decided. We're leaving the city. We're headed for small town life.  Denver, I will miss you. You have been a great landing spot for a young couple starting life together. You have helped us grow. It's just time to part ways. We'll be back to visit, because in and around you are our favorite people. I'm sure I'll miss you. I'll miss having three Targets and ten million Starbucks in a three mile radius. I know I'll miss your culture. But it's time.

Salida, here we come.

Ownership

Today, I am struggling with anxiety. I have had depression for 15 plus years, and since I became a Mom, anxiety has been a part of my mental illness. When my first was an infant, the anxiety came naturally, as I was a new mom, and she was a sensitive, colicky baby. Only, the anxiety didn't go away as she overcame her colic. Some days were better, and some worse. I attended therapy, and learned a lot about myself, and my triggers. Now, with another new baby, I have days that feel saturated with anxiety. And this baby is as laid back as they come.

I go through my anxious days trying to determine the source of my anxiety- specifically. Maybe it's that my oldest  is challenging everything I say. Maybe it's that my infant daughter has had health concerns, or that it was a late night last night with her. But as I pondered these questions today, I found myself wondering if I was focusing on the wrong things. Because if those things are causing me to be anxious, I don't have control over them anyway.

I love my non-anxious days. The days when I feel present, and free, and happy.  And something tells me that I have more control than I realize. Anxiety is such a pit, and it is so easy to dig deeper and deeper, rather than just lifting myself out. Not that that is so easy, because if it was, I probably wouldn't be writing this.

Being a Mom is so vulnerable. I strive to do the best for my girls. In fact, my therapist once pointed out that I don't know what good enough is, so I just keep pushing. But they are their own people. And the best laid plans don't always work out. And if Ellie fusses all afternoon, there may be nothing I can do to change that. That's why I realize that it is within me. It is within me to know that each challenge will pass. It is within me to know that I do all I can for my girls, and that this is more than enough. It is within me to accept the things I can't change, and to be present for the great moments and the tough ones. Because the moments do pass quickly.

I think this will likely be a longtime process for me, with good days and bad. And when I googled "mom anxiety," one suggestion in particular was to give up caffeine, which is NOT going to happen. Certainly, there is more that I can do to help myself. Gratitude. Deep breaths. Getting outside. Talking with loved ones. Engaging in play. Reminding myself of the absolute, complete wonder, of watching my two beautiful girls grow. Even with anxiety, I am so blessed.

The Mama of Two

It is Mother's Day. My first as a Mom of two baby girls. Well, one baby. The other insists that she is a big girl. Regardless of how big she is, she will always be my baby.

This day is supposed to be about celebrating moms. I want to celebrate Motherhood. This crazy adventure fills me up.

Before I was surprised by my first pregnancy, I thought I'd probably have kids. But I wasn't convinced. I was having fun living my life. I was pretty fulfilled and I didn't think anything was missing. Then, I got pregnant. I was excited, and scared, and unsure. But the moment my baby was born, I knew: this was my purpose.

Being a Mama is powerful. As far as I know, there is no other experience that can compare. The profound love for my girls rules every moment of my existence. Most of the time, it is a complete joy. Sometimes, the power of that love causes incredible pain. When my child hurts, sometimes I think I feel the pain more deeply than she does.

Purpose. My girls give my life purpose. And when I talk to other Mamas, they feel the same about their kids. Raising beautiful souls from the moment they are conceived leads me to believe there is no greater task. Protecting them, teaching them, guiding them, playing with them, holding them, loving them with all my being- that is my purpose.

So on Mother's Day, when they celebrate me, I celebrate them. I am blessed and grateful. They will never know the power of my love for them, unless, someday, they have children of their own.

An end, A beginning

I have been doing a lot of reflecting these past few days. I suppose ringing in the new year brings this out in all of us. All that has happened, and all that I hope for, motivated me to write- for the first time in a long time.

When it first dawned on me that the New Year was near, I felt relief. 2013 has not been easy. I wanted to label it a bad year, and be done with it. Family has struggled. I have struggled. And not just in the every day type of way. There was an intensity with which 2013 presented its challenges.

For better or worse, I am a thinker. As I continued to ponder 2013, I reflected on who I was on January 1, 2013, versus who I am today. And it is amazing to say that at age 33, I have changed SO much in one year. Some of the change has come from having to face life's circumstances. Some of it came about because I chose to face my own struggles, and to heal. The culmination of all this is powerful beyond words. I feel I have gained wisdom and insight that some might not be fortunate enough to find in their entire lives. I feel humble, and grateful, and tired.

So even though 2013 could have been labeled a "bad year," I think I cannot view this kind of growth in a negative light. And despite all the challenges of the year, I have incredible people with whom I am more connected. Including to my little girl.

In 2014, I hope for fortitude. It will bring the birth of my second daughter, the fourth birthday of my first daughter, my twelfth wedding anniversary. It will bring more opportunities and challenges and changes. But if I can stay in this space, I think I can face them better than ever before. There is no greater gift. Thank you, 2013.

Happy New Year to all.

The therapist's heart

Had a bit of a sleepless night. And that was only partly due to my almost three-year-old who awakened twice and attempted to refuse to go back to bed. It's not often that my work interrupts my sleep, but when it does, my brain just won't be quiet.

The kids and families I work with are a part of my heart. I dedicate a lot of thought to how to help them achieve their goals, whatever those may be. Sometimes even at 3am. And when they aren't getting better, or when things have been better, and they slide backwards, it's really tough. Especially when there is real risk to the kids, or families, of bigger consequences. And sometimes I have to make judgments about what to do next that weigh on me.

It's not that I feel guilt, or blame myself for the suffering, the struggling. It is that I want so badly to help. Because I don't want the Mom who lost one son to lose another. I don't want to send a girl into harm's way. I don't want the boy whose heart is good to get swallowed up in his pain and anger.

So that's why I'm up thinking. What interventions should come next? What haven't we tried? What are we missing?

This is a beautiful job, in so many ways. And the rewards are amazing, when real progress is made, when a mother hugs me and thanks me for all your help. But the reality is that, at least in my practice, that those moments have to feed me through a lot.

And in the meantime, these kids become "my" kids. Because I choose to let them in, and choose to be one more person to try to help them on their path. I have hope for every single one.