Yesterday I lost my car keys. I had driven home, so I knew they were somewhere in my possession but I’d checked my purse, dresser, kitchen, the car cup holders and under the seat. Admitting defeat, I took my husband’s spare keys that morning and drove to work.

That afternoon, spare keys in hand, I picked up the kids from their grandparents after school, buckled in Little B and started the ignition. Spare keys were still in hand. My keys were in the ignition. 

I don’t even know where the switch happened. Did I set them down the last time I got my son from the car only to subconsciously pick them up again while buckling him in? 

If you’re like me, your brain is just as fried during this time of year. I’m already a huge multi-tasker with a knack for time management, but the tasks and to-do lists of the holidays test these skills to the extreme.

Between shopping, cooking and planning there are spirit weeks, recitals and parties. I’ve found the best thing to do when I’ve got two pairs of car keys is to laugh, and just keep going.

After more than a year of schedule changes, working from home with kids, giving in to tantrums as a temporary solution, and unintentionally rewarding negative behavior, our house was in need of a reset. We needed something positive to motivate good behavior. I fell back on a tool I’d used with both boys during potty-training- the reward chart.

I got a great chart off Amazon (this one) with interchangeable tasks that the boys and I chose together. They each decided on a goal and a reward, like choosing a dessert outing or a round of mini golf. The first week was full of chart excitement! Each task they accomplished and star they stuck on was welcomed with joy and pride.

They both earned more than 25 out of 40 stars, reaching their goal. The next week, we set out to start again and chose new tasks. I asked them their goals.

That’s when I caught a glimpse of the differences in their personalities. I suddenly remembered how my approach to potty-training each of them the exact same way had completely different results.

Big B suggested moving his goal to the very maximum. He wanted perfection. Then, Little B looked up at me and asked, “can I just do ten?”

We’ve been doing the reward charts on and off for about three months now and that pretty much sums up how it’s going. Big B likes to check each of his boxes. Little B seems more satisfied in the process, choosing only tasks he enjoys like watering plants, and shrugging his shoulders when they don’t get done.

If you’re considering a reward chart to influence your little one’s behavior for the better, I would love to tell you that ours have been a resounding success. Truth is, it all depends on the kid.

Three years ago, I had an idea for a backyard play area that my then toddlers could really enjoy. I’m a big fan of upcycling, so I took some old tires, a kiddie pool and an old entertainment center and created a space in our backyard with a sandbox, climbing structures, a vegetable garden, and outdoor mud kitchen. Just in time for the boys’ first and fourth birthdays; they loved it.

They played in it for three years, but as Big B’s legs grew longer he could hardly sit in the sandbox. The outdoor mud kitchen turned more mud than kitchen and the paint had worn and plastic crumpled over time. It looked like a mess. The backyard play area needed a remodel.

Still a fan of upcycling, I sat down with the boys, now 7 and 4, to design a new space that would incorporate their imagination. They came up with some pretty elaborate ideas! After realizing I wasn’t engineering-inclined enough to build a custom rock wall or water feature, we simplified the concept into something more realistic, but I made sure they could still add their creative touches.

Inspired by their current obsession with building and Legos, I designed a space that wouldn’t make our backyard look like a mess. Well, it would, but this time it’s supposed to. What better way to let the boys dig in dirt and sand than to install their very own construction site?

Taking the tools we already owned, adding a few elements like construction signs and wood borders, we added 1.5 tons of sand to be sure Big B wouldn’t grow out of the new sand box. A fresh coat of paint, a 7-gallon camping jug, and a digger from Amazon put the finishing touches onto this new play area to make it versatile and fun. They’ve already played in it for hours, digging, building castles, making moats, and more. Our neighbors have been getting in on the fun too! A towel by the back door keeps us from bringing a whole beach inside.

These boys continue to build, create, and grow, and I love being able to make space for them to do just that.

The last year and a half has been filled with constant adjustment and change. We went into total lockdown, learned to work and school from home, adjusted to masking and sanitizing, then hybrid working and back to school that looked and felt a bit different than it used to. Our daily schedules have been overhauled on a quarterly basis, like many families right now. Though change is never easy, it does make it easier to keep changing.

Four months ago, I graduated with my Master’s in Digital Audience Strategy from Arizona State University with the hope of advancing my career, and today I started a new job as the director of marketing and public relations for a local school district.

I said goodbye to the organization and the role I held for nine years and said hello to a new opportunity that I hope will allow me to continue to grow and serve our community. It will mean a new schedule and adjustments for everyone in our house. Fortunately, we’ve had a lot of practice.
By now, I’ve got a few tricks to help the kids cope with our seemingly-constant change:

1. Preparation– Whether it’s a variation in our schedule or a big permanent adjustment, I talk it out beforehand, especially with my 4-year-old and prepare exactly what HIS day will be like. That way, he knows what’s coming, I outline it as simply as I can, and remind him leading up to the change.
2. Promotion– Even if the news is not so great, point out the silver lining, the exciting and fun parts of the change! School is going to be on the computer, and you get to wear pjs and spend more time playing legos! Mom’s going into an office and you get to see your grandparents every afternoon!
3. Patience– During a big change, regression shouldn’t be a fear, it should be an expectation. Any backslides in behavior, even unrelated, I acknowledge as part of their emotional development and try to be as gentle as possible when correcting. I’ve found they’re usually back to their normal selves in about two weeks.

Change can be scary, even for grown-ups. I tell my kids the best adventures are a little scary at first. I’m ready to start this one.

For the last two weeks, the Olympic Games have been on in our house in the evenings as we cheer on our favorites in gymnastics, track and field, and swimming. Each one has sparked the boys’ imaginations and my level of anxiety as they launch themselves off the arms of our sofa in attempts to do “backflips” or jump into the pool over and over, calling out their dives, contorting themselves mid-air.

“Giraffe dive!” “Submarine dive!” “Windmill dive!” Followed by the predictable, “Did you see it? Did you watch me?” I give a 9.5 for creativity.

I’ll admit, I too was inspired watching Katie Ledecky swim meters ahead of her opponents. I’ve always loved swimming and decided to take it to the next level and incorporate lap swim into my workouts. Of course, that meant upgrading my goggles to something a little more Olympic.

The boys have been working on their swimming all summer and while I’ve noticed a lot of progress, nothing seemed to jumpstart such a leap as watching the best in the world compete. Even my four-year-old jumped into the pool at the start of their “freestyle race” and actually pulled off an impressive freestyle!

There’s something about the Olympics that brings a little bit of magic. The closing ceremony today will be bittersweet and this year has certainly been different. But, it always makes the world feel a little smaller; humanity a little closer, and dreams feel just within reach.

In October of 2019, we traveled back east to D.C to visit my parents and siblings. We’d visited that Spring and were planning on another trip soon, so we kept that one small and quick.

Little did we know we wouldn’t be seeing most of my family again for more than a year and a half. By the time we were able to safely travel, little B had forgotten ever meeting them, or riding on an airplane.
As soon as all of the adults were fully vaccinated, we planned a reunion at Lake Anna in Virginia. One big house, 11 adults, 5 kids, and dozens of toasted marshmallows, kayak rides, games and more. The boys caught their first fish, we had Thanksgiving dinner to make up for the one that was missed, and gave lots of hugs (although Little B is still learning to allow others into his bubble.)

What I’m most grateful for other than the good time, is that we all made it. Yes, we traveled from different parts of the country on planes, trains and automobiles to get there, but we all made it to the other side of a difficult and dangerous time, to be able to raise a toast together. We know many people who do not have the privilege of seeing their family members again. When I looked around the room that first night as we sat around one table for dinner, I counted my blessings. All 15 of them. And we raised a glass to family.

In 2011, the sun set on the Florida Gulf Coast as my rhinestone-studded sandals hit the sugar-white sand. My arm linked with my dad’s as I smiled nervously, walking toward the person I’d spend the rest of my life with. Now, a decade later, that still feels like yesterday.

We celebrated our ten year anniversary this past weekend, spending it poolside at a resort while the boys had their first sleepover with their grandparents. I’m not sure who was more excited.

In ten years, we’ve handled new jobs, moves, two kids and so much more. We’ve had amazing adventures and we’ve sat inside for nearly a year. While I’m excited to make big plans again, I think what made this decade fly by was just as much about all the little things in between.

Anyone who knows me well knows I wear sunglasses almost every time I go outside. My eyes are sensitive to the bright light and Arizona is practically the surface of the sun, so I own several pairs and keep them in my car just in case.

One morning, Drew and I switched cars so he could run an early errand. When I walked into the garage to get into his commuter car, I sighed, realizing where I’d left my sunglasses. I’d have to spend the day without them. But I opened the driver’s side door and there they were in the cup holder of his car. He’d moved them before leaving that morning.

It’s the smallest thing, moving someone’s sunglasses. But each small thought adds up to a decade of thoughtfulness. Each punchline forms a decade of laughter. Each conversation a decade of communication. For some people, it’s grand gestures and getaways, but for us, it’s the dozens of little things every day that add up over ten years, to make our marriage seem like a walk on the beach.

Many times in my career, I’ve been called a “Jack of all trades.” In my fifth year working in TV news, I spent three months doing weather forecasting, covered sports when we were short-staffed, and was asked to become a co-host for a morning talk show. It’s not that I was particularly good at any of these things, but my producer kept asking and I kept saying “why not?” The talk show gig fell in my lap for just that reason. The show’s producer said I wasn’t afraid to do anything and I didn’t embarrass easily.

Turns out, those are pretty good life skills.

When I saw that ASU offered a Masters degree in a field I wanted to learn more about and my employer offered tuition reimbursement, I said the same thing: “Why not?”

Sure, there were moments in the last year when my “why not” became a “why,” and even a “how?” But, I stuck with it. I managed my time, taking my “third shift” as student after baths and bedtime.

Last week, I graduated with my Masters in Digital Audience Strategy. Now, I can proudly say this master of none has mastered at least one thing. No, not the ever-changing field of digital marketing. I like to think I’ve mastered the art of lifelong learning. And it all starts with asking the question: Why not?

This year we celebrated our oldest boy turning 12. He’s sweet, intuitive, wise beyond his years and still loves to snuggle. He still wags his tail and jumps when I pick up his leash, and he’s never lost his homeless habit of scouring the floor for scraps and crumbs. Though we don’t know his actual birthday or even his definite age, he’s certainly a senior now, and he’s starting to show all the quirks that come with it.

At nearly 70 in dog years, Max has his humans trained more than the other way around. Every morning I wake up to him staring at me from my bedside floor, as if it’s so rude of me not to have served his breakfast yet. Drew can no longer sit on Max’s corner of the sofa, and moves aside for him to curl up in the evening. He refuses to sit anywhere else. When the boys play outside and leave the front door open, Max meanders down the driveway to make sure everything is in order, and waits patiently for someone to realize the door to his home is ajar.

Working from home during the last year has given us even more insight into the daily routine of our dog. To my amusement, he actually follows a schedule:

6:30am– wake up mom, eat breakfast
7am– add to the chaos of getting the boys dressed and ready for school
8am– bark at recycling trucks or delivery vehicles
9am– nap
10-11am– stand outside basking in the sun and meditate
Noon– nap

The remainder of the day varies between naps, supervising the small humans while they eat or play, and barking at anything suspicious.

The old dog may be unable to keep up with me on a run, but he still keeps us on our toes. He’s our oldest boy, and the goodest boy.

A year ago, we were spending the weekend at an outdoor festival and the railroad park in Scottsdale, surrounded by crowds of people, calendar full of baseball games and birthday parties, looking forward to a week-long spring break. Little did we know my son had already spent his last day in his kindergarten classroom, he’d outgrow his little league uniform before wearing it more than once, and our whole world was about to change.

Now, my kids wear masks when they pretend they’re going to wizarding school, because to them it’s just another school supply. They got a new art kit and mistook the glue for hand sanitizer because the clear liquid looks the same and that’s become a more common household item. My first-grader knows when his classmates’ grandparents are getting their vaccines because that’s what they talk about during lunch at school.

Last March, we cancelled visits with family and postponed all travel plans. We stocked up on toilet paper and canned food, preparing for a potential lockdown that became reality. We entered the unknown. We didn’t know when it would end.

Now, one year later, hope is on the horizon. We are making plans to travel again. All of my family members back east have been vaccinated, the first of which was my mom, a healthcare worker who we haven’t seen in person in a year and a half.

Now, she’s spending spring break with her grandchildren.