I had my first eye exam in more than a decade this week. I’ve noticed my vision getting less and less clear, even given the permanent damage left by this rare pregnancy side effect. As it turns out, the changes I’m noticing are a different side effect. Of turning forty. And even though I’m getting older, I’m not seeing double. But sometimes it seems that I am.
When the boys went back to school this week and I posted this photo, several of my friends reacted. “They still let you dress them alike?” “Their matching outfits are so cute!” “I can’t believe they’ll still dress to match!”
The truth is they do, they are, and they will. Because they don’t really care.
While most of the reactions are positive when friends see my boys dressed in matching outfits on vacation or for special occasions or just at the pool, it now comes with a tone of surprise and disbelief, as if it’s something they should’ve grown out of already.
And maybe they should have, and I get not everyone thinks it’s as cute as I do. But it still makes me smile, and it’s practical. It helps me keep track of them in crowded public places because I only have to remember one shirt color. If one gets lost and I need to ask for help, I can point to the one standing nearby and say, “like him, only taller.” 😆
I had actually expected a day to come when Big Bro said stop, or declined matching little b. So far, little b still likes to look like his big brother. And Big Bro pays as much attention to his attire as he does to the ketchup on his shirt, which is none at all. The first two articles of clothing his hand hits when he opens a drawer are the ones he puts on in the morning. Sometimes, it’s pretty obvious.
As I took that photo to document their first day, I realized it’s the last little shark shirt for Big Bro. Next year, he’ll move up to middle school. Who will little b dress to match then?
Just before the end of the school year, a coworker suggested we print custom summer workbooks to give out to our students. Working in the communications department of a school district, I posed a few follow-up questions to weigh the costs and benefits, asking- “how many people do you think would use them?”
He explained his children’s summer routine of waking up and having workbook time at the kitchen table before reading and then playing. In a later meeting, several other coworkers, all educators, confirmed their children did summer work too. There I was, feeling like a terrible parent. My kids’ summer routine consists of tearing apart the house, lots of swimming, Lego building, traveling, and no structure. I didn’t get the workbook memo. We were supposed to be doing workbooks this whole time?! My son is entering sixth grade, we missed six YEARS of workbooks!
But this week on our vacation to Yellowstone National Park, I realized maybe I was a workbook mom all along.
Every time we visit a National Park, the boys do their Junior Ranger workbooks and earn the Junior Ranger badge for that park. They just earned two more this week for Yellowstone and Grand Teton, where they explored active geysers and hot springs, swam in a lake carved by glaciers, and spotted bears, bison, and other wildlife in their natural habitat. This amazing free program sparks curiosity in our kids and allows them to put what they’re experiencing into context, with activities about history, conservation and the natural world. On one of our hikes, Little Bro chatted nonstop about bison and bears, citing how much weight a bison could move, what bears ate during different seasons, how long they hibernated, and more.
So yeah, I guess I am a workbook mom. It’s not a kitchen table. It’s a little wilder than that, and there’s still no structure. But I think they learned a lot this summer just the same.
Another school year is coming to an end and as we navigate the “Maycember” scramble of projects, concerts, spirit weeks and field days, I can’t help but marvel at the growth I’ve seen in our boys this year both academically and socially. Working for their school district has allowed me the opportunity to attend school day events and help provide more for their classrooms. It’s also opened an unexpected opportunity.
Big Bro quickly discovered that I’m on the same network and email system. I started to get email notifications for his shared documents, presentations, even a prototype for a website. Sometimes it’s work he’s doing on a school report or essay, but often times it’s a powerpoint quiz show or presentation on Pokemon. It’s a sort of “look at me mom!” During the middle of my workday, and it always makes me smile.
When I ask what he’s supposed to be doing while generating this content during the school day, he shrugs and says he finished his work. The latest notification revealed a four-chapter portion of a Wings of Fire fan fiction novel he’s working on. So long as he keeps excelling in all of his subjects, I don’t mind one bit.
Next week, it will be summer and I’ll be poolside while hearing “look at me mom!” for all their dives and tricks. I’ll answer the call anytime of year. It really is the best view.
Big smiles during the fifth grade Wax Museum event, in which Big Bro presented Ken Griffey Jr
Today, I celebrate forty years on this planet. FORTY. It still sounds so weird in my head. I can’t be forty. My mom is still forty. Right? I’m shocked at how quickly the last decade has gone by, but I guess that’s how it goes when you’re having fun.
There’s a trend going around social media in which users write about meeting their younger self for coffee. I figured now would be a great time to try the exercise in self-reflection as I look back on what’s changed or stayed the same as I celebrate forty.
I met my younger self for coffee. She walked in wearing a ponytail and jeans, effortlessly and obliviously pretty with almost no makeup, and ordered a grande white mocha with extra syrup. I ordered a cold brew with cold foam.
She asks if I’ve been waiting long, rushing to apologize and I stop her right there. “You’ll learn to say thank you instead of I’m sorry,” I say. She tells me about her college courses in broadcast journalism and balancing her honors classes, clubs, and internship. She’s worried about getting perfect grades. I tell her she’s a lot smarter than she thinks, and she’ll get a Masters one day. She wonders how to balance it all, and I tell her it’ll be hard but she’ll end up learning to balance even more.
She asks if I live at the beach. I tell her I did, but then moved to the desert. She smiles and nods, pretending to be pleased while I know she never imagined leaving the East Coast. I tell her it’s where I live with my husband and two kids. Her smile turns genuine. She hesitates, looking down before asking, “Are you on tv? Did you make it? Did you become a reporter?”
“I did. But I’m not anymore. It was so exciting and fun, but then my dream changed,” I say. I tell her she’ll fall in love with the desert but she’ll continue to travel frequently. I tell her she’ll stop worrying so much about pleasing everyone around her. She’ll get comfortable with change, chaos, and failure. That they’ll lead to her greatest opportunities. She’ll change careers a few times on her own terms but she’ll stay in communications. She will never stop writing.
We finish our coffee and she pulls out her flip phone to look at the time, quickly closing it without a second thought. My phone is still sitting face down on the table and I find myself longing for the simplicity of that pink Motorola Razr only capable of making calls and taking photos with .3 megapixels. Before she leaves, she aks one more question. “Do you have any advise?”
I smile, and the wrinkles around my eyes get deeper. “Slow down when you can, and enjoy it,” I say. “Time only seems to get faster.”
In the year and a half since losing our beloved dog Max, I can’t count how many times I’ve said “I want my dog back.” I’ve lost track of how many dreams I’ve had where he’s back at home and I’ve woken up confused in a quiet house as it sinks in again. How many moments I sat on the sofa thinking how nice it would be to have a furry friend curled beside me. But at the same time, even when the kids asked for a cat or dog, we didn’t feel ready.
I started to look at other ways we could enjoy a dog without adopting one. I looked at local rescue volunteer opportunities or fostering. Big B has wanted to be an animal trainer for the last several years, and I wanted to encourage that dream. When I saw an opportunity to read to therapy dogs at the library, I told him and he jumped at the chance. That turned out to be just the beginning.
“Can we get a German Shepard?” “No.” “Can we get a dog?” “Not right now.” “What about tomorrow?”
That became a constant dialogue during car rides and around the house. I’d opened a door that couldn’t be closed. One evening I gave in, and we looked up the animal shelter website. That’s when we saw him- Domino. An adorable, black and while labradoodle that was turned in the previous evening. We decided to go take a trip to the shelter the next day when it opened if Domino was still there, as I prefaced this promise with realism and the likelihood that he’d be adopted right away. The next day, we discovered I was right, and Domino was gone. Big B sobbed through lunch, disappointment dampening his mood and dashing his hopes.
The floodgates were open. The rest of the week was spent looking up rescues, reaching out to schedule visits, only to discover dogs adopted before we could meet. The boys were disappointed over and over, and I started thinking it was a sign it just wasn’t meant to be. Then we saw Bruno. Bruno was a tan labradoodle mix at the Arizona Small Dog Rescue in Tempe. Most of the dogs were offsite at an adoption event, so I called to ask about Bruno, who as it turned out was at the rescue facility instead of the event that day. After some debate and persuasion, we got dad on board and drove to the rescue. When I walked in, I saw Bruno right at the door… and the family that was signing his adoption paperwork.
Big B looked at the rescue volunteer with pleading eyes and said, “do you have any other dogs?”
They had one. He had been found wandering the street with a phone cord wrapped around his neck and turned into the rescue 10 days prior- an 11-month-old border terrier mix. They brought us into a grassy area and let him in to meet us. As soon as I saw him I thought, that’s my dog.
He wandered the perimeter, scoping out the environment, and then ran up to the boys with light in his eyes that seemed to say “My boys!” We played and discussed and debated and deliberated. Eventually, we decided to take him home. I knew from the beginning I wasn’t leaving without the dog, but I thought it would be nice to let everyone feel involved.
On the ride home, we brainstormed names while he rode in my lap. The boys rejected my idea of naming him Landline, a nod to his origin story. They agreed on Chewy, and we got him a Star Wars collar. In the months since he came home with us, he’s lived up to his name in the sense that he still puppy chews everything and everyone, and he’s as excitable and lovable as a wookie.
Chewy loves to dig and fetch toys and bury things in the yard. He hated the crate and sleeps fine in his bed. He lays out in the sun and chases birds. He barks at his reflection. He learns tricks and solves puzzles quickly.
We’ve seen so many similarities between Chewy and Max, that I can only assume our old Schnauzer mix’s terrier breed must have been Border Terrier. But I like to think maybe he just wanted another go around.
The boys jumped into ages 8 and 11 while celebrating with their friends at a trampoline park. When Big Bro woke up Saturday morning, I grabbed the tape measure and gasped when I marked his current height. He grew two inches in the last six months.
Little bro isn’t so little anymore either. At eight and eleven, I feel like we truly have two big kids now. Little b will head into third grade at the end of summer, and Big Bro will be going into his last year of elementary school. Being a big kid comes with more independence, more responsibility, more homework, but also more confidence. The boys were in their element jumping around with the friends, telling jokes while eating pizza, and opening gifts with excitement. It’s fun to watch each one of them grow together.
While they are big kids now, the kid part definitely remains, and I will keep it that way as long as I can. They spent the day after their party building their new lego sets, playing with action figures and pokemon cards. I don’t mind that we have a house that’s flooded with toys. I know the boxes will get smaller all too soon.
At age 11, Big Bro is kind, empathetic, creative, decisive, athletic, fun, and a great big brother. He’s finding his voice through leadership at school. He writes stories and makes his own games. His imagination knows no bounds.
At age eight, Little bro is funny, determined, curious, brave, creative, and bright. He draws cartoon illustrations on all of his spelling tests. He builds elaborate lego creations without instructions. He can’t resist a fart joke.
They both love dinosaurs, pokemon, roller blading, and swimming. They dislike bedtime and running errands.
This past summer during a trip back East, we detoured to Connecticut to visit with Grammy, who at the time was no longer healthy enough to join us on our summer vacations like she used to. Setting aside time to visit her at home on the Long Island Sound added the blessing of being able to show the boys one of my favorite places. I’d grown up visiting the house on the water every year, riding in a motor boat or rowboat and learning how to fish with my Papa, eating at our favorite local seafood place, swimming and jumping off the dock, sitting on the deck with Grammy watching the birds.
I took the boys down the path to the beach nearby. We took Grammy to that same seafood place and I had the best lobster bisque of my life. The next morning, we took Grammy to the local aquarium, bigger and better than what I’d remembered from when I was a kid. Big bro pushed her wheelchair and we took in each exhibit, chatting about sea life the whole time. She was tired but smiling when we got home.
That was the last time we saw her. Six months later, she is gone.
Before our trip, we’d debated the five-hour detour through New York City and D.C, with the logistics of booking one-way flights through two cities, riding a train or renting a car, toting luggage and the kids all the while. We decided the kids are great travelers, prayed for light traffic and did it despite the inconvenience. It was the right choice. One I’m sure will stay with us for the rest of our lives, hopefully reminding the boys someday how important it is to take the detour.
This year in particular, little bro is excited for all things Christmas. The morning after Thanksgiving he jumped into our bed, jostling us awake while asking, “can we put up the tree now?” It was 7am.
After I had my coffee I was ready to take the decorations down from their shelf in the garage and change our usual routine of doing the outdoors first, to grant him his wish of putting up the tree immediately. This year was the first time the boys put up nearly all the ornaments themselves, including the porcelain Precious Moments birth year ornament I’ve hung up for roughly 39 years. (It’s fine. Definitely not a big deal. I did not take it down and put it back up after they were asleep.) They were so excited when they got going they just didn’t stop.
The boys have already watched Home Alone, Charlie Brown Christmas and The Grinch, and little bro is still begging for more Christmas movies each night. He brought out all of his Christmas books for me to read before bed, choosing a couple a night and snuggling in fleece Christmas Jammies even though it’s 75 and sunny each day.
This weekend, after we went Christmas shopping, he asked to help me wrap gifts. As I taught him how to measure and cut the paper and fold the ends, he focused hard, trying to smooth it out the best he could. He addressed them and signed his name in his best cursive. He asked for more until I ran out of boxes to wrap.
It’s pretty great having a little Christmas elf around. This truly is one of the best times of year to be a parent despite the to-do lists, busy nights and spirit days at school. Seeing the magic of Christmas come alive through their eyes fills me with renewed joy for the season I’ve always loved. I’ll watch all the movies, drink the cocoa, read the stories, and sing the carols. And hey, it looks like I won’t need to wrap any gifts!
Having our boys three years apart (almost to the day) has been beneficial in so many ways. They have a close relationship as brothers, they can build forts, play with dinosaurs, conduct science experiments, and so much more for hours on end. They wake up early just to read books side by side or get a head start on their newest lego creation. Just yesterday, while we were sleeping in, we overheard Big B asking little b what kind of eggs he wanted as they walked to the kitchen and Big B proudly announced he could cook an over easy egg. I heard the pan on the burner and decided it was definitely time to get out of bed.
Some days, they pass the time without any intervention at all, begging to stay up late and continue playing. Other days, I feel like a referee. For a WWE fight. The other benefit to the boys being three years apart- they’re almost in the same weight class. Factor in little b’s scrappiness and they’re a pretty even match.
This weekend, as I walked into the playroom to break up their third argument of the day, I noticed our framed poster depicting Mindful Habits was in pieces. I picked it up, asking what happened. Of course, both chimed in at the same time, blaming the other one for the broken frame. Before I could figure out the answer, the glass from the frame slid out of my hand and shattered all over the floor. I sighed and got them both out safely so I could clean up. Then, I laughed at the irony of our mindfulness poster getting shattered all over the place. I went to throw it out but Drew told me to keep the frame’s contents and hang it back up.
Earlier this year, I decided to set a long-term travel goal. Now, I’m on a mission to visit all 50 states by the time I turn 50. So far, I’ve visited the states marked green on this map, and after our Fall Break trip to Idaho last week, I’ve only got 20 left.
Between my upbringing on the East coast with family to visit in New England, West Virginia and Indiana, along with my move down to Florida and then across the country to the desert, I’ve covered a lot of ground so far. I love spending time in major cities and discovering the different activities, cultures, natural wonders, and people that each region has to offer. With the vast majority of the coastlines checked off my bucket list, I’m down to what some of us call “flyover country,” but I suspect it holds just as much to discover as the rest of our nation.
This fall break, we met the grandparents in Boise, Idaho, for no other reason than we’ve never been to Idaho before and the weather’s beautiful this time of year. We discovered delicious food, (potatoes of course!) family fun on the farm, outdoor art displays, and one of my favorite hidden gems- The Peregrine Fund headquarters, where we witnessed birds of prey and met the groups of people who brought the famous falcon species back from the brink of extinction.
As I scrutinize the map to plan out my next adventures, aiming to cover two states a year for the next decade, I’m excited thinking about what else we can find. It’s a big, bright, colorful country, and I’m going to see it all!
Our Life in A-Z 