I’m going to start by saying I know I have a whole lot to be thankful for, and I am. My husband and I both have government jobs so we’re not worried about this pandemic destroying our ability to pay our mortgage. Our children are happy and healthy and excelling in school, so we’re not worried about them falling behind without an education for a month. We are generally optimistic people, we are resourceful and resilient, and we go with the flow.

But last week, that flow became a river full of rapids, pounding us with waves as we sought to navigate a new normal for everyone in our lives and everything that we do. We’re still clinging on to the rocks of our old routine, desperate to pretend that everything is okay. That normalcy still exists.

I’m tethered to my phone 24/7 whether it’s crisis communications at work or updates on social media or CNN to get the latest information on how many cases, distance learning resources, quippy memes about life in quarantine. I appreciate the positivity and the inspiration, but yesterday I woke up hungry for breakfast and couldn’t bring myself to take a bite, suddenly no appetite. As moms, we don’t have a choice but to slap on a smile and keep it light for our kids, minimizing their anxiety about the unknown. Hiding ours. From every direction I hear chin up, look on the bright side, find the good. 

Let me be sad. I need to be sad for just a little bit. And, I think that’s okay. A lot of people have skipped to best coping mechanisms and trudging ahead fearlessly, never grieving for what we are losing. I’m usually the first to compartmentalize and move on but in this case, I am giving myself permission to grieve for a moment.

I’m sad that my son’s Little League season never started, and he’s been in our backyard, running around an imaginary field. I’m sad that his kindergarten class is a Facebook group, and his two full-time work-from-home parents are not equal compensation for a classroom. I’m sad that we’ve had to cancel visits from family members who live 2 thousand miles away and I don’t know when I will be able to hug them again. I’m scared for my parents and grandparents that I’m begging to stay home. I’m sad for my dad who was so close to getting the kidney he’s been waiting on for years. I’m worried for my mom who is piecing together lab equipment without a mask and running the viral tests required for a pandemic of this scale. I’m scared that we’re a long way from the worst of it. I’m scared that this will rob my boys of a normal childhood. I’m sad for the thousands of souls lost that I can feel in my bones. I’m angry that it’s happening at all. 

Last week, we had pouring rain as if the sky opened up to tell us how it really feels. My husband set up a an indoor movie theater for the boys. They watched Frozen II while we worked long hours- him for ASU’s online department as the entire student population moves online. Me, for a municipal communications department, updating every closure and CDC recommendation for our public. I heard the words of Princess Anna echo through the house. “I’ll take a step, and step again. And do the next right thing.”

And I will. I’ll put my chin up and take a bite. I’ll trudge ahead. But for now, just for a minute, let me be sad.

It’s been six years since I became a mom and three years since we became a family of four. The boys celebrated their birthdays this weekend with a Lego party complete with Lego building table, a bounce-house and dozens of toddlers and kindergartners running around having fun and eating sugar.

At age six, Big Bro stands nearly four feet tall. He is smart, kind, adventurous and a great big brother. He loves running, playing on the playground, playing with his friends, going to school, reading, all things Lego and Ninjago, and so much more. He dislikes bedtime and homework. 

At age three and 38 inches tall, Baby Bro isn’t much of a baby anymore. He is sweet, clever, funny and a snugglebug. He likes running around, playing with his brother, painting, playing with trains, listening to stories, and telling jokes. He dislikes bedtime, brushing his teeth, and sharing his toys.

It’s been such a joy watching these two grow bigger and closer. Having a two-year-old and five-year-old wasn’t without its challenges, and I’m sure we’ll encounter more as Baby Bro becomes a “threenager.” Drew and I talk about six and three in our very first Our Life in A-Z podcast episode:

There’s no question about the beauty of Arizona, with its purple mountains, spectacular sunsets, towering cacti, red rock formations and more. But perhaps the most overlooked Arizona beauty is the winter wonderland that is the northern part of the state- mountainous and pine-topped, snowy and frigid, and just a three-hour drive from our home.

We rented a cabin with family the weekend after Christmas and drove up with impeccable timing to spend three days in nearly two feet of snow. It was a fun-filled weekend of hot cocoa, board games, snowball fights, igloos and sledding hills. The big kids (Big Bro and his older cousins) could spend hours in the snow, and for me it all came back in a flash from my northern Virginia roots and a childhood of snow days.

For Baby Bro, the snow held its novelty for one day and quickly wore off. The next day, he was content to remain inside the cabin eating snacks and hanging with his grandparents after he refused to put on not one, not two, but all three pairs of shoes we brought for him on the trip. I’m all for natural consequences and I’m a tough mama, but I fall short of letting my two-year-old desert baby explore the snow in bare feet. I can handle the cold but frostbite is way beyond my wheelhouse. He was happy to kick back with candy canes while we played outside, so it was all good once I gave up on selling “winter” to my toddler. He just wasn’t buying it.

In the meantime, big bro was sold. By the third day, I practically had to drag him off a sledding hill as he asked if we could come back next year. I have to admit I was happy to hear those words.

One of the things I used to love about my hometown was that we got all four seasons. I enjoyed snow in the winter, flowers in the spring, hot, sticky summers and crunchy colorful autumn leaves. I’ve been away for more than a decade now, but that’s still the thing I miss most. Being able to experience four seasons gives the year so much more flavor.

Northern Arizona’s winter wonderland looks like a storybook, but the real beauty is in the magic of that forth day at the cabin. After breakfast we packed our things, dug out the car, and drove three hours back to a sixty-degree sunny day. I love to experience the seasons, but I love our sun even more. We don’t have to spend months shoveling or scraping ice or stepping in slush. We can just enjoy an Arizona snow day.

As if a mom’s plate weren’t full enough, the second we start dishing out those Thanksgiving leftovers, our heads start spinning. The mental load many moms take on full of children’s doctors appointments, play dates, household chores, meal plans and a career, is already as full as Santa’s sleigh on a snowy winter night, but we tend to find room for even more, throwing that sack over our shoulder to spread cheer.

This time of year brings more of everything. More joy, more moments made into lasting memories, more events on the calendar, more harsh weather, more money out of the household budget, more time management and more stress.

It can be overwhelming and daunting to be this full. So, this time of year it’s especially important to take a look around and simplify. Get off Pinterest and do it all your way. Forget the formality of the holiday pictures you pictured, when your two-year-old is throwing a tantrum. Keep the breakable ornaments in the box for another season. Buy the pie instead of making it yourself. Shop online. Whatever you need to do, if it’s not fun it’s not worth it. “For the sake of tradition” isn’t a good enough reason to stress. I’ve learned some of these lessons through experience and I’m still learning.

My memories aren’t made of plastic toys or Christmas card photos. They’re snuggling together with a book in warm pjs. Decorating cookies without worrying if they’re picture perfect. Walking around the neighborhood looking at lights.

So this holiday season, take a load off. Enjoy the simplicity- the moments you’ll remember.

In Arizona, the grass doesn’t just grow. It takes elaborate underground irrigation systems, timers, and a lot of effort. Every winter the grass goes dormant, but if we want to enjoy our best weather on our lawn we need to plant winter grass, which involves cutting everything down to the dirt and seeding, topsoiling, and watering until we start seeing some green about a week later. In the past, Drew and I have paid a landscaper to seed our winter grass, but this year we looked around and said, “how hard could it be?”

Turns out, very hard. Drew started working on the yard at 9am and I helped as much as I could. We took turns weed-wacking down to the dirt while he seeded and raked topsoil. It took 3 trips to Lowe’s, seven hours, and about $50 more than we’d have spent on a professional, but it’s done. Two weeks later, the grass looks amazing, and it’s not the only thing getting taller around here.

The boys are both growing so quickly that I’m clutching to my Costco card in shock! Just the other day, Big Bro had a waffle, fruit and two bowls of cereal for breakfast before asking for a snack on the way to school. They eat around the clock and Baby Bro has already outgrown the cute dinosaur shoes I bought them a month ago. While it’s great to watch them get bigger, growth spurts also come with irritability, sleep interruption, and even growing pains for Big Bro, who has woken up complaining about his legs.

The silver lining is that Baby Bro can now fit into his brother’s old Vans. When I brought those adorable shoes out of storage and got to see them run and jump through the house again it made me smile. I hope they fit him for at least a few months.

Just in case you’re wondering how school is going, Big Bro brought home a 3-day spelling homework exercise with vague instructions that I later figured out I’d completely misinterpreted. In the same week, I aced my first two marketing quizzes for grad school. So, that’s where I am in my life. Passing grad classes while failing kindergarten.

When I embarked on this master’s degree adventure, I didn’t quite calculate the step I’d be taking into my ever-changing role of mom, as my son started school at the same time. Kindergarten has changed. There are assignments and folders and notebooks to remember. A big part of being a parent is also being a teacher, but for some reason I didn’t picture myself sitting at the kitchen table supervising my son writing words that rhyme with “cat” quite so soon. All I remembered about my kindergarten experience was coloring and recess.

A lot of people compare weeknights to the “second shift” for parents who work full time. When I registered for online classes, I didn’t think of it as a third shift, but as soon as they started I realized what I’d done. I work, come home and we eat dinner, play for a bit or do bath time, make sure homework is done and stories are read and songs are sung. Then, I turn on my laptop and study. The next morning I pack snacks and water bottles, Drew takes the kids to school and we do it all over again.

Before we knew it, fall break had arrived. A cross-country trip packed with fun filled activities, lots of family and friends, and a wedding in Sedona may sound like a pretty busy “break,” but I wouldn’t have it any other way. At this point, busy is kind of my specialty.

Back when Baby Bro wasn’t quite old enough to play, we heard endless tales of Happy Spider and his adventures. Big Bro’s spider showed up a couple years ago on a Sunday morning. Drew and I looked around nervously at first, before realizing that Happy Spider wasn’t the kind of spider that we could see, even though he was allegedly black with skinny legs and about the size of a 3-year-old’s hand.

Happy spider lived in the closet with his mom, dad, and baby brother. He was a pilot, a student, and for some reason he took a lot of vacations. Sometimes I overheard one-sided conversations with him while Big Bro played in his room. Sometimes he joined us on our outings. Sometimes when I asked about him, it turned out to be a silly thing to ask because of course he was off in San Diego, flying his plane.

I pictured Happy Spider with a tiny suitcase and maybe a pair of aviators. His house was real, we made it out of foam pieces and placed it on a shelf in the closet. He even had a tiny desk at my office, as my coworkers played along. I loved hearing all about Happy Spider, but I haven’t heard anything about him lately. In fact, he hasn’t been a topic of conversation for about six months.

I can only assume that Happy Spider, being a spider after all, met his fate after a long and exciting spider life. If it was a case of foul play, I would suspect Baby Bro. Happy Spider’s disappearance around the same time Baby Bro started to play independently with his older brother was no coincidence.

Either way, there seem to be no hard feelings of loss or grief at the absence of Happy Spider in our home. If anything, Drew is probably relieved.

I guess when it comes to playmates, not even an invisible spider can measure up to the love and friendship of a brother. Rest in Peace, Happy Spider. You’re with Bing Bong now.

Six months ago I had a preschooler and a toddler. Now, I have a kindergartner and a preschooler!

Baby Bro is now two and a half, and His Big Bro is five and a half. School started last week and I can’t believe how much they’ve grown and changed in just six months.

Big Bro went from training wheels to daredevil wheelies, from reading three letter words to finishing books, from simple LEGO structures to entire cities with imaginary storylines. He is a creative, confident, bright little boy with a sense of adventure and the kindest heart.

Baby Bro went from speaking in short sentences to complex conversations, from walking and running to dancing and jumping, from sweet smiles to soliciting laughs. He is an adorable, intelligent, curious little guy with a killer sense of humor and the sweetest disposition.

At 5 1/2, Big Bro loves soccer, school, cooking, pretend play, and much more. He wants to be a teacher when he grows up. He dislikes cleaning up his toys (although he loves doing dishes) and bedtime.

At 2 1/2, Baby Bro likes trains, planes, cars, music, poop jokes, and eating snacks. His big Bro is his hero. He dislikes naps, bugs, and baths that are too cold or too hot.