Change

Next Chapter

Posted on by Lauren

Lately, I’ve experienced a growing sense of dissatisfaction. 

In time, I’ve come to realize it’s directly related to the challenges associated with raising children.

I’ve spent the past 15 years pouring into my daughters. 

Emmett and I filled out that initial diaper/feeding chart with such detail, left breast/right breast xx number of minutes, our pediatrician laughed out loud when we proudly handed it over at Aurora’s first office visit. 

We attended over 70 hours of parenting and childbirth classes. We weren’t just going to be parents. We were going to be amazing parents. 

Fast forward fifteen years and four children. I feel like, somehow, in my intention to get it all right, I’ve gotten it all wrong. 

My mom worked and traveled, missing a lot of my childhood along the way. I vowed to do it differently so I quit my job and stayed home- signing up for every library, music and mommy-and-me art class available. I had memberships to the zoo, aquarium and museum and took our girls regularly. I faithfully joined a stroller strides exercise class so that not only could I remain healthy, but I could do it with my children, modeling for them what it means to take care of yourself, while still mothering. 

I created “The Gift of Time” for my girls. Handwriting 48 envelopes, one for each month for each girl with an activity they could choose to do with just mom or dad, no sisters to ensure they felt seen and appreciated as an individual. 

I didn’t just throw birthday parties- I threw over-the-top themed birthday parties with creative games and decor. I took them on special trips out of town- just one-on-one with mom to spend quality time and create lasting memories. 

And I LOVED it. I loved planning those parties and trips and spending time in class with them. I shared with them my love of reading and writing, nature and adventure, reveling in the wonder of it all. 

And yet, here I am. They are 8, 10, 12 and 14 and the magic of parenting is dissipating. 

I’ve come to the awful realization that in my attempt to heal myself, I poured into my children. 

And guess what? 

Spoiler alert: they are human. 

They are not just some extension of me and Emmett but a whole new individual with their own strengths, weaknesses, and ideas. 

When they talk back to me, I’m so hurt and offended. All I see is the little girl whose hand I held as we browsed books along the library shelves. Meanwhile, they are just testing boundaries and setting their own.

They don’t remember the mommy-and-me art classes or hours spent in the swing as my arm nearly fell off from pushing. They are fully living in the here and now with very minimal ability to reflect on and appreciate the idyllic childhood Emmett and I have provided them.

I now recognize that although it’s still my responsibility to nurture and care for these beautiful children, it’s essential that I not neglect nurture and care for myself. 

I do believe that each and every human is blessed with unique, God-given gifts. It’s our job to tap into those gifts and share them with the world. 

And while I think each of my daughters is spectacular in their own, amazing way, I know that is not my only contribution to the greater world (nor would they ever want the weight of that expectation!). 

My girls are growing. 

The reality is, they don’t need me like they used to. 

And before our nest empties, I need to take the time to figure out what’s next for me and for us, as a couple. 

Of course, that takes thought and time that I do not readily have available (going on 27 interruptions as I write this article). 

But perhaps the simple act of awareness is a start. 

It’s the knowing that there’s more to this story. 

New Leaf Parenting. 

Every day is a fresh start. 

Here’s to the next chapter. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

40s

Posted on by Lauren

Your 40s are weird, man. 

Everyone is busy and what consumes each person is different. 

Some of your friends are juggling working full time with raising a family while others are working part time while also caring for their ailing parents. Mix and match, as you will. 

The friends your kids had in elementary school may no longer still be their friends in middle or high school so the friendships you forged with the parents isn’t as easily accessible as it used to be. 

All the while your coping with an identity crisis. Who am I outside of parenthood? Do I still identify with the person I was before? If not, how have I changed and where does that put me now?

Moreover, how do I even make new friends or properly maintain the ones I’ve had for years?

Where do I want to go and how do I get there?

Is who I am becoming the person I am most proud to be? If not, how to pivot?

I find myself constantly reassessing my current state, challenging myself to evaluate whether I’m on the right path. 

What I do know for sure is the importance of authenticity, particularly in the face of an ever growing artificial world. 

I’m in this weird grey area (which I always hate) but I’ve been here before and know that it’s simply a temporary transition space for what’s next. 

I’m approaching the 10th anniversary of this New Leaf Parenting blog so I guess I’ll continue to do what I’ve always done to process: I write. 

18 Months

Posted on by Lauren

Today marks 18 months of sobriety for me.

It’s a day like any other because I truly do not think about alcohol anymore.

The hardest part of getting sober was admitting to myself that I had a problem. I had been hiding for so long, I was terrified to look into the mirror.

Once I admitted I had a problem and made the decision to stop allowing alcohol to poison my life, the rest was easy.

My initial greatest concerns were:

  1. Would I be able to write anymore, without alcohol loosening my filters?
  2. Would I be able to enjoy socializing without alcohol?
  3. Would I be tempted by alcohol, while others openly drank in front of me?

The answers to these questions are

  1. Yes. I’m prouder of my writing now than then.
  2. Yes. There are so many incredible options such as N.A. Blue Moon and Mingle cocktails. Honestly, I rarely drink them and am good with 1 maybe 2 of them. The lack of alcohol removes the need to drink more.
  3. Not at all. My relationship with alcohol is separate from anyone else’s. My experience is not theirs. I simply do not want it. I don’t want to return to where I was. It doesn’t bother me one bit when others drink in front of me.

I share my experience not because I feel the need to keep myself accountable. I don’t need that kind of pressure in my life.

Instead, I share because the brave soul, Ryan Boyce, shared his sober testimony and it changed my life. If my share inspires you to change yours, then it’s worth recognizing this milestone.

The holidays can be equally full of magic and heartache.

Remember this: you are not alone. There is light.

 And my hand is right here to grab, if you need it.

Cheers, everyone and thanks for the support and love along the way.

I send it right back to you.

See

Posted on by Lauren

“Want me to come in with you?” I asked, reassuringly. 

A small smile crept into the corner of her mouth. 

“No, mom. I got it.”

I watched from the driver’s seat as she walked into the store, turning one last time to look at me.

I settled into my seat, head against the headrest and smiled. 

This was it. My first baby is growing up, reassuring me along the way that I’ve done my job. I’ve walked beside her, leading by example, showing her the ropes of life. 

And now, she’s confident enough to take a stab at it on her own, knowing full-well I’m nearby if needed. 

There’s no one at the counter.

There never is. Just find someone who works there and ask them.

I can’t find anyone. Can you come in? . . .wait, nvm. 

She walked back through those double doors, holding the bag up to prove her mission had been successful. 

“See?” She said, climbing back into the passenger’s seat. 

Yes, my darling. 

I see you. 

And I couldn’t be prouder. 

Flight

Posted on by Lauren

You know what is remarkable about a woman in her forties?

She’s tired. 

She is so tired.

She’s tired of the double standards, the “balancing”. 

She’s tired of the thankless, silent work of carrying “the load”. 

It’s liberating. 

Because she’s done. 

She can’t carry it any longer. 

So, like a snake shedding its skin,

A moose dropping its antlers, 

She lets go. 

She’s so light now, free from that heavy load. 

She says goodbye to relationships and friendships that no longer serve her,

And welcomes only those who celebrate her light into her inner circle. 

It’s a little foreign, 

This new shape she has become. 

But she settles into the discomfort, knowing full-well it is part of her growth. 

Her becoming. 

She’s remarkable, 

As she takes flight. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

The Next Chapter

Posted on by Lauren

At 88 and 93 years old, this moment has been building for decades and yet much like the arrival of a newborn, I still feel wholly unprepared. 

While Emmett’s dad passed away shortly after our eldest was born, his mother has remained a steadfast presence in our family’s life. 

Home to the great pecan tree where our girls picked up its bountiful offering numbering in the thousands, Fairfield, NC was our family’s escape from the rat race of city life. Fairfield was where we spent every Easter and Thanksgiving. Offering its wide-open spaces and clear, starry skies filled with the ever-present sounds of migratory birds, frogs and the wind, Fairfield felt like home.

Home to the pool, where my dad taught me how-to-swim, my father’s top-floor condo overlooking Towne Point Park and the Elizabeth River, offered expansive views. A docent at the Chrysler Museum for years, my dad’s walls were covered in beautiful and valuable art and yet; the girls cartwheeled through the living room as if it were home.

My dad moved into a long-term care last month and this month, my mother-in-law moves into a nearby senior community providing us the opportunity to see them more often. 

Emmett and I are a decade apart and yet here we both are; cleaning out his mom and my dad’s home. Discovering old photographs and letters. Claiming furniture and special mementos. 

Saying goodbye. 

Saying thank you. 

It’s the end of an era. 

It’s the beginning of the next chapter. 

BOB

Posted on by Lauren

Lost amidst the busyness of our everyday lives, it came and went as suddenly and normally as weekly groceries, this event I had so built-up in my mind. 

For over 13 years, our BOB stroller occupied precious space in our garage. It’s role and value not to be underestimated. 

It carried our first, second, third and last-born. 

To the park, across the beach, along rugged, rocky trails in Maine, Costa Rica and the Carolinas. This stroller has rolled through airports, water parks and Disney World. Her wheels have traversed through rain, mud, snow and sand and although one daughter, along the way, bucked through the straps breaking them for good, our stroller safely contained each child.

From an infant in Stroller Strides for eight incredible years to an 8 year old’s backpack hitching a ride to-and-from the walking zone of our elementary school, our stroller has never failed us. 

And just like that, she was claimed by a new family and gone, yesterday. 

She honorably and dutifully served us and now, she rolls on with new rear ends to hold and sidewalks to explore. 

We thank her for her loyalty and service and wish her light loads and a gentle retirement. 

BOB, you will forever have our hearts. 

Work-in-Progress

Posted on by Lauren

Anyone else listening to “The Let Them Theory” by Mel Robbins right now?

It’s been nothing short of validating and eye-opening and I haven’t even finished.

I’ve learned a lot.

The greatest lesson is the acceptance that I am, that we all are, a living work-in-progress. 

Although I wish this book had been available to me years ago, I’m so grateful to read it now. 

I’ve done a lot of work with a therapist healing sore wounds but absorbing the lessons in this book feels like starting fresh.

As Mel says, “Let me”.

Choice

Posted on by Lauren

I spent the better part of my thirties examining my past to better understand my present.

Now in my forties, I feel like I’ve got a solid understanding of how I came to be who I am. 

I understand that while I will never be able to fill the gaps for that lonely, lost little girl of my past, I sure can provide my own girls with a solid foundation. 

And instead of wallowing in what happened, I can forgive myself for my missteps, buckle up my shoes and keep walking, eyes forward. 

My childhood friends and I always mimicked my mom’s “You have a choice, Lauren.” speech. But my mom gets the final laugh because, she was right!

There are always going to be people we’d rather not be around or challenging, unavoidable life events.

We can’t choose those people or those events but we can choose how we handle them. 

It’s how we respond that matters.

I have quite a few friends enduring some major life changes this holiday season- deaths of loved ones, divorce and general heartache. 

To them and to all of you reading, I reach out my hand to hold yours and to remind you that in this holy season, you can also put those hands together in prayer to ask for God’s help. 

You’re not alone. 

We never are. 

That’s one choice we can’t make. 

Wishing you love, peace and joy this holiday season. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Liberated

Posted on by Lauren

Saturday, November 30th is officially my 6 months sober date but I’m not superstitious about announcing it early because I have no doubt I’ll make it.  

I plan to share my full testimony on my one-year anniversary but for now, I’ll say this: 

I’ve been liberated.

Alcohol stole my time and health while fooling me into believing it was my deserving escape. 

I don’t look back because it’s a place I never want to return to. 

I frolic forward, free from its tight embrace, stronger and more sound-of-mind than ever. 

If you’re reading this and on the fence, I just want to tell you, I’m here holding your hand if you need one. 

But what if you can. 

“But What if You Can?” is from the book, The Whatif Monster. He’s a character created by author Michelle Nelson-Schmidt whose empowering children’s books about overcoming fear have not only impacted my children’s lives, but mine, too. Check her out: https://www.facebook.com/MNScreative/