Self

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. 

Untethered

Posted on by Lauren

I walked out of the house with two different earrings in today. 

And it wasn’t because I was rushing or frazzled trying to get kids out of the door to activities. 

Instead, it is telling evidence of my current, untethered existence. 

This unfamiliar place of a grieving daughter and yet, still a mother. 

How am I expected to grieve when there’s cheer and gymnastics practice at 5 and 6? Horse riding and volleyball at 5:30?

How does one grieve between doctor’s appointments and physical therapy? 

How does one keep house and prepare for the Easter Bunny’s arrival?

By absentmindedly fitting mismatched earrings. 

By crying at stop lights or whenever someone looks me in the eye and asks, “How are you?”

By comforting my children and carrying on like mothers do. 

Cheer

Posted on by Lauren

This image is worth a thousand words to me. 

I volunteered to take a video of Harper’s teammate, for her mom so that she could focus on watching her daughter rather than recording.

I also snapped some photographs during the video and captured this image of my daughter positively beaming at her friend. 

They aren’t just teammates, but also competitors in the same age bracket. 

Both of these girls are new to Excalibur gym this year and moved from the Xcel program to Level 6. It’s a massive jump. They were both extremely behind the rest of their practice group when they joined last summer and have pushed themselves for 16 hours a week to catch up. 

It’s not easy. On top of the grueling practice, Harper is going from winning Gold medals at every meet last year to feeling thankful, this year, to leave with any medal hanging around her neck. 

But just look at her. Look at my girl. 

Look at my girl radiating sunshine to her top competitor, who would go on to beat Harper in every event at this meet. 

Look at my girl supporting her friend, despite likely hurting inside to know she’s been bested, yet again.

As a mom and a teacher and former coach myself, I could not be prouder to call her my daughter. 

Not only does she push herself for a sport she positively adores, but she also finds it within herself to support even her fiercest competitors. 

Harper, you may not win every event or any event this year, but you have won my enduring respect and awe. 

And believe me when I say, I will cheer for you, always. Whether you are up or down, I will cheer for you, my darling girl. 

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 Greatest Gift

Posted on by Lauren

“You need to tell her. You need to get into your car right now, go over there and tell her.” my husband encouraged. 

It was the eve of my birthday. We were on our front porch and I had just read aloud a letter I’d found while cleaning out my father’s condo. Apparently, he had kept a file for each of his children. In mine I found every report card, parent/teacher conference record and a collection of letters. 

What a treasure trove of memories this was for me to dive deeply into. 

But the one dated December 11, 1987 left me breathless.

If you’ve followed my blog, then you know the story of my beginning. I am the illegitimate love- child of a long-term affair. My parents worked together but no one suspected, not even after I was born. My older sisters, who also worked with my parents, knew me as “Pam’s daughter” but did not learn I was their half-sister until I was three. 

My mother was a powerful business woman. She was charismatic, magnetic, and inspiring. She meant much to many across the entire country but it was me, who wanted her attention the most. 

I spent so many years of my life resentful and angry for the time she’d spent building her career in place of a closer relationship with me. Now that I have a daughter very similar to me, when I was a child, I understand how challenging it must have been to forge that relationship. I didn’t make it easy. 

I finished this letter and instantaneously, my anger evaporated leaving nothing but remorse in its wake. 

I desperately wanted to call her and tell her how sorry I was for failing to recognize the love she had held for me my entire life. I was so busy focusing on her shortcomings that, as a result, I completely missed her devotion and steadfast love. 

My mother advocated for me. She encouraged my father to maintain a relationship with me not just in this letter but in other letters I found in the file: inviting him to conferences, recording my thoughts to him pen-to-paper when I could not yet write. 

How could I ever thank her enough for that gift? The gift of the presence of my father? 

What if I had found this after her death and had never apologized? 

What if my father hadn’t kept these letters for me to one day find?

But he did and she’s still here and my husband willed me to go to her. 

I couldn’t get a hold of her until the next day but when she answered, I started by telling her how much I loved her followed immediately by how sorry I was for remaining angry with her for so long. I thanked her for loving me anyway, in spite of my anger. For never giving up on me. Not then and not now. 

It was my birthday. 

And it was the greatest gift I’ve ever received. 

Love, forgiveness, and gratitude. 

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

River

Posted on by Lauren

Lately, I’ve started to visualize my life as a river.

She’s a real beaut. 

Surrounded by tall trees and mountains. She curves through forests, banked by shady trees; winding through cities, carrying on as rapids to more peaceful pastures. 

My river began as a stream and has gained confidence and power along the way. 

There have been moments when my river stalled. She was curious, exploring a side cove. 

Sometimes, she got stuck in a whirlpool. 

Round-and-round she went until she forgot not only where she came from but also where she was going. 

Finally, a particularly dreadful downpour left her overflowing back to her main stream whereupon she realized, with great relief, that the whirlpool wasn’t her final destination. 

No. 

It was just a stop along the way. 

And that’s what this journey called life is. 

A winding river with stops along the way. 

Sometimes bruised and battered. 

Hopefully made stronger. 

We carry on. 

Triple Falls Dupont State Forest, NC 2023