Uncategorized

Granny’s Farm

Posted on by Lauren

Today was a most difficult day for our family.

Today we said our final goodbye to Granny’s farm.

My in-laws home was so much more than just any-old-house.

Designed and built by my father-in-law, Bill, their retirement home rests upon over 50 acres of land on the banks of Lake Mattamuskeet, a National Wildlife Refuge found 30 miles from the nearest stop light. 

The land is full of migratory birds, black bears, and deer, to name a few. Rich, black soil supports vibrant family-owned farmland as far as the eye can see. 

My mother-in-law, Betty, grew up in her grandmother’s house next door. They didn’t have electricity until she was 12 years old and used a horse before they purchased a car.

Bill was raised with his large family across the Lake. Ten years apart in age, they met shortly after Betty graduated from high school and the rest is history. 

They moved to Chesapeake, VA to give their four children more opportunities and moved right back to retire in Fairfield the second my husband graduated high school more than 30 years ago. 

Bill passed away in the home when our oldest, Aurora, was only 4 months old. Betty has remained, ever since. 

Yes, this house and its land was so much more than any-old home. 

It’s where our little family spent every single Easter and Thanksgiving. 

This is where our girls picked figs, peaches and pears in the Summer and grapes, apples and pecans in the Fall. 

This is where they learned to ride a 3-wheeler, shoot a gun, and befriend a domesticated deer named Jane Doe. 

This is the place my children bottle fed lambs and calves, where we roasted oysters over open fire and dyed easter eggs. 

Fairfield Methodist Church is where all four of our girls were baptized. It’s where they listened to their Granny play the piano and received treats for the children’s sermon. 

When I close my eyes, I feel the soft wind brush my hair. The air is filled with the scent of ripe figs so visceral, I can taste them. I hear the crunch of the pecan hulls underneath my feet and soak in the stunning sunset over the pier my husband built in the lake. 

Yes, this home is more than just any-old-house. 

It’s a symphony of senses. 

It’s a holder of some of our family’s most precious memories that we will carry with us for a lifetime. 

Today we said our final goodbye to Granny’s farm. 

Forever we will say thank you. 

Presence

Posted on by Lauren

My dad was discharged from the hospital yesterday, after a 10 day stay, thanks to a broken hip and post-surgical complications. Other than Saturday & Sunday, I was there to offer a familiar face and guidance on “where we go from here.” It was stressful and exhausting and a privilege to show up for him when he has provided for me, my entire life.

But my kids missed me. They love their grandpa and knew I was with him, but they also wanted their mom.

So when I poked my head into Harper’s room late last night, she wore a wide smile, with a shine in her eyes. I asked, “Did something happen?” Fully expecting her to tell me some incredible news.

She simply replied, “No, I’m just happy to see you.”

It stopped me in my tracks because it truly is that simple.

We show up for the people in our life. Even when we don’t have all of the answers or know what to do. Just our presence could make their day, like it did my dad and Harper’s.

And there’s no substitute for that.

The Moon and Me

Posted on by Lauren

When my confidence is shaken and the doubt creeps in,

I find my way to the beach.

It’s here, with my toes gripping the sand, the salty breeze on my face and the crashing waves drowning out the noise in my head that I am grounded.

Life continues to amaze.

Despite the unexpected twists and turns, the ocean and nearly full moon visible at dusk remain.

No matter what is happening inland or in my head, I can always escape here.

Just the moon and me.

Magic

Posted on by Lauren

“Dying on your couch while watching TV by yourself is a tragedy. Dying while doing something you love with every part of your body is magic. I wish you magic.”*

The entire premise of my New Leaf Parenting blog is that “Every Day is a Fresh Start”. There’s a lesson to be found in every great or minute facet of life. 

But sometimes there is tragedy.

As humans, I believe we are built to persevere, to overcome, even in the darkest of times. Surely survivors of The Holocaust and modern atrocities have taught us that. If they survived, we must. 

The truth is, the wind was knocked out of my lungs when my friend called to tell me she had discovered that our pet died the morning after we had left for our longest-ever 10 day vacation. 

He was “just a rabbit”. Not a human, not a dog or cat. Just a rabbit that happened to be my first pet since losing my precious dog to a rattlesnake bite when I was 12 years old. 

He was our first family pet, purchased at the beginning of the pandemic when we decided to homeschool our four daughters then ages, 2, 4, 6 and 8. 

We called him our “therapy rabbit” because he was forever patient- if the girls were loud, he would form into a “loaf”, blocking out the obnoxious sound. When the girls were sad, he would recline next to them, offering unlimited pets. They would nuzzle their face into his and he accepted their grief without question. 

He was my morning coffee buddy and my late-night snuggler. 

He died because he escaped his enclosure, unnoticed before we left town. Our last security video shows me and my husband ensuring his safe keeping but unbeknownst to us, he made his escape and met his end by another animal that night. 

I lie awake, thinking about his tragic, painful, lonely end. Was he scared? Did he feel betrayed by us for leaving town? 

He was so good to us, he deserved better. 

But then I read fiction to escape reality and come across quotes like the one above and I wonder, did he know we were leaving? 

Did he leave before he was left? Not knowing the dangers that lurked in the darkness?

Sometimes there is tragedy and no good lesson to be found. 

But I think I’ll sleep better if I believe Oreo died rebelling, refusing to be domesticated a day longer.

I think I’ll sleep better if I believe in magic. 

I wish you magic. 

* Napolitano, Anne. Dear Edward. New York. Random House. 2020.

Wrinkles

Posted on by Lauren

I know I offended her.

But I didn’t mean to. 

I thought wrinkles were beautiful. 

They meant she’d lived long enough to earn them. 

So I asked, innocently enough:

“How’d you get them?”

I wanted wrinkles like those. 

Evidence of a life well-lived.

I’m happy to report. 

I’m earning them.

And they’re beautiful. 

Sums

Posted on by Lauren

“You don’t know what it’s like to be ME!” she cries.  

No, my darling. 

Not one of us knows what it is like to be you.

Or to be anyone else for that matter. 

And I think, 

That about sums it up. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Less is More

Posted on by Lauren

There is such a thing. 

As too much of a good thing.  

Be it chocolate, exercise or overpacked schedules full of fun. 

At some point, you burn out.  

Why must we get that point to learn the hard way?

Case in point: I developed an eye twitch a couple of weeks ago.  

Gee, here’s a new thing- I can’t control my eye spasming!  

A quick google search revealed the most common cause: STRESS.  

When the balls start dropping, it’s time to reevaluate which ones we can let go. 

Otherwise, we are failing at juggling.  

I’ve since slowed way the hell down.  

Learning to say no, when I desperately want to say yes.

Rushing less and relaxing more. 

In other words, 

Less is more.  

Camille Vaughan Photography

Traverse

Posted on by Lauren

It happened gradually, so quickly.  

She changed over time, overnight.  

I thought I was prepared, but never saw it coming. 

My bedside table is stacked with parenting books, I follow counselors on social media and I listen to podcasts.

But it wasn’t until a counselor with five decades of experience said the word “stop” that I finally listened. 

Melissa Trevathan of the Raising Boys and Girls podcast often speaks “words of wisdom” in the last two-to-four minutes of each episode and in the one titled “Building Intentionality and Thoughtfulness as a Family” she explained how parenting is much like skiing. 

Sometimes you are traveling along just fine but then you hit obstacles. Our instinct is to keep going- to keep trying to figure it out as we go.  Her years of wisdom has taught her to instead, stop and reevaluate.  To form a new plan of how to tackle the difficult course ahead.  

Children, much like trails, change over time and have different needs.  Toddlers are not babies, middle schoolers are no longer elementary age and so on.  

And if we seek to parent with intentionality with the end in mind, then we must ask ourselves why did we even agree to start?

Why did we say “yes” to this parenting trail?

And how are we helping our children along the way to grow into the joyful, successful adults we all hope them to become?

As our children grow, so do we. 

When I finally took a moment to “stop” and really listen to my tween daughter’s frustrations, I saw her as another young human instead of the child I was in charge of raising. 

In my mind’s eye, I moved from standing in front of her, explaining what she needed to do and stood beside her, arms linked. 

“We’re in this together.”  “I trust you.”  “You are amazing.”  

Instead of focusing on her missteps, I more audibly recognize her accomplishments.

I am actively giving her what all of us crave: acknowledgement for how far she has come and my belief in her ability to succeed.  

My daughter became a tween and although I tip my hat to those who have journeyed before me, I refuse to accept the warnings that “I’m in for it”.  

Instead, I stop.  I reevaluate my course. 

And my daughters and I traverse this mountain together.  

Coach

Posted on by Lauren

What makes a coach?

I always assumed it was a prestigious group. 

Maybe she was born with it.

Maybe it was Maybelline?

Whatever it was, I never in a hundred-million-years believed it could have been me. 

But then I learned of this organization that took athleticism and married it with girl-power-inspiration and I fell in love. 

As a mother of four daughters, how could I not represent? 

Girls on the Run. 

I started the process and reached for the help I needed to make it possible. 

And isn’t it amazing how help arrives 

When we give ourselves the permission to ask for what we need?

Here they came, from the brinks: 

She, a previous GOTR coach with grown children. 

Her, a working mother of four. 

My friend, an invested military mom. 

And the one who made our expansion from 15 to 22 possible- the outlier, willing to commit for the greater good.  

Together we shared the responsibility and together we led.

22 girls. 

11 weeks.

One 5K. 

She believed she could. 

So, she did. 

Girls on the Run.

Clear

Posted on by Lauren

I met him and it was clear, he wasn’t over somebody else. 

I handed him a Dr. Phil book and explained, if you want to be with me, then:

Read and do this. 

It took him a journal and a year, but damn if he didn’t do it.

Afterwards he looked at me and said, “I’ve learned more about myself while I’ve been with you than my entire life.”

Then, years later, I met the girl.

And I fell in love with her, too.

After all, we loved the same man. 

So, it makes sense. 

We started riding the Peloton together- two different states- texting every week to keep each other accountable.  

And in the midst, an unlikely friendship grew.  

Me and my husband’s ex-love.  

Riding, motivating each other to be our very best self.  

After all, we loved the same man.

So, it makes sense. 

I met her and it was clear.