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

Count On

Posted on by Lauren

“If there’s one thing we can always count on,”  I explain to my daughter, “it’s change.”

No matter how much we wish we could freeze time or return to the way things were before, change is inevitable.  

We may not be able to force the way things change, but we are able to control how we respond to it.  

Entering her first year of middle school, my eldest daughter is enduring a lot of change that frankly, she’s not a huge fan of.  

Riding the school bus for the first time, switching classes that are much larger than elementary and the loss of the familiarity of her previous school.  

Change is hard, for better or worse.  

In these beginning moments of great change, her emotions are running hot and cold. The smallest of problems are monumental.  It reminds me of a conversation I had with her when she was just four years old. 

I had just given birth to our third daughter, resulting in me leaving my two and four year old to play on their own while I nursed their baby sister to sleep.  

They would barge in with battles over a toy or to ask if they could have some pretzels, waking the baby from her near slumber.  


It was time for an intervention. 

I sat them both down and discussed the difference between “Big Problems” and “Little Problems”. I actually recorded it so that I could share it with my friends and I’m so glad I did because there’s a precious moment when the lightbulb goes off in my four year-old’s head.  She got it.  

Big problems are when you are bleeding, someone is at the door or there’s a bonafide emergency. Little problems are snack requests or arguments over toys. 

The same still holds true. Sometimes in moments of stress and vulnerability, even the smallest problems seem overwhelming. But if we take a moment to stop and really think, we realize they aren’t so life-threatening after all. 

Recognizing the difference is the first step.  

Adapting is the next. 

Forgotten materials and missed assignments are challenging, but fixable. 

Changing schools is hard but not insurmountable.  

The sooner we anticipate and roll with change, the less anxious we will feel. 

“There’s another thing you can count on.”I whisper to her as I tuck her into bed.

“Me.”  

Camille Vaughan Photography

Electricity

Posted on by Lauren

The crowd gathered round. 

Electricity. 

You could feel it in the air and we all wanted to witness.

Most didn’t know what for but I knew. 

These were my parents. 

Illicit lovers so long ago. 

Not meant to be forever. 

But meant to make and love me. 

Years passed but their magnetism never did. 

If only we could all be so lucky to love, at least once 

Just like that. 

Captain

Posted on by Lauren

They were my island. 

My safe haven from the rushing waters. 

In time, the shoreline shrank, leaving me grasping for olive branches. 

I had a choice to make. 

Do I stay, hoping and praying for the island to return?

Instead, I let go. 

Allowing the current to take me. 

I built my own boat from the surrounding pieces of my life. 

And found myself stronger than ever. 

The Captain. 

Dee Akright 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.  

Inside

Posted on by Lauren

He said, “I wasn’t sure you still had it in you. You’ve been inside so much.”

I laughed.

Oh, you think?

You think I’ve been inside a lot the last 12 years of raising our children?

Yes.

I’ve been inside cooking meals and folding laundry. 

I’ve been inside doctor’s offices and school buildings. 

I’ve been inside the heart of our family. 

But please don’t lose sight of me. 

My soul has always lived outdoors. 

I’m still here. 

I’ve been here all along.  

Far

Posted on by Lauren

I spent the better part of my first forty years desperate for others to understand how far I’ve come from where I started. 

Surely, they’d respect and understand me more?

But now I know, we all have stories, untold. 

And it’s best to approach all with the grace we’ve always wished upon ourselves. 

Hold my hand. 

Lean in. 

We’ve come so far. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Barbie

Posted on by Lauren

I just experienced the Barbie movie.

And I’m shook. 

It moved me to tears.  

This movie was masterfully made. 

Funny, thought-provoking and meaningful. 

The set design was epic. 

The cast, impeccable. 

The humanity- relatable. 

 A mother and her “tween” daughter at odds who ultimately work together to help Barbie and her land find their purpose. 

America Ferrera’s speech to “wake up” the barbies: “I’m just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman, tie herself into knots so that people will like us.”

Me too, Barbie. 

Me too.  

Privilege

Posted on by Lauren

I had been in labor for 37 hours when my mom entered the room and walked straight to my husband, with a breakfast sandwich, exclaiming, “You must be so tired.”

My husband was so confused.

She had not acknowledged me or the baby. 

And I guess that’s what I want people to know. 

Privilege comes in many forms. 

Imagine sand.

Some of us build from a deeper hole. 

And yet, we’re on the same team. 

Image by Amara Minnis