HAPPY (Almost) NEW YEAR! + The Books of 2021

Well Friends, we did it. We survived another wild, strange, difficult year. How are you doing? 

I'm okay. This year was...  well, it was certainly something. I had a lot of really hard firsts: Our first ever restraining order against a neighbor (May-December) and my related first ever severe episode of anxiety. Our first ever marriage counseling sessions, my first time routinely attending weekly therapy, our family's positive covid test results and my month-long quarantine (January).

There were a lot of bright spots mixed in with the bad. The kids got to return to in-person schooling after about a year away. I took more walks and hikes this year - Movement and nature time for my mental health, with my dog as my companion, has been enlightening and joyful for me. Also, I flossed my teeth every day! So fresh and so clean! I maintained friendships by spending time with my favorite people and had several very long phone calls with a couple of friends who I don't see often enough. This summer, we spent time with my sister-in-law Dawn and her kids after a million years apart. We vacationed in Utah with family and visited Idaho with friends and went to Yellowstone National Park for the first time! Also, I made magic every holiday and birthday, because that is what I do. 

Another thing I do is read. I'm not a risk taker, much to my husband's chagrin. I'm not an adventurer. When a pandemic is raging across the globe, I want to be at home, safe and cozy. When a pandemic is not raging, I still want to be at home. I'm not big into watching t.v. shows, though I did watch "The Wheel of Time" (which is based on *ahem* a book series *ahem*) this year. Instead of watching movies or shows, I typically use my cozy, quiet evening time to read. I also listen to a lot of podcasts and audio books throughout the day, while doing chores, driving, running errands, or gardening! 

2021 was a good reading year for me. 

I consumed a total of 68 books. 29 of them were audiobooks. 

This year I read more graphic novels and middle grade books than in years past. This was the year I finally read some V.E. Schwab, I discovered Untamed by Glennon Doyle, and I made my first dive into Sylvia Plath. This was also the year I participated in my first ever Popsugar Reading Challenge and completed the regular portion. I really enjoyed the way the challenge prompted me to branch out and read books I may never have chosen on my own. 

Behold the books of 2021! They were glorious and beautiful. I love them dearly. 

HAPPY 2022, People. May it not suck the joy out of your life!!!!!

Another Year Older

November is my favorite month. 

November is when it finally starts to feel like Autumn (My favorite!) around here, even though the season started a month and a half ago. November also means it's almost Thanksgiving time, and while it is a holiday with a complicated history, it is linked in my mind with fond memories, family gatherings, and lots of delicious food. The most important reason why November is my favorite is because it's my birth month. 

I have always loved my birthday. Growing up in a privileged white collar home with loving parents meant that I received presents each year, celebrated with extended family, or had parties with my friends each time my birthday rolled around. I can remember my Uncle Kevin —whose birthday was near mine, so we all celebrated together— sticking his finger in our shared cake because he thought it was funny. (If I recall correctly, I found this desecration of our birthday cake to be more rude than funny because I am a certified Party-Pooper.) I can remember a birthday party at a rollerskating rink with my friends. I also remember sitting in the trunk of our brown Toyota Tercel wagon on the drive home from the skating rink because all of my friends were in actual seats with seatbelts. The highlight of that drive was popping my head up to make faces out the rear window at people in other cars on the road. My childhood was pretty great. 

As an adult, I continue to love my birthday. I quietly count down to it each year in the back of my mind. (I obnoxiously count down aloud to my family and friends.) I love my birthday as a grown up because it serves as a little milestone for me each year. It's a day to reflect on how far I've come, where I am, and where I hope to go in my life. I love getting cards from family and friends. I love all of the happy birthday wishes that pop up on my social media feeds. Each little note prompts me to pause and reflect on my connection with the well-wisher, our shared history, and fun memories. Those moments of remembering friendships help me to know how very fortunate I am. 

I love my yellow-brown Topaz birthstone. I love being a Scorpio while simultaneously believing that astrology is 95% nonsense. I love that my birthday happens at the time of year when leaves are falling from the trees, shadows are growing longer, the air is getting crisper, and sweaters and scarves are coming out of people's closets. It's a beautiful season. 

This birthday was a good one. I made a new year (because my birthday is the start of my new year... get it?!?) resolution to practice being in the present more. I'm hoping to achieve this greater state of mindfulness by carving out a little more unstructured time for myself *gasp* to do what I want and to do it with intention. We're one week in and so far it's working out great. Last week I used my sacred time to read. This week the dog and I took a long walk in nature. Next week anything is possible. 

Happy November, my friends.

Yesterday Was Mother's Day

Ah Motherhood.

I've been pondering my journey down this path to Mom-Life. Come along with me...

When I was a teenager I decided that if I were to get pregnant in high school or college I would get an abortion. I had too many aspirations, too much to do. I wasn't ready for a kid and I knew it. I wanted kids, one day, but I wanted a doctorate in veterinary medicine first. My plan was in place. School and career first, marriage and kids later.

In college I joined a pretty fundamentalist religion and I made some big life choices around the concept of my future family and kids. Veterinary school seemed like a lot of work, a lot of debt, and I didn't see how I would healthily balance a career as a vet with all of the family responsibility that comes with motherhood. So I took a step back from my childhood aspirations and became rather gloomy while I thought up a backup plan, because I am Type A and I NEED a plan. Always. 

(I wish I had felt less desperate to push forward and progress toward my career, marriage, and kids. I wish I had taken a year off to travel or explore different fields. Alas, my drive and my Mormon beliefs kept me away from a bohemian adventure and I marched forward with my need to check items off my lifetime to-do list.)

My backup plan was a teaching credential. Teaching seemed like an ideal career because I could eventually work in the same school district that my kids attended so we would have the same schedules - My life and career would be perfectly set up to revolve around my kids. And so I began the process of becoming a teacher. While I preferred the idea of a single subject credential so I could teach high school science, my college of choice didn't offer that program right away. I COULDN'T possibly wait twelve months to pursue the science teaching credential, so I jumped into an elementary credential program that began sooner. I enjoyed the program, I made friends and learned bunches, and landed a teaching job just a couple months after graduating. 

I also met my now-husband during that time. We were dating. I was thinking about marriage and kids.

I taught elementary school for a few years. I loved the experience, I loved my students, I loved my coworkers. The job was time-consuming, challenging, emotionally exhausting, yet rewarding. I got married during that time. A couple of years after that, I was pregnant with my first kid. I reached out to the district superintendent and asked if I could work part-time in a job-share the following school year because I loved my job and wanted to keep it, but I also knew that I would want more time at home with my child. The day I came home from the hospital with my newborn daughter, I checked the mail and found out that my request for part-time teaching was denied. I decided right then and there that I would quit teaching and stay home with my kid. 

And I did. 

Writing this out, I am startled to realize that I started sacrificing my career plan and my individual identity to my children BEFORE they were born, BEFORE I HAD EVEN MET THEIR FATHER. I was carving off pieces of Sarah to make room for kids, to shape me into "Mom" well before I had a grasp on what that would mean. What the hell was I thinking? Who the hell am *I* after shaving off so many bits of me along the way? 

Damn the LDS Church and the greater patriarchal American culture for making it so completely acceptable to me to sacrifice myself at the altar of motherhood before I was a fully formed creature. 

Thankfully, I did not entirely let go of my hold on veterinary medicine. I worked as a veterinary assistant through college, through my teacher training, and on Saturdays while I was a school teacher. I am a veterinary assistant still, today. That job never got pushed aside or cut away. That piece of me is still in tact. What a shame it pays garbage. It's one of the few thing that I know I do entirely for me. 

All this being said, I love my kids. I really do. I'm lucky to have them and grateful for them. Yet it is fascinating to take this time to step back and marvel at how many choices I have made (and will continue to make, *sigh*) in the name of their well being while burying my own along the way. 

Happy Mother's Day.