A Non-Mom's Perspective on the Working Mom Debate

It seems that the debate has raged about the stay at home mom vs. the working mom forever. Recently, though, I've noticed a spike in articles discussing the topic. Some with gentler themes of "Can't we all just get along?" and others with a bit more of a "Screw you" feel directed at those on the other side. My take on it is more of: WHY ARE WE STILL ARGUING ABOUT THIS?

I am fairly unqualified to have a super opinionated stance one way or the other since currently I have zero children (with the exception of the golden doodle waiting anxiously in Alabama for Bryan and me to come scoop him up once he's old enough.) However, as someone who loves children and plans to have a bunch of them in the not too distant (but not too close) future, it's something I have talked about with B and with friends and worried about a ton. It's a constant back and forth struggle. We wonder how we'd be able to function without one parent being at home since even as DINKs we can't seem to get all of our daily crap done and then we wonder how we could ever afford not to have both of our incomes and pay for any extra little people to live, what with diaper, health care, food, crayon, and other needs. At times the worry of it all and the attempt to plan the future is utterly overwhelming.

What kind of mom am I going to be? Stay at home mom or working mom?

After much debate, prayer, and soul searching, the unsatisfying answer I have come to is: who the hell knows at this point?! But the saving grace behind that answer is that no matter what we decide, I am confident that I will be the best mom that I can be and that I will try really, really hard to do a good job.

The reason I have to be okay with not knowing has a couple of layers:

1- Who knows what financial position we will be in when the time comes to have kids? There's no way to predict where either B or myself will be in our careers in a few years when the time comes to start a family, or if maybe we will win the lottery or find a shoe box with a million dollars in it. It might be doable. It might not. We'll have to evaluate our lifestyle and potential sacrifices it would mean for us and for the life we want to give our kids.

2- Who knows what we will feel like or how our hearts will change when we actually have kids? I have seen enough people become parents to know that a huge change occurs when it happens, so much so that you're different in your core. I have seen people who fully planned on going back to work decide that they didn't want to after holding their child, and I have seen people who had decided to stay at home realize that they needed to work outside of the home to be the best parent they could be. I think it'd be pretty dumb of me to pretend to know at this point how my heart will change when I become a mom. All I know for sure is that it will.

My point is this: I don't expect that we will know what is right for our family- financially, mentally, or otherwise- until we are in the hot seats. I also don't know why so many folks presume that they should make judgements about the way other people decide to raise their kids. It would do so much good for all of us to just say "Hey! High five! I bet you're trying really, really hard to do a good job, aren't you? Good work!" Because ultimately, I think it would be extremely challenging to balance a house, groceries, errands, and a full time job. It would also be really hard to get pooped on and to have to tell your kid to stop doing the same thing over and over again while maybe wanting to run out the front door a tiny bit and having people ask "So what do you even do all day?"

Both ways are hard and both ways have value and purpose. My vote is to leave the great debate about which way is better (or heaven forbid, right) at the door. Let's move on, people! Let's give one another a little breathing room and believe that, for the most part, everyone is doing the best that they know how given their specific deck of cards.

High five from me to all the baby mamas.

Loving Yourself on the Journey

SHOCKING that a post in early January would be about change and "the journey", right? It seems fairly predictable. In reality, though, this topic is one that I have been contemplating for some time now. It's something that I would wager everyone thinks about and struggles with on a regular basis- particularly women.

How do you balance recognizing a need for change and setting goals with still loving and valuing yourself just the way you are?

Let me explain...

2012 was CRAZY. We started the year with buying a house. We traveled to weddings and went on vacations and business trips. We planned the wedding of our dreams, went on our honeymoon, and ten days later I left for India. I got back the week of Thanksgiving and delved right into holiday mode with shopping and decorating and yuletide crazy. All the while trying to figure out this wife thing and be what Bryan deserves in a partner. Don't get me wrong- I do not say any of this to complain in the slightest. 2012 was a year where many of my biggest dreams became realities. To say I am blessed would be the understatement of the century. However, to say that I feel a bit like I just walked out of a tornado would also be true.

As Bryan and I were driving the other day discussing resolutions, I said generically that I would like to find more balance in life. A result of the sheer insanity of last year is that stressed has become my normal. I know I am not alone in that. With lawns to mow, bills to pay, church to attend, friends to visit, spouses to love- we are all running from pillar to post 99% of the time. For me, a negative side effect of keeping that pace is that I sometimes find myself feeling like a big fat failure. In every sense of the word. When you are constantly thinking about the next thing and not feeling like you ever really finish the thing you're currently on, it can result in a sense of desperation and fear that you're just not cutting it. I have found that I've become anxious at times to the point where I almost can't catch my breath (which is something I have never really struggled with before). It is like I have gotten everything that I have ever really wanted in life (aside from kids which is whoooaaa nelly a few years away) but I am not at peace. And then I feel guilty because good lord, what do I have to complain about? It's a feeling I think a lot of women struggle with which is discussed at length in a book I love about a woman's heart called Captivating: we're constantly afraid that we are either too much or not enough and cannot ever seem to get it juuust right.

There is an obvious need for some tweaking in my day to day life to find balance and peace, and the good news is I have a plan.  I am going to document it here so that it is written down and captured forever on the permanent record of the interwebs. More to come on that later.

But my main objective is to be okay with the fact that I am on the journey. I would like to learn how to love myself better in spite of my flaws. I would like to learn how to be able to recognize a need for change and work toward my goals WITHOUT being unhappy with myself in the meantime. I often fall into the trap of "Things will be so much better when..." or "I will feel much more comfortable in my own skin once I..." UGH. Gross. Enough. It is exhausting.

The truth is, even if I were a size 2 CEO with perfect skin and all the money in the world, there would still be something off somewhere in my life. Perfection is not an option but being at peace with beautiful imperfection is. So, that is my overarching goal. Because I know that I will at some point skip a work out this year or eat much too much pizza or utter something too vulgar in front of someone too proper. I will feel like I am too much, and then too little. But then, I resolve to take a couple of deep breaths and remind myself that I am okay just the way that I am right at that very moment.

I hope that anyone reading this (who is still reading that this point) can take away that message also. Most of us have some lofty goals to work toward in 2013, which is a good thing. We should all always be changing, growing, and learning. It's helpful to stop, take stock of things, and recognize where change is needed. But let us also remember to love ourselves as we climb our respective mountains. We are okay. We are doing fine. We are enough.

Starting 2013 with a (Back) Splash!

We were very blessed with several gift cards to Home Depot for wedding gifts and decided to use them to purchase the materials for a back splash in our kitchen. This was a project I had been wanting to tackle for quite some time since we bought the house last year. It was one of those things that we didn't even notice was missing when we looked at the house. I think our eyes gleamed at the stainless steel appliances and granite counter tops (which we LOVE, don't get me wrong) and we didn't even think to consider a back splash. That is, until we started cooking and doing dishes and noticed that the walls were getting dirty and wet.

 

On the laundry list of projects we'd like to do (finish the bar Bryan is building, add stairs and a path in the front yard, hang the porch swing, etc.) this wasn't huge on Bryan's priority list. But luckily with the gift cards and the name of an affordable handy man from my uncle, it was a project that could be accomplished in a short amount of time and handled affordably by a professional. We found the tile we liked and were told my Home Depot associate #1 that it was called Noche. They didn't have enough, so we headed to another location to pick up more and the color seemed off in that box. So, at Home Depot number 3, associate #2 told me that the tile in the model we liked was not Noche at all- it was Chiaro.

 

After a deep sigh and several swap outs/ returns/ blah blah blah, we finally got the right tiles and we were ready to roll. With the help of our new friends Butch and Johnny, our back splash was ready after a couple days of work! I think B was surprised at the difference it made. He agreed that it makes the kitchen look more finished and polished, and it really completes the room nicely.

 

Here are the before and afters:

 

Corner Before

 



Corner After



Sink and Window Before

Sink and Window After

Kitchen Before

Kitchen After

Ta Daaaaa!

We love the tile we selected and are so pleased with the finished product. Projects like this for our home are so satisfying because I love that Bryan and I get to come together to make our little space in this world our own. I think they also help with the whole cleaving process as I have to resist to my gut instinct to just call my mom and ask her exactly what we should do and consciously step toward Bryan and value his opinion before all others. It's so funny how much of choice that is! Maybe I am abnormal because I am super close with my parents, but I do have to remind myself sometimes that we are running our show now. It is a lot of fun getting to make these decisions together and become more of a unit. Go Hills!

 

That said, I still called my mom 3 times last week when fixing my first ever breakfast casserole for Christmas, so I understand full well that I will never stop needing her counsel!

Unfathomable

Friday I was getting my car washed over my lunch break when I heard the news about a school shooting. My first thought was to call Bryan, given that it's part of his job as an Emergency Management Consultant to be aware of and informed about these type of incidents so that they can be prepared to educate their clients. Knowing he was on his way back from a client meeting, I said "I don't know the details, just be sure to check it out when you get back to the office." And then I got home, as I was working remotely that day, and there on the television were the details. There were the horrifying, unfathomable details.

 

An elementary school. Kindergarten classrooms. 18, no 20 children. Children. 7 adults. His own mother.

 

I sat with my computer in my lap trying to work while watching the TV, grasping for a full breath over the lump lodged in my throat and for some reason, some knowledge of an event that could have triggered this horrendous thing. That is often our response, isn't it? We try to find a way to understand the why. But in this case, it looks like we might not ever know.

 

So what then, do we do? How do we do something to help ease this burden that has been placed on the backs of the families in Newtown, Connecticut and on this country, this world?

 

Pray. Honor. Act.

 

For me, the first thing was to pray. Prayer for the parents whose Christmas trees are decorated with the ornaments meticulously made by the children that won't be there Christmas morning to open their gifts. Prayer for the town whose peace was stolen and whose hearts are broken. Prayer for Ryan Lanza who has now lost his mother and his brother, and who must be grappling with questions of what he could have done in the midst of his own confused mourning. Prayer for the students, faculty, and staff that will have to go back into the building where so many were lost and try to keep teaching and keep learning. Prayer for our country and our leaders to be guided in their efforts to do something. Amidst the talk and the arguing about gun control and mental health I think that everyone can agree- we must do something. There has to be a way to try to avoid this happening again.

 

Then, you try to honor those lost. As much as we've all been glued to the television in an effort to answer all of our questions, I almost want to shy away knowing that each time I visit CNN's website, there will be another photograph posted. There will be another freckled face missing a tooth or two whose bright eyes remind me of the hope and good I see in my own nieces and nephews and it is almost too much to handle. It takes my breath away. But it is the right thing to do, in my opinion, to see those faces and read the stories of those kids because they matter. Their faces and their interests and the words their families have to say about them matter so much, and we owe it to them to listen. It is in seeing those faces and reading about how James Mattioli loved spiking his hair and eating his mom's french toast that we acknowledge their much too short lives. It is in looking at the angel face of blue eyed Grace McDonnell and reading that she was the ultimate girly girl that we directly say that her life mattered. These sweet details, though heartbreaking to us now, are the sacred details that made these kids the blessings that they were. Let us celebrate together what made them special. It is so painful to see in the void of their absence, but it is too important to turn a blind eye. Let us tell those families, we see the face of your children and we hear why they were so loved. Your children matter. They are not forgotten.

 

Then we are called to act. There is action needed, surely, to look at the way we empower and help those battling mental illness as was so eloquently written by this mother. We cannot live in a society where the only two choices are living in fear of your child or sending him or her to prison. There is discussion to be had about gun control. While I am a huge believer in one's right to own a gun, I have trouble understanding why there is a need for weapons to be available that have the sole purpose of literally mowing down human beings. But while all of this work needs to be done and these conversations need to be had, the action about which I am speaking in immediate terms is on a much simpler level. What if, in addition to acknowledging these children, these educators, this mother by reading their stories- what if we all go out of our way to extend some kindness to others on their behalf. We cannot undo the atrocity of December 14th, but we do have the power to put good out into the world. That is how we lessen the burden for Newtown and for our country. By choosing love and compassion over hatred and haste. Think twice before honking at the guy who cuts you off in traffic (I am so guilty of this) or losing your patience with the apathetic clerk at the retail store this Christmas season. Buy the person's coffee behind you in line at Dunkin Donuts. Compliment the stranger on how nice they look today. Feed the person with the sign on the side of the road who you might otherwise drive past. Make a point of being a beacon of joy for someone in some way each day.

 

We can't bring back any of the lives lost but let us pray and honor them and act with love in their memory. The world is good through the eyes of a 6 year old who delights in his or her scout troop, in jumping on the trampoline, and in sharing with friends. Let us see through that same lens to honor those lost. Let our small, seemingly insignificant acts of love and compassion add up little by little to combat the evil that happened on Friday. Let the light win over the dark.

 

"Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me." Matthew 25:40

Christmas Music and Memories

Isn't it crazy how much a song can evoke a memory? You hear a few bars and you are instantly taken back to a specific point in your life's story. I find this particularly true with Christmas music. I am such a sucker for the stuff, and am always super emotional around the holidays thinking about tender memories from childhood and the birth of the baby that changed the world. Here are a few of my favorites...

 

"Welcome to our World": UGH! This song gets me every time. I am instantly taken back to sitting in Holy Cross Church where we went growing up. They did the most beautiful version of this song at Christmas Eve Mass. The air in the church would be so full of warmth and joy and gratitude that you could just feel it (Holy Spirit, much?) This song captures so well that we are broken people and so in need of Christ's compassion, but it brings me a huge sense of peace knowing that He chose to come. Singing "welcome to our world" with this song feels like a personal reminder to me to invite Him into my life.

 

Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven's silence

Welcome to our world

 

 

"The Christmas Song": It has to be the Nat King Cole version- nobody else comes close. This one takes me back to the house I grew up in on Townley Circle and decorating the Christmas tree. We always played the Nat King Cole Christmas album while decorating the tree and this song was my favorite. This event always signaled that Christmas was actually here and kicked off the season. What a gift it is to get to place those ratty, horrible, handmade ornaments you had so proudly presented to your parents as a tot onto the tree each year. We always knew that they would make their appearance each December, but it remained funny year after year to pull them out and show them to everyone (and it still is). My giant soldier face and angel with larger than life lips are worthy of special mention.

 

And so I'm offering this simple phrase

To kids from one to ninety-two

Although it's been said many times

Many ways, Merry Christmas to you

 

 

"Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas": This one has to be the Judy Garland version. It's a bittersweet tune as it takes me back to the first Christmas after losing my cousin. It came on the radio in my navy blue Ford Explorer and when the line below played, I had to pull off of the road because I was crying so hard. This song, for me, epitomizes the dichotomy of the holidays where there is such immense joy that it makes you want to be with the ones you love, and how incredibly painful it is when you don't have that option.

 

Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow

Until then we'll have to muddle through somehow

So have yourself a merry little Christmas now

 

 

"Deck the Halls": Whenever I hear this song, I don't think of the song as it was intended to sound, but rather how it was interpreted by a group of waiters at a Chinese restaurant in the movie "A Christmas Story". Fa ra ra ra ra trumps fa la la la la any day, in my book. Every Christmas Eve after church, my family would gather together and watch this movie over and over until we went to sleep. Nothing says Christmas like the Red Ryder BB Gun, poor Ralphie and his shot out eye, and the Bumpuses' dogs.

 

Tis the season to be jorry,

Fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra

 

 

Christmas is definitely my favorite time of the year as I get to re-live all of these memories and prepare to honor the birth of Jesus. I hope that others are as blessed as I am to have such special moments to look back on.

London Calling

Firstly, let me say that yes, I know that I got married between this post and my last. I am FULLY planning to post about the incredible events of that weekend, but have not had time to pay it the attention that it deserves and want to wait until we have the pictures from the photographer to post. More to come. But in the meantime...

(My computer is not allowing me to add photos for some reason, but will edit this post later to include pictures!)

My friend and coworker, Liz, and I finally arrived in London last Friday- November 2nd- around 11:00 AM after a long, not so pleasant flight. I think the combination of the time difference and the overnight flight where we didn't sleep much really did a number on us, and we were THRILLED to touch down in England.

We were greeted by William and Kate at Heathrow for tea. Juuuuust kidding- but doesn't everyone sort of secretly hope that might happen? Like they will say, "Oh, we didn't know YOU guys would be here! Come on, we have some extra tickets to a sweet royal ball tonight and you should totally come!"

No? Just me? I digress.

We made our way to The Tube and headed up to the High Street Kensington stop where our hotel was. It was about a 30 minute ride on a beautiful day and I was struck at how the neighborhoods we rode through actually look like the ones from Harry Potter and/ or Billy Elliott.

We jumped off at High Street Kensington and grabbed a meat pie for some sustenance right away. These things are delicious and while a pie of meat never sounded good to me before, it was love at first bite! Delicious food stop #1- check.

We made the 5 minute walk to our hotel thanks to Liz's master navigational skills. Thankfully she likes to be the planner/ navigator and I like to be the la-di-da, that street looks cute let's go there person. We made a good match with her leading and me following behind pointing out funny birds.

The hotel was so stinking cute- just what you'd imagine a little British hotel to be. It was an old townhouse nestled in a row of others- mostly private residences I believe. We had a cute room with a bathroom (which I learned while hotel searching is not standard in England) and two twin beds.

We proceeded to take much needed, glorious naps before making our way out to explore Kensington. The only way I can describe it is charming. Every bakery, every restaurant, every park- we wanted to visit all of them during our short three day stint in GB.

We went down Kensington Road which- like the rest of London- was an intriguing mix of old and new. Exquisite, old buildings that had been around for hundreds of years sat next to Top Shop and H&M with their modern lines and bright lights. It made for such a delicious  juxtaposition of the city's formal, regal history and its hip, future forward culture.

We stumbled upon Kensington Palace and Kensington Gardens which were both so beautiful. We walked to the nearby Prince of Wales pub to split fish and chips and treat ourselves to a couple of pints. Then we found the Cafe Rouge- a cozy French spot- and had a glass of wine with some fabulous cheeses and homemade bread.

At this point we were excited for our first night in a new country but were borderline exhausted. We wavered between going big or going home. It gets dark SO early- like 4:30- in London so we felt like it was midnight but it was most definitely not even close. Deciding to push through in an effort to stay up to a normal hour and adjust to the time difference, we headed to a pub we had passed called  Goat Tavern. This, as it turned out, was a good choice.

We went downstairs just before rockaoke started which is where you sing karaoke with a live band. There were pints, there were old British guys in fedoras singing, and there was even perhaps the tiniest bit of absinthe, which by the way had the effect of approximately 27 red bulls on us and lead to us both signing up to sing. ("I waaaaant you to waaant me" and so forth.) Needless to say, we danced and sang until it was most assuredly an appropriate hour for bed and we headed back... after stopping at McDonalds. Slept like babies.

After breakfast at the hotel the next morning, we walked to Kensington Palace and toured the exhibits. It was stunning and was a great opportunity to get some insight into the history there. I was most intrigued by the love story of Victoria and Albert. I had, of course, heard of them loads of times but hadn't taken a deep dive. We got to read the tender love letters they wrote one another before their wedding, her thoughts about how wonderful but how exhausting being a mother was, and how they'd much rather keep the company of their kids at home than attend royal functions. It was so apparent how in love they were and how much they cherished their life together in the midst of the royal craziness. This made his fairly early death so incredibly sad, and made my heart hurt for her loss. She mourned him for the rest of her life, building him a huge, ornate memorial in Kensington Gardens and London Bridge too if I remember correctly. It is amazing how their love forever changed the landscape of London.

We went on for an scrumptious lunch at a French spot called Maggie Jones' a couple blocks from our hotel, then went back for a nap.

We walked up to Notting Hill and went down Portobello Road- stopping to buy some gifts for the husbands back home whom we were both already missing very much. Liz spotted a vendor selling mulled wine which we sipped to warm our bellies while we saw the hipster crowd of London walking up and down the street. I felt about 70 years old in my conservative khaki jacket and jeans and half wished I could switch it for one of their baggy sweaters so I wouldn't be such an obvious tourist! We had a beer at a pub (see how we did that a lot?) then walked back toward the tube and ate dinner at a pub just across from Kensington Park.

We hopped onto the tube to Trafalgar Square (which I still can't say right) via the Piccadilly Circus exit. We saw the craziness of the theater district and then walked to see the monument at Trafalgar surrounded by these enormous lions at the bottom keeping guard. It seems that monuments are everywhere you look in London. We passed another one honoring the Battle of Britain later than night, and I was shocked to learn how long the battle had lasted. It is so hard to comprehend that all of that was just a generation ago. That our grandparents and their friends were kids fighting that war- battling such insane evil- still blows my mind. Which brings me to another tradition we got to witness: the poppies.

November 11th is sort of like their Memorial Day, and the British honor those who served by wearing paper poppies throughout the month of November until the 11th. They do this because a large number of poppies bloomed in Normandy where so many of their soldiers were killed. I found it heartwarming to see so many pinned to the jackets of people all around- especially amongst the older gentlemen in their trench coats and hats (who were so British and charming and "ello!" I just wanted to hug every one of them) but also amongst the young people. There were poppies everywhere and it struck me as a beautiful way to remember those they'd lost by wearing something to symbolize the beauty that sprang forth from the ground where such misery and death had been.

We also got to see the London Eye that night as well as Big Ben and Westminster Abbey (from the outside.) It was crazy how close they all were. You could stand in one spot and turn around to see the abbey, the eye, the Thames River, and London Bridge all in one revolution. We walked down the river a ways then hopped back onto the tube.

Neither of us were up for another crazy night and we were both freezing cold, so we popped into a store for a bottle of wine, some sparkling waters, and some snacks and went back to our cozy little beds. We enjoyed the rest of the night in our pajamas watching hysterical British late night shows. For the record, I about wet my pants 5 times laughing at this show and I think our late night TV should mirror their way of doing it! Truly hysterical.

Sunday we enjoyed breakfast "pancakes" at My Old Dutch Pancake House. Their pancakes are really more of gigantic but very thin crepes which they cook with various things in them. Mine came with chicken, bacon (the British kind, so rather, it came with ham), corn, bell peppers, and a little cheese. Neither of us could finish ours but they were absolutely divine. I'll never look at pancakes the same way again.

We popped into Top Shop upon the urging of my friend Sally, and I got a very British, very sassy pair of paints with (wait for it...) leather trim down the side. Very excited for that purchase! We headed down the street and passed the aforementioned memorial monument to Albert, commissioned by Victoria. We could have stayed for an hour determining what each scene and figure meant.

Next we went to Harrods, which is the type of place one only imagines exists  in movies. It was an insanely nice department store with every designer name you could imagine and restaurants and food markets that made you want to bottle their aroma and put it into a candle to burn in your own home.

We picked up a few small gifts and since that place is not so much in our budget (dammit) we moved on to Westmister Abbey. It was closed unless you went for services, so we thought what the heck and went in. Then Liz saw that the Tower of London closed at 4:30 and that we would have to sneak out in order to make it- which we barely did! So I didn't see as much as I'd loved to have of the abbey, but I am so thankful to have been inside such a beautiful place where so many important figures from the past are at rest.

We got to the Tower of London with under an hour to spend so we missed a lot of what there was to see, but we did see the crowned jewels. Holy. Cow. I have never seen so much sparkle and brilliance in all of my life. The sizes of the diamonds- let alone the other jewels- on these crowns was unfathomable. Truly breathtaking.

We saw the spot where Anne Boleyn was murdered which sent chills down my spine after having read about what a completely twisted, sick situation all of that was (not that she was an angel but hey- that was pretty harsh.) We grabbed dinner at Liberty Bounds and hopped onto the tube back to our sweet Kensington neighborhood. We decided that we both really loved this area and we were so glad to have stayed there. Not that I saw all of London by any means, but I loved how unlike other parts it wasn't all business or all neighborhood, but rather was a lovely combination of both.

We went back to Prince of Wales for a final pint of cider and then got some more wine and snacks to top off the night in the room packing up and watching more British TV. (PS, if anyone knows how I can get Coronation Street in America I would be much obliged. Best bad British TV show ever- I am hooked!)

Overall it was a fantastic few days. I think we accomplished the delicate balance between seeing as much as possible in a short amount of time but also not planning ourselves to death so that we couldn't soak anything in. We didn't make it to some of the things on the list but were both content feeling that we really got a sense for the city over these few days.

It made me really regret not having done a foreign study in college. I cannot stress enough- on the off chance that someone reading this is in college or has a kid in college- how much I wish I had made that happen during my four years at Furman. I am so thankful to have had the chance to go now, though, and would love to go back with Bryan one day.

Writing this, I'm four hours into the 8 hour plane trip to India for what I'm sure will be another great adventure. Looking forward to this experience and also to seeing my Bryan in less than two weeks. Missing that husband a whoooole lot.

More from Hyderabad soon!

Pre-Wedding Camping and Bessie's Branches

This past weekend Bryan and I decided to head up to the North Georgia mountains Saturday morning for a short, 24 hour camping trip. More than a couple people looked at us like we were insane for this idea given that it was the weekend before the wedding and with camping comes the risk of snake bites, twisted ankles, poison ivy, etc. We decided that we would risk it, though, and headed up to a campground just outside of Clayton, Georgia. I am SO thankful that we gave ourselves this gift! To be able to unplug for a day from the details and craziness of the wedding planning was very needed and well worth it.



View from our campsite

 We took a long walk on Saturday and talked about what the next week would bring.

Flowers we spotted on our walk

We fixed silver turtles for dinner (if you don't know what a silver turtle is, you are missing out and should google it immediately).

Silver Turtle Goodness

 I caught up on some reading.

This magazine will make you hungry and will make you never want to go above the Mason Dixon. This book will make you grateful and will make you think.

 We enjoyed a lovely box of wine by the campfire and went to sleep early to the sound of the nearby stream. 

Keeping it classy. Ingles' finest box-o-wine and apples roasted with some butter over the campfire.

In the morning, we headed to Tallulah Gorge State Park and hiked for a few hours. We saw several waterfalls. After about ten minutes of trying to avoid it, I even gathered the courage to walk across a suspension bridge that went from one mountain to another over freezing cold, rushing water.

Heights are still not my thing.

On the way back to Atlanta we made a very special stop- one that I had been looking forward to because of its significance but dreading because it is always so ridiculously difficult. We stopped at the resting place of my cousin Beth. If you know me well, you have heard of her! We lost her in 2003 to breast cancer at the age of 33. It was very important to me to find a special, subtle way to have her with me on the wedding day because of the impact she had on my life. I wanted to honor her in a way that would not convey sadness or anger that she isn't here, but one that would celebrate the life she lived and the beauty she brought into this world. We were very close, particularly during my awkward middle school years when it's nice to have someone to look up to who has been where you are and with whom you can have real, honest conversations. She taught me to be confident in who I was rather than to try to be anyone else and to celebrate what made me unique rather than try to hide it (which is a helpful lesson for a 5' 10" 7th grader with braces!) She always made me feel special and feel that I was loved and was enough- just how I was. She had the most infectious laugh and the most joyful disposition. I miss her every day.

So B and I made the confronting yet important trip. We clipped several small branches from the beautiful tree that was planted beside her. It is huge now, with big green leaves and small brown berries. Thankfully, the weather was beautiful Sunday and we got to sit on the bench below while the wind blew through the tree in a very peaceful way.

I will bring the branches to our wonderful florist at some point this week, and she will incorporate them into my bridal bouquet. I am so blessed to have had Beth in my life and I am so glad that I will have a representation of her- a grateful ackowledgement of her impact on my life- included in the beautiful details of the day.

Bessie's Branches

Overall, this weekend was spent exactly the way B and I wanted it to be spent. Reflecting on the past, soaking up the present, and anticipating the bright, beautiful future. I cannot believe I am finally going to be his wife in a few days. Life is so very sweet.