Fun with Family

It's been so fun to be with family in Louisville!

 We LOVED seeing Uncle Craig, Aunt Michelle, and cousin Jennifer a couple weeks ago.

We love and miss them!

(but thanks to their amazing organization and loving generosity, we remember them often when dressing Will--woohoo for hand-me-downs from Jennifer's sweet little guy Jameson! thank you!!!)

 

 Will just laid down next to Camdawg one morning. Sweetness.

 And then Brittany and Phil (aka Aunt B and Pablo) came in town from San Francisco.

They are TOO FUN.

Goes without saying that we love them a lot. a whole lot.

 Dad got a box at Churchill Downs one day while they were here, so the six of us headed to the track.

Dang, I LOVE going to the track.

The beautiful horses, the excitement of who is going to win, studying the Racing Form...it's awesome.

 Cuteness.

 I love mom's expression in this one.

YAY for sweet family time!

As for me and this blog, I realize that it's been a bit of a downer lately. To be honest, I think I am dealing with some feelings of anxiety and depression, and simply feeling overwhelmed, but I am working my way through it. Writing has become so integral to my experience this year, and I always want to be honest in my writing, but I realize that has some down sides, and one of them is that this blog has become less a snapshot of our full, fun life and more a space for me to reflect.
Clay, Will, and I are beyond blessed, and we couldn't be more excited about this next chapter in our lives. Can't wait to share snapshots of it with you all here!

The "marathon" continues...

It's official: I STINK at change.

When we were in Chattanooga a couple weeks ago, I told our friends that we were at the 26th mile of this marathon of a year, that the finish line was in sight, that we had run the race and were about to enjoy the blissful endorphins that come once you finally let yourself stop running.

I was wrong. WRONG WRONG WRONG.

I feel like we just ran 26.1 miles, saw the finish line, and then someone in a car came along and pulled the finish line back back back. To get there, we have to keep running. Up hills, only up, through tall grass, and in the pouring down rain. We're still running, folks.

And here's the truth: I'm over it.

All year, I have been trying to see the positives in the struggles, trying to grow in the challenges, trying to cherish new friends even when I am missing the old, but two weeks ago, we got to my parents' house and I just stopped. The truth is that I just can't keep it up. I'm done. I am ready for this adventure to be over.

As soon as we got here, our hearts full but our pockets empty, we hit the ground running looking for jobs. My first day nannying for two sweet girls, I cried the whole way home. Sure, I can take Will with me, and I am so grateful for that as he will always be the one thing I won't sacrifice in all this, but it was exhausting, humbling work: he had no fun, I had no fun, and I'm pretty sure the girls had half fun. It poured the entire day, so we were all stuck indoors with two hyper dogs, one of which had diarrhea, and the girls wanted to go to the movies and didn't understand that Will isn't quite old enough to sit in a 90 minute movie, so off to my parents' house he went while I took two girls I just met to the movies. Thank God the movie (Chimpanzees) was sad because I cried throughout it thinking that my baby was somewhere else while I was taking care of other people's babies. But mainly I cried because I was tired. Tired of waking up, staring another challenge in the face, giving it my best shot, and falling asleep utterly exhausted. So I sat in the dark movie theatre with two random girls and cried.

And I haven't really cried since. I think I'm all cried out. I don't feel much these days. I realized that this is where we are, that both of us working three jobs (a total of six jobs, not kidding, and we're still bleeding money--how does that happen?) and looking for a rental house that just doesn't want to exist yet and looking for a car for Clay that we really can't afford is where we are. So instead of waking up and staring the challenge in the face, I'm waking up and putting one foot in front of the other. That's it. That's all I have left. Thank God for my parents, who have loved all over us since the moment we walked in the door and have given us the tangible and intangible things we need at this crazy point in our adventure. I know I haven't been easy to live with, but I think it's because I just didn't realize that the challenges would keep coming once we got to Louisville. I was so happy but also so relieved when Clay earned his diploma back on May 16. He's done it, we've done it, I thought to myself. Will is still alive, our marriage is closer than ever, we've made the most of NYC and gotten jobs in a great town. We've done it. And we have. But I was so ready to close that story of our life and now I am realizing that it's only a chapter and the novel continues. Now I understand why sometimes great books end prematurely: the author is just tired. He's ready for it to be over. Makes sense to me now.

It's funny, though, how I keep learning really important lessons. I know this time--this year but also RIGHT NOW--is meant to be and that I am being shaped by it and it will be a part of me forever. Here's what I've learned this week:

1.) Be generous. Always be generous. Even when you aren't sure that someone is benefitting from your generosity, give anyways. When Clay and I moved out of NYC, we were robbed by the garage attendant where we parked our packed van. Nothing like paying someone $40 to rob us, huh? We didn't realize it until we got to Louisville and started opening empty boxes. He took Clay's playstation, which in the grand scheme of things isn't a big deal except that it makes Clay SO happy, and at the end of a long day, it makes me so happy when he can just play for a little while. Anyways, the family for whom I tutor emailed me a week or so ago to ask how our transition went, and I laughingly told them that we almost made it through a year in New York without (many) problems and then I told her the story. Three days later we come home from our jobs to a HUGE box waiting for us. Yup, this loving, amazing, generous family sent Clay a new XBox 360 AND games. I am still so humbled by it that I can't fully believe it.

2.) Angels exist. The family mentioned in #1 are proof of that. My parents, who have taken us in and showered us with food and babysitting for Will and transportation help are forever angels in my book. Clay's boss, who picks him up and drops him off every day since we don't have a second car yet, is another. Clay's parents, who love us so unconditionally and generously all the time, are angels. The old friend I reconnected with at a baby shower full of people I remembered but now don't really know is another. They're everywhere. And I reason to bet that you are an angel to someone and you don't even know it.

3.) Cherish your family. In the past three or so weeks, I've known three people who passed away, one of which was a former student and cross country runner of mine. She was 18. She was diagnosed with leukemia back in the fall and worked hard to keep up with her senior year studies until the cancer weakened her too much. And as I kept up with her struggle from afar, I kept thinking about her sweet mother, who was always there at XC practices and meets and couldn't have been a bigger cheerleader for her daughter. My heart ached for her, her husband, her other daughter. Christian died a week and a day after she was supposed to graduate from GPS. She will forever personify Hebrews 12:1: "

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

4.) Children are gifts. I hate the saying that babies change everything (doesn't it sound so scary?) but I quietly admit it's true. Will has changed my life and in every way for the better. He brings me joy when I am despairing, he gives me strength when I am weak, he makes me laugh when I need it most, he shows me all day long what is really important: family hugs, time together, play, books, doggies, and curiously exploring this majestic and mysterious world in which we live. Back when Clay and I decided to leave Chattanooga and embark on this crazy adventure, I asked Clay, "How can we do this with Will?"I just didn't see how this year would have been feasible with a toddler. Now I bow my head and thank God for knowing that I couldn't have done with year without Will. He's my gift. And when everything else seems hard and the finish line seems distant, all I need to keep me going is to hold his hand and hear his steady breathing and know that he's okay. Because if he's okay, then I'm okay, Clay's okay, our little family's okay.

My race is nothing compared to Christian's brave fight or the challenges that many people around me deal with every day. But this year has tested me over and over again. As much as I pray that our life will calm down soon, I know I need to pray that I can "run with perseverance the race marked out for us." Here's to the race and adventure continuing...

Clay's TC Graduation!

He did it! Woohoo!!!

Chillin' before the ceremony

Here they come!

This was one of three TC graduations. Lots of graduates. My oh my.

YAY for Pat and Kay being with us!

Graduate. Move. Care for toddlers. Fly to and from Texas. One week.

Word.

How did we get through the ceremony and reception? Sugar. Lots and lots of sugar.

Clay and his friend, Moon, with whom he interned last semester.

Can you find Will taking a break from the socializing?

Best friends.

Congrats to the Klingenstein Class of 2012!

Masters degrees in Educational Leadership

Taking some lessons from the Finance Professor.

Pearl Kane, director of the Klingenstein Center for Private School Leadership

These boys sure are going to miss each other.

Love our family!

Mother's Day 2012

Moving boxes frame Will's bedroom and

Penske vans line 121st Street while parades

of light blue gowns astride their parents float

down Broadway off to New Yorkers' favorite

weekend meal: brunch. Mine's in a paper bag,

and it's Absolute delicious, a whole-wheat

everything bagel that my favorite baker handed

me fresh from the wall-sized oven in the back of

the dive off 108th. He smiled, looked down at my

sleeping beauty in the crimson City Mini, and

wished me a Happy Mother's Day. Yes, it is.

My little Will, almost two, joined me at the Wild West

playground in Central Park after church. Crumbs from

his favorite poppyseed muffin lingered until he slid down

the slide on his belly, one of his hundreds of mannerisms

that I have fallen in love with this year. We swung for a

hot minute, got the beautiful big yellow shovel yanked from

our hands in the sandbox, and bounced on a precarious wagon

until his eyelids drooped and he begged for his paci.

We strolled along Central Park West, the shaded side,

from 84th to 107th and enjoyed the feeling of

really living in this city. We did it. Together. We did it.

A week from now we will be in Chattanooga,

having celebrated a birthday and two graduations.

Camden will be in Louisville, finally free to roam. Home.

We will have dropped off the rental van, exchanged

the Pilot baby seat for a toddler one (when did he grow so?),

put the leftover cans of beans in the pantry, and probably

taken a bath or three. Life's about to look a lot different.

But today I am on the Upper West Side and I am happy.

Right now, this is home. The parks and the bagels and the

"Happy Mother's Day"s from no fewer than five strangers

on the street. It's a big city, one that is still mostly a mystery,

but somehow we have carved out a life here. I will miss

Tot Lot 110 with Maresa and Lisa, will miss studying

people on the subway, will miss Wednesday Mom's Group,

but I take lessons learned from all of it with me and I remain

grateful. This sweet boy, whose eyelids finally grew too heavy,

the loyal beagle who waits excitedly at home for our return,

and the man of integrity who gave all this and more to me

are what I can't live without. They are my home.

So as I munch on my bagel and soak up Broadway

one more time, I say a silent word of thanks

to the smiling strangers, the angel of a boy who

made me a mother, and the homeless man on our

own corner, 121st and Broadway, who asked me for

"anything," and despite receiving nothing in return,

called me beautiful and wished me, yet again,

a Happy Mother's Day. I turned the corner, heading home,

and then turned around. And because it was true,

I told the man with the frayed shoes and piercing blue eyes

that he was beautiful too. I didn't have much on me,

but I gave him what I had because I. simply. have. too. much.

Choices

This post is for me.

I have a feeling that my sweet and faithful followers (all three of you, including you, Mom) will read this and think that I either need to chillax or get a nice big bear hug, but I promise I don't. I don't need any comments on this one, any positive affirmations or reassurances that I am doing exactly what I should be doing. And no, I am not depressed (at least I don't think so).

But I am real.

And I think writing brings out the reflective in me, the self-assessing in me, the raw in me that I don't reveal anywhere else. And that's so much of why I write and why I teach writing. I think everyone who lives and breathes and thinks and cares about people and works hard and tries and fails and loves and loses and learns and learns and learns again experiences these really RAW and COME TO JESUS moments when we realize that in spite of all of our good intentions, we really aren't in control and have no idea how things are going to turn out.

I am a happy person by nature and an incredibly blessed person by God and I wouldn't change a thing about my life, not where I've been or where I'm going. I have the greatest husband in the entire world (sorry, ladies) and the sweetest, most loving little boy and the most faithful beagle you could imagine. My life is joyful (in the literal sense of the word) and rich and good and sweet. There are no "but's," I promise. I simply can't, nor don't, ask for more. I am FULL.

In 19 days, we move out of NYC and head back to the Bluegrass state, my old Kentucky home. Moving back there was a choice that Clay and I made thoughtfully and prayerfully, and as we begin to say goodbye to our new friends in the city, all of whom are heading in different directions themselves, my heart has been keenly attuned to the choices that the people around me--and I--make.

So that's the topic of this post: choices.

And while I have learned a lot about parenting and marriage and friendship and grief and patience and generosity and kindness and humility this year (A LOT), I think so much of what I have learned boils down to this: Choose to be happy.

That's it. Choose to be happy, Sara.

But it's so frickin' hard sometimes.

Because this post is for me and because I want to remember not only the Kodak moments from this year but also the hard lessons learned along the way, I'll begin with an example from today.

Clay has been working insanely hard on this group project in which the group has to completely and realistically design a new school. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it's a lot of work. And his group stinks. I tried to be understanding of them at first and give them the benefit of the doubt, but now I am just being honest: they are disappointing. So Clay has been working overtime to get this project up to speed, and the last step is a 20 minute presentation in front of his fellow cohort members, the directors of his program, and impressive community leaders who agreed to "judge" these projects. So for the past 48 hours, Clay and I have been working side-by-side on this powerpoint because none of his other four group members devoted time to it. And you know what? We had so much fun working together; it made us excited about working together next year.

Anyways, we dressed up this powerpoint and worked until their final group meeting today at noon, at which point he took the powerpoint to the other members for continued creative input and improvement. He came home not much later, reporting that the group liked it and said it was fine. No changes. They said thanks.

And I'll be honest. At that moment, I wanted to be in the program. I wanted to do better in this program than his group members, I wanted to see what I could accomplish when challenged, I wanted to stand up next to Clay tomorrow and co-deliver this new school pitch and write all the papers and read all the books and visit cool schools and earn a degree that would probably accelerate my career and give me a faster shot, if not a better shot, at achieving my long-term professional ambitions (whew, I said it).

And then Will woke up.

And I suddenly remembered that I had changed.

He held his sweet arms up to me and smiled as I twirled him around in circles and said "yeth" when I asked him if he wanted to go outside and I, for perhaps the 954,286,036,715th time, thanked God for him.

It's okay to love the little things, Sara. In fact, those little things may be big things after all.

I think part of the reason this year has been two steps forward, one step back for me is because I am learning how to love being more of a mom than an achiever in the literal shadow of the perhaps the largest academic building in the country devoted to education. Our two apartment windows stare at the back of Teacher's College. And when I walk out our dorm, I walk around it but rarely go into it. And that is so WEIRD to me. Professionally, I am driven and devoted and eager to grow and hopeful that I too can be a school leader one day. There have been many moments (not days, just moments) when I wonder what my career would look like if I too had been getting this degree. The fact that another couple is in the program together (and has an awesome nanny for their 2 year old daughter) doesn't often help that thinking. But then I come back to choices, and I am confident in the choices we've made.

If I had been in the program too, Will would have been with a nanny more than with us.
We would have been doubly broke.
I would never have developed such a close friendship with Maresa, and Will wouldn't know Mac as well.
This year would have been STRESSFUL for our family.
I would have been going to school with Clay's ex-girlfriend (I'm over it, but still, no thanks).
I wouldn't have experienced as much of NYC.
I would have missed Ali's wedding.
I wouldn't have been able to visit my sister in SF.
I wouldn't have enjoyed nearly as many runs around Central Park in the mornings.
And because it counts way more than twice, I wouldn't have been with Will.

On my way out the door tonight after our now-daily hang-out sessions, Maresa smiled at me and said, "I like living life with you."

Exactly.

Knowing all that I know about this year, would I have made the same choice? To quit my job and leave my friends and invest our savings in this program for Clay? Hell YES. Wouldn't change a thing. Not a damn thing.

Would I choose to go to UVA again? No doubt in my mind. It gave me some of my greatest friends.
Would I choose to work at Saint James after college again? You better believe it. I met my future
     husband.
Would I choose to marry Clay again? It's only the best decision I ever made. He makes my life.
Would I choose to move to Chattanooga and work at an all-girls school again? Yes yes and yes. It
     changed who I am as a teacher, coach, and friend.

I am a big believer in everything happens for a reason. I may not know what my career is going to look like or whether I am developing my resume in the way that I should, but I do know that if I follow my heart and what I know is right, I am making the right choice.  And I also know that no matter what direction that choice takes me in, I have the power to choose to be happy. That doesn't mean it's easy. And that doesn't mean that I don't think all the time about the choices (sacrifices?) other stay-at-home parents are making, other job candidates are making...really, the choices that everyone is making around me all the time. Making choices, especially life-changing ones, can be overwhelming, and I give people so much more credit for the decisions they've made than I used to.

My sweet Will chooses to be happy every morning when he wakes up. It's life-giving, really. I walk into his room, so bare and full of moving boxes, and without fail, his face is beaming. And all of the choices I've ever made in my life fast-forward me to his side and give me the ability to wrap him up in my embrace and call him mine--and to know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

Here's to the next choice: Louisville!