You’ve been one, you know one or you have one. And nothing  prepares you to raise one. Not your own life experiences, not lectures from your parents when you were fifteen, and certainly not a book. I wake up almost every day with a weight on my heart just heavy enough to remind me that there are two of these beautifully complicated creatures living in our home, snacking at all hours of the day and night, staring at screens of garbage,  knowing everything and hell bent on keeping those Snapchat streaks alive. God Himself entrusted my husband and I to raise them so we take it pretty seriously…I thank Him often for this most precious gift, usually through clenched teeth.

In emoji laced texts (girl with hand on face is my go to) and sometimes hilarious, sometimes heavy conversations with the other exhausted caregivers, it seems most of us are ill prepared to handle the attitudes and messy bedrooms and unchaperoned trips  and solo driving.  And I’m here to tell you why. Because you don’t know until you know.

You don’t know the worry, need to protect or constant shift of emotions until you are watching your 16 year old daughter carefully side step shifting land mines in the hallways of high school. You don’t know the enjoyment and equally paralyzing fear when your 14 year old son starts dating and playing football.  You don’t know the fury of words that will roll off of your darling tongue when you ask your big babies to clean that up or look at me when I’m talking to you or WHAT did you just say? You don’t know the pride that will well up in your heart when a teacher tells you they see your kids’ potential and knows they are going to grow up to be good humans. You just can’t possibly know that real, unconditional, heartbreaking don’t make me smack you take a bullet for you love until you are given this fragile package of parenthood, especially in the eye rolling ugggghhhhhh years.

Real talk? These years will break you if you don’t lean all the way in. Like dig deep, buckle up, go hard no holding back all the way in. They will for sure work every last nerve like they are getting paid for it and they will most definitely make you so incredibly proud you’ll ugly cry and full on embarrass them. You’ll find the balance. And on the days you just cannot, find chocolate or mindless television or exercise or even that spot where you cry it out (I shift between the car and the laundry room).

Learning and adjusting our parenting is necessary as they move from middle school to high school to whatever comes next. On any given day we could be killing it or blowing it…what it looks like today will change by next week. But there are a few things we try to keep in rotation in hopes they will understand that we were on their side all along. An excerpt from the Bailey Parenting Guide:

1. Tell them you love them everyday. Even when you don’t. I like to end a good lecture or a stern no with a but I love you.  Imagine their sweet faces (and stair stomping).
2. Apologize when you are wrong.  Because a time will come when you find yourself giving a 4 minute lecture over a lost sweatshirt and what you’re really mad about is a rude driver and cleaning up the mess of whatever your dog chewed up for the twelfth time. If you learn to apologize, they learn to apologize.
3. Pick your battles. Know when to show no mercy and when to give them a win.  If you are in their ear every single time they screw up, they are  going to shut you out and it’s really really hard to get them back.  Find the space between house arrest and do better next time.
4. Have ridiculously hard conversations.  Peer pressure is legit and it will make your lovely babies do really ugly things. The world is telling them at every click what they are supposed to look like, act like, grow up to be like. Your job is to filter  through all the noise, remind them of their worth and tell them the truth about drinking and drugs, controlling their hormones and consequences.
5. Laugh and listen. Laughing with my husband and kids is quite possibly the best part of my life. Do I love hearing about who the best wide receiver in the NFL is  going to be this year? Do I want to watch a YouTube video about a family buying new furniture and literally documenting every second? Not even a little bit. But you wouldn’t know it.

Just three days ago my daughter and I spent the best afternoon cleaning out her room and putting shelves together talking about anything and everything. The next morning a spoon flew in front of my face after a fun exchange of words about something I thought was very important and she thought was very stupid. As for my son, we are on a bit of a break while he works through the need to be right all of the time. He let’s me in every once in a while with a gigantic hug and small talk while I’m Ubering him around and making him food with cheese. See?…balance.

Love. Love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Adulting is hard work. The day in and day out with the bills and the ten thousand steps and parenting and what’s for dinner and dusting and the commute and the dog that has no chill and the neglected self care and writing down three things you’re grateful for each day.  I need a nap just thinking about it.

Then on top of all the pressure we put on ourselves to create a comfortable life comes the added weight of what strangers and friends alike are thinking about that outfit, your marriage, the paint color in your half bath, the side hustle you keep talking about, the way your kids act in public, your recent post that sort of references politics,  and also why you go to “that” church. Deep breath.

Maybe it’s enough already.  Actually yes, it’s enough. I’m declaring it. We place so much of our worth in all of these other hands. We feel less than because their television is bigger or their kids are excelling in school and sports or they went on two vacations last year. The truckload of all these unhealthy thoughts can make us absolutely think we’ll never do or be enough to keep up much less win the “I am better than you” wars.

If we stop just long enough to see the bigger picture our whole perspective could change.  And okay, maybe you think that’s corny positive psychology.  I did too. Until I tried it more than twice. What I’ve learned from the motivational speeches and self help books and seminars really boils down to this:

Be a good compassionate human with a heart for serving others that is never trying to look or be like another and believing you deserve happiness, whatever that means to you. AND DON’T QUIT on that thing your heart keeps nudging you to do. Doing this over time will attract good things in your life and you’ll worry a ton less about what others think. You’ll even find yourself being a more supportive and encouraging soul. Not all the time, but more of the time. The expectation should make you step up your game not give up on your dreams.

I’d love to tell you that at 44 because I’ve put in some time working on me instead of trying to live up to the Instagram life that I skip out of bed at 6am everyday, throw something in the crockpot my whole family will love,  listen to an empowering podcast while taking the dog for a three mile walk only to return and gently wake my teenage son for school without noticing the pop tart wrapper and stench of sweat/cologne in his room, kill it at work and have dinner on the table by 6pm. But the truth is there are still days where I sleep until the last possible second, the dog could lose a few pounds, and some weeks we eat out more than I cook.  Many days my heart nudges me saying “you can create an advice column” but my brain is paralyzed by the fear of failure and judgement so I just binge watch Dateline and eat my favorite chocolate chip cookies. The difference now though? That no quit thing.

Your life, my life, their life…one is not supposed to look like the next. And how awful would that be! We cannot stop the speeding train that is social media but we can have conversations with the next generation about the importance of healthy competition vs. keeping up with the Joneses.  Every once in a while when I’m feeling ever so slightly jealous or less than I try to remember what determines my worth. Is it the likes on my Facebook post or the actual love of my tribe? Is it the cost of my home or the memories made there? Is it my faith or the fear of being judged by it? Is it how others feel about my marriage and parenting or how I’m actually treating my three favorite humans on earth? A little Q&A could change your whole day, it might even spill into two.

I’d like to think by practicing a little self love and being the same person to all the people (most of the time) the fear of expectation will eventually be expelled with one of those deep breaths.  And for me, when that day comes, maybe you’ll see “mediocre advice giver” next to my name.

Love.Love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The first step to acceptance is admittance.  Hi, my name is Mya and I am addicted to cards. Note, thank you, birthday, blank, sympathy, special occasion…all the cards. I have two drawers full at home, another at the office and I’m sure many more stuffed  in nooks and notebooks hoping to be discovered at just the right time.

I wasn’t always hooked on them.  I began exploring in my early twenties. I got my first office job and my boss would take every opportunity to congratulate me on a job well done, send sympathy and well wishes with the most perfect words, always shining her sweet light.  I wanted to make others feel that way too.  And so it began.

It started innocent enough with the birthdays.  The list was small at first but it was hard to keep it under control.  Before I knew it, I was up to eighty a year. It felt so good the happy escalated pretty quickly into other occasions, sometimes even just because.  I once spent hours over the span of a few days sending grateful cards to every person that brought a meal, sent a gift or shared time with me while I was recovering from surgery to remove stupid cancer from my thigh. I wrote out each one finding just the right words and all the love that my heart could hold.  I actually shed overwhelming tears.  Too much? Don’t care. I’m in so deep I can’t feel your judgement.

And sure, I’ve dabbled in journals, composition books and cute little scratch pads but nothing beats the high of a card that lets your people know you appreciate their existence.  I also need to admit I’ve fallen off the wagon from time to time because well, teenagers and laundry.  But there’s always that 18 pack of gorgeous note cards on clearance or a friend who needs encouragement that brings me right back. My favorite part is just hoping they feel a little more loved.

Before I go and get my fix by sending a belated happy to my niece who just celebrated 22 years on earth, comforting thoughts to my mama and her siblings who said a heartbreaking goodbye to their little brother only weeks ago, and to my friend I couldn’t do life without I want to share a few final thoughts…

Saying a thank you is a major big deal. Sending a thank you not so much.  You should  speak thankfulness every chance you get. If you teach the young ones to say it they will do it half the time now but over the years they will do better. Sending a card though can get out of hand real quick (you send a thank you, they say thank you for the thank you, it gets dumb).  As a matter of fact, if I ever do anything for anyone that is reading this, don’t send me a thank you.  There, that’s one less.

Keep the cards others send to you that make you feel something…it’s priceless to look back on them when you need to smile or have a good cry. I have one I carry in my bag o’ stuff that my grandmother Odessa wrote to me many years ago just in case I need her preciousness that day.  I keep a box overstuffed with every note my husband has ever written to me and I have so many others that have the best words from my village. Priceless.

It really doesn’t matter if it’s homemade or Hallmark, if it already has the perfect words or you’ve added yours, if you mail it or leave it on the porch, or if you’ve sent the same card to same person three times (right, Mom?)…just put your love in there.  And don’t forget to put those clothes in the dryer.

Love.Love.

 

 

 

I’d love to tell you about how I was born with this deep love of music, how I grew up exploring a whole bunch of sounds but I’m going to level with you. I was a pop girl through and through.  Lisa Lisa & the Cult Jam, Whitney, Prince, Madonna…those were my people.  I did sprinkle in some R&B from the local radio station (I would record the Quiet Storm on my jambox at bedtime), but I certainly didn’t get too adventurous. I was always more interested in what was happening on The Jetsons or General Hospital than hearing the latest record.

Even though I didn’t nurture my muscial tastes early on, I still enjoyed my lane.  I stuck to popular music without even realizing there was a whole other world out there. I do remember being around eight and thinking the cover of my moms J.Geils Band Freeze Frame album was very cool. I remember in high school going to my first concert. Janet Jackson. I had the coral blazer with massive shoulder pads and even bigger hair. I had all the words and none of the moves.  I also remember spending my 20’s letting college parties and bars dictate my musical taste (it was a whole lot of 90’s rap). A few drinks and I swear I would hear “Sure girl, get out there and dance..you got this.”

The best moments so far started well into adulthood, mostly due to marrying a man who would not spend another day listening to Paula Abdul. He shared a whole new melody with me. A few highlights:  dancing with my brand new groom to Otis Reddings ‘That’s How Strong My Love Is’, seeing Pearl Jam front row (didn’t know a single word but Eddie didn’t notice and front row is magical), losing my voice as a new and forever fan at an Avett Brothers show, falling completely in love with the Dixie Chicks, a night with Justin Timberlake and my girls, knowing and singing every word to Snoop Dogs ‘Gin and Juice’ at my sisters wedding and belting out Bruno Mars and Elevation Worship songs in the car with my daughter (she has no choice but to love music being that she’s named after the most famous man to ever sing a reggae song).

I’m happy to report that music sits in the very middle of my life now, I don’t go a single day without it. And also know this:

Motown is my absolute favorite. If you are with me and Poison by BBD comes on, prepare to be entertained. I love when a slow song comes on and I get to dance with my husband and embarrass my kids. I just recently joined Apple music (worth every penny)…I’m constantly building my library and one day I will actually run to my run playlist. Don Henley is the best Eagle. You should find a few songs that break your heart wide open, a good cry never hurt anybody. I will never understand The Grateful Dead (apologies to arguably their biggest fan, my Uncle Alan), it just ain’t all for everybody. I know I sound like a tortured bird, but it won’t keep me from singing New Edition songs at the tip top of my lungs. Ben Harper speaks the truth. And I’m thankful for the music Whitney, Michael, Biggie and Prince left behind.

Maybe some of this brought back memories for you and you’ll dust off an old record, find your box of CD’s from the last decade, or add a new artist to your playlist. Maybe you’ll share your favorite music with your kids so they can cringe and beg you to turn it off. Maybe you’ll find a song that kicks you out of your safe place and opens up a new part of your soul.

And just maybe you’ll let the middle aged lady in the SUV be a rockstar, pop princess or rap queen without judging…she needs this moment.

Love.Love.

There are two times I can remember being really really mean with no regard whatsoever for another’s feelings. It happened in my early teen years…I think this is where most of us earn our stripes.

The first time I suppose I was thirsty for attention from some of the more popular kids because I did not hesitate when they told me to write “bitch” on the back of a bus seat.  Although I don’t remember who I did this to, I do remember feeling super cool. For about a minute. I got kicked off the bus and went right back to my painfully shy life where none of those kids came to my rescue.

The second time I didn’t even realize that I was being hurtful because no one knew about it….until they did. My best friend and I put together a slam book where we gossiped about our friends and not so friends. We felt justified because “why was he dating her” and “I would never wear a skirt that short”. One day I got sloppy and left our hurtful words sitting out which inadvertently found their way into the hands of a friend we talked about in the book. She had no problem sharing it with everyone.  We got what we deserved, which if you’re wondering, was total humilation. And even though all was forgiven as there was more pressing drama within a few days, I crammed MG in my locker at J.T. Williams Junior High School in hopes that I’d never see her again.

Some how she still shows up from time to time. I’m sure my teenagers would love to share a story or twelve. But I know how to shut her down now and oh my goodness it feels so much better to be kind than not.

Now I listen to my gut when it begs me to find a nicer way speak to others. I don’t hang on to “that thing she said” 4 years ago. I give customer service a little grace even when I’ve been on hold for 33 ever loving minutes.  I refrain from impolite hand gestures in 5’oclock traffic (Bruno Mars helps). I give myself two seconds and a deep breath before blurting out ugly words that I know I’ll immediately regret. And I follow our house rule…It’s okay to be mad, it’s not okay to be mean. Borrow that one anytime, it’s a game changer.

I’m determined to set the standard for my daughter and teach her how to be kind and full of compassion while being equally strong and prepared for adulting. There’s some cruel stuff going on out there and just maybe she can help change the narrative.

I share this in hopes that it will at least give you pause when choosing your words and actions next time you feel wronged. The mean girl does not benefit your life in any way.  Like at all. So for you and for all the girls growing up with social media punching them in the face at every turn…leave that bitch on the bus.

Love.Love.

If you don’t have one, you’re doing it all wrong. We are not built to go at it alone.

Your village can be anything you want it to be…big or small, all up in your business or on a need to know basis, family or friends or coworkers or teachers or coaches or mental health professionals (amateurs welcome too) and even that sweet associate at your favorite store that never forgets to ask about your health or wonderfully annoying dog.

Don’t know where to start?  A few suggestions:

1. Admit your weaknesses. Whatever you feel you might be lacking, find that in someone else. This will get you out of your comfort zone…it’s crazy scary good for you.
2. ALWAYS add at least one good listener. And if they also give good advice, uhhh….winning!
3. Include someone you admire…I promise you their wisdom will be invaluable.
4. You must have joy in your village. Someone that makes you laugh (hard), someone that gives mood changing hugs, someone that lights up when they see you.
5. Have a truth teller that you don’t want to slap (hard) for telling the truth.

My village has saved my life, lifted me up, set me straight, supported my good and not so good decisions and loved me through all of the days so far. They have helped to grow my faith, guard my marriage and raise my kids (when your teenager is screaming “you don’t understand!” two inches from your face send them to the village…trust me on this one).  They protect me and I protect them.

So if you already have a village send them some love and a thank you.  And if you don’t, let me know…I’ll be the first to join.

Love.Love.