Mountain Air for the Soul

Our time in the mountains was magical. It was the salve for our weary burnt out souls that we all desperately needed. Nothing puts your worries into perspective like standing at the base of an enormous mountain. The moment we arrived, I could feel the stress rolling off of us in waves. We woke up each morning and drank coffee as we took in the spectacular view of the sunlight creeping across the face of the mountain as the dawn broke.  Our little cabin nestled in the side of the mountain felt like our little bubble, floating above the valley below, miles away from civilization.  We explored the surrounding attractions: Tweetsie Railroad, Grandfather Mountain, and the charming town of Blowing Rock. Of all of our adventures, one of my most favorite things was driving along those winding mountain roads. We watched the tree canopy overhead begin to change from shades of green to oranges and yellows just in the few days of our visit. I got dizzy looked down, realizing how close we were to the edge of the drop off below. We saw so many tiny houses built into the side of the mountain and wondered about the people who live there. Were they as amazed by the mountain’s beauty each day or had the magic worn off and faded into the background with tedium? I can’t imagine!

I hope it’s a trip that the kids remember forever. I know I will, there was so much laughter and fun: making s’mores, doing puzzles, riding the rides at Tweetsie, hiking, climbing, and exploring outside. I’m already planning our next adventure!

I’m Back

It’s back by popular demand. 

Who am I?  My name is Katie. I have 1 husband, 3 boys, 1 dog, a house, a bachelor’s degree in English, a culinary certificate, a part time job serving, a love for all things French, a dark sense of humor, no tolerance for bullshit, a yen to travel, a million questions, and absolutely no idea what I’m doing. 

What will you find here?  Musing of the every day, essays, and maybe even a little dabble of fiction. You might not always like what you find here, but this is me: raw and honest. 

Welcome to my world. 

Minimalism for Friendships

Minimalism is the trend sweeping the nation: women are paring down their closets into capsule wardrobes and Marie Kondo is encouraging us to eliminate any sock that doesn't bring us joy.  I've started to apply the same concept to my circle of friends.  As a mom, my free time is scarce and so I'm choosing to be more intentional about where I spend it.  I am keeping a much tighter tribe these days, and I find it much more satisfying.  I only have a finite amount of time and I would rather invest more in a few quality friends with whom I feel a deep genuine connection than splitting it up amongst a variety of less meaningful friendships.  I would rather have two people to call when I have a problem, than score 1,000 likes on social media.

I've cut loose the relationships which never progressed beyond small talk.  Instead, I am cultivating the kinds of friendships where we are able to be vulnerable and honest.  Honesty can get a little weird with me; I need friends who can appreciate the dark and inappropriate twists that my humor can sometimes take.  

My philosophy on finding your tribe is simple: 

Edit out the ones who waste time with petty gossip and negativity.

Embrace the people who bring out the best in you and remember your stories.  

Those are your people.

Weathering the Storm

There is a painful chapter in everyone's life that they don't read out loud.  This is mine:

With much encouragement from Michael's company to put down roots in Charlotte, we bought our first house in the fall of 2015.  We were overjoyed to have our own little corner of the world.  We threw ourselves into making the house a home.  It had previously served as a rental property and needed a little love.  I looked to Pinterest for inspiration.  We stayed up late, drinking cider, painting the house, and dreaming about the future.

Just a year after buying the house, Michael's company announced that they would be moving.  They weren't sure where or when and didn't have much of a plan.  It was a mess and things deteriorated rapidly.  After months of uncertainty, Michael was laid off.  I was 2 months pregnant.  Michael spent countless hours furiously job searching.  He applied to job after job all over the country, often hearing nothing back.  It felt like we were painstakingly folding resumes into paper airplanes and throwing them into an abyss. He came home everyday, dejected and discouraged.  I tried to buoy his spirits, but my own were sinking.  It was the hardest thing to watch him struggle and not be able to help.  There were a few interviews.  Hopes raised and then dashed.  Life continued as it tends to do, and we celebrated milestones: my sister's wedding, holidays with family, visits from friends, but every joy was under a shadow.

I increased my hours at the donut shop to help pay the bills.  My alarm went off early every morning, and I dragged my aching body out of my warm bed.  My coworkers were wonderful; we had a lot of fun, laughing and being creative in the kitchen.  They boosted my morale, and I'm forever grateful for them.  It was a welcome distraction, but the long hours on my feet left me exhausted.  I struggled to maintain my normal pace, but the undeniable truth is that I was slowing down.  The months slogged by as my belly grew.  I was thankful for a healthy pregnancy, but it was hard to enjoy it when the future was one big question mark.  I longed to nest and plan a nursery, but I didn't know whether we would end up staying.  Between the hormones and the stress, Michael and I fought more than usual.  We were both weary down to the soul with no end in sight.  We were in the middle of a relentless, unforgiving storm.

Adam was born on a chilly Tuesday morning in February, a full 5 weeks early.  He was healthy for being so premature, but I was absorbed by a new set of worries: temperature regulation, nursing, birth weight, jaundice.  That time is a blur.  Adam made progress and after only a week spent in the hospital, we were discharged.  I felt like a bear waking from hibernation.  Spring had sprung.  To my eyes, used to the soft glow of florescent light, the sun was blinding.  Flowers had popped up everywhere, trees were budding, and birds were singing.  The world was renewing, but still we were stuck in the same desolate season of life.  Despite the stress of unemployment, I was happy to have Michael's help as we survived those newborn days together and adjusted to our new normal as a family of 5.  One night Michael and I were sitting at the dining room table, watching the kids play, blissfully unaware of the crushing pressure we were facing. We had both run out of hope.  We agreed that the job search was getting nowhere and we needed to come up with an alternative plan for our family.  Life could not continue this way and we simply could not take one more step.  We went to bed broken and defeated.

The very next morning, Michael got an email from a company with whom he had interviewed months before.  We hadn't heard from them in so long, that we had written them off.  They made an offer.  It had taken 8 months, but the rain was finally lifting and the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon.

Checking In

Well, it's been a while since I've posted. The last year has been hell, but that's a story for another time.  

My name is Katie.  I grew up in West Palm Beach and attended the Universtiy of Florida where I earned a bachelor's degree in English and met a handsome teacher's assistant named Michael.  We got married and moved to San Diego where I went to culinary school to pursue my passion for cooking.  I worked at a fancy restaurant for a couple of years until I found out I was expecting.  We quickly realized that we didn't want to raise a family in California, so we moved to Charlotte, NC, where we have lived for the last 4 1/2 years.  Today I am the mother of three crazy little boys: Carter (4), Logan (2), and Adam (2 months).  My life looks crazy most of the time.  We have an endless supply of matchbox cars, Leggos, and superhero paraphernalia.  I stay at home with my littles, which means that I get dangerously little adult interaction.  I sometimes wonder if I'm slowly losing my mind, but they give the sweetest sticky little kisses.  I don't even come close to getting the recommended amount of sleep, so I rely heavily on lots of coffee, under eye concealer, and dry shampoo to function like a human being.  I still love to cook at home, though my children don't always appreciate my elaborate dinners.  I have a hopeless sweet tooth.  My ideal treat is a French pastry, plain latte, and a really good book.  In my free time (hahahaha), I enjoy reading, running, yoga, and knitting.  

I have been fortunate to meet some incredible people along the way and I am thankful to have friends stashed across the country.  I find myself once again uprooting my family and hoping that it will be our forever home.  I'm looking forward to having a new house to decorate and a new city to explore.

Raleigh, here we come!

Solitude

I recently discovered Yoga on Tap at the Old Mecklenburg Brewery in Charlotte where you can get a yoga class and a beer for $5.  Beer and yoga?  Where do I sign up?  If I could rewrite the ever wholesome "My Favorite Things," it might sound something like this:

Flowing in yoga and sarcasm said,

Crispy fried bacon and reading in bed,

Foaming draft beer and the buzz that it brings

These are a few of my favorite things

Julie Andrews would be properly horrified, I'm sure.

Anyways, I went down to OMB last night to check out the class.  It was basically a warehouse with Christmas lights, candles, incense, a choir, and a thousand yogis flowing together.  We sang, held hands during savasana, and the instructor talked about helping our neighbor and getting "yoga stoned."  These are my people.  

Afterwards, I enjoyed a beer in the biergarten.  As I sat there contentedly watching the clouds drift across the sky by myself, it struck me that in my pre children days, I would have felt awkward and self conscious to do something like that alone.  In my younger days, I was a pack animal, feeling safety in numbers, but as I've gotten older I am comfortable to be on my own.  While everyone else seemed to know each other and were chatting amiably, I was happy to sit back and relax.  These days, I relish my solitude and enjoy the peace and quiet, allowing the world to continue around me while I slow down.  I had a great time people watching and day dreaming.  I left feeling recharged and ready to take on the challenges at home.

Empathy

The news has become overwhelmingly depressing: shootings, terrorism, murder, infidelity, hate, injustice.  Every day it's some new horror.  People have become so self absorbed that they lose sight of the humanity of their neighbors.  Certainly man's inhumanity to man has been an issue since the dawn of time, but it seems to be escalating at an astounding rate.

Technology is an amazing gift.  The Internet has made information and communication available instantaneously.  We can keep up with friends that we haven't seen in years, but are we really more connected?  I think social media has provided us with a false sense of intimacy.  We share our thoughts and pictures, but do we really know those people?  A real relationship has to be based on more substance or we end up feeling hollow and dissatisfied.  We often lose the chance to interact with the people around us because our heads are in our phones (I know I'm guilty of this).  We look for validation in the number of virtual likes, while ignoring opportunities to engage in meaningful dialogue with the people sitting next to us.  We are losing the ability to relate to one another on a basic human level.

If you've ever read the comments section of any online article or blog, you have witnessed the scathing remarks.  Behind the veil of anonymity offered by a keyboard, people feel emoboldened to spew hate that they would never dare speak if they were forced to look that person in the eye.  They forget that the person on the other end of the computer is a living breathing human with feelings.  

I think the solution has to take place at the individual level.  Most people are not capable of changing hearts and healing wounds on a grand scale.  I think each person has to do their part to love their neighbors.  I believe parents are on the front lines of this war.  We have to recognize our responsibility in raising the next generation.  We need to make sure they feel heard and learn to channel anger into something productive.  We must put down our phones and turn off the television.  We need to demonstrate empathy, teach them to identify feelings and communicate, take them outside to experience nature, show them what it means to stand up against prejudice and hate, be kinder than is expected, go the extra mile for our neighbors, pay respect to everyone, even those with whom we disagree.  We need to raise them to recognize and honor the dignity of each and every person.