So Long Livenshire

In 2004 I was 23 years old with twin baby girls and a husband, when we purchased our home. My grandfather gave me $3,500 for the down payment and we were so excited to move into our house a month shy of our girls’ first birthday. We bought the house for $98,000. It was perfect for us. We threw the girls a birthday party right after we moved in and my brother even brought a horse for the petting zoo in our backyard. I felt like we were making it!

About 8 months later I quit my job to be a stay at home mom. Soon after that many of my friends started having babies too and I became somewhat of a preschool/daycare. Lots of littles came through my door everyday and I LOVED it. I did this for 8 years. Even after the twins started school I did it all over again with Maizy. 

Our little house was definitely lived in. It was hardly ever quiet or calm. We made art, we rode bikes through the neighborhood, we played in the backyard on the swingset, we ate dinners outside on the picnic table, we caught lightning bugs in the summer and splashed around in the sprinkler. We grew up together there. We spent Covid lockdown there. We made mistakes, we made messes, we laughed, we opened presents from Santa on Christmas mornings, we baked cookies and I watched many interpretive dance sequences performed by the kids from my dining room table. I watched my girls grow from babies to women there. We did that together for 21 years.

In recent times I developed a love/hate relationship with the house. I loved it because of the sentimental side of myself but I hated it for the energy, time, and money it took to keep it up as a single mom. Six years ago, my husband and I got divorced. In the divorce decree it states that when Maizy graduates high school we must sell the house and split the profit. Maizy is a junior in high school so I still had time. However, I woke up one morning about a month ago and I felt as if something was pushing me to move. I made up my mind to sell and that is SO unlike me to make a decision and stick to it without changing my mind a million times or worrying myself to death about making the wrong choice. 

During the course of the sale everything went exactly as planned which is definitely not something I am familiar with. Usually everything I try to do turns into a disaster and a worst case scenario situation. Sometimes we even laugh about it because if we don’t, we will cry. I took this as a sign that I was doing the right thing. When we left our home for the last time I cried, not because I was sad, but because I was grateful. How lucky am I to have had the privilege of raising my kids in this home. It wasn’t always pretty but I did the best I could. 

We moved into a small rent house last weekend. The twins will join us after school ends this year. Even though we have lived together by ourselves before, this time it feels different. This time it is just ours and we make the rules. There is no trace of sadness or reminders of a life that didn’t feel like mine. Even though this will most likely be a short season in life, I will cherish every minute I get to have all of my favs under one roof. In the words of Taylor Swift, “There’ll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you.” So long Livenshire, you served us well. 

Old House Memories

New House Things that make me Happy! Come visit!

Checking the Bag

Checking the Bag

Hi, it’s been a while since my last post. I was not aware of how hard momming is when your kids are young adults and you yourself are also a young adult. (Humor me, I am still learning too.) So no, it does not get easier, contrary to what I was previously led to believe.

Currently, I’ve got two 22-year-olds about to finish college, and by the end of this week I will also have a 17-year-old high school junior. It is a far cry from my posts about the forgetful tooth fairy or what came out of the mouth of my toddler. This stage is a different kind of hard. It is fragile—not fragile like a flower, but fragile like a bomb. This is the stage where you switch from the driver’s seat to the backseat. It’s when they look to you for advice, not answers… and the things they are asking aren't little questions like, “Should I paint my nails red or pink?” They’re big ones like, “Should I move to <insert state> after graduation?”

(For the record, if my kid ever asks me nail-polish advice again, I will happily frame the moment. Those were simpler times.)

Anyway, I say all of this because I'm not sure I'm giving the best advice anymore. When I was younger, I used to believe people in general were good. My mom always told me she trusted me until I gave her a reason not to, and I lived by that theory as well. But as I’ve gotten older, situations and people have given me a different perspective. I’ve become someone who jumps to the worst-case scenario, trusts very few people, and keeps an unusually small circle because… well… people can be generally terrible.

This is my jaded view of the world, and I hate that I might be flinging it onto my kids like emotional glitter—except instead of sparkly and fun, it’s dusty and existential.

Let me explain.

This past weekend my twins were visiting from college to celebrate my youngest’s birthday. I picked them up, they stayed the night, and I drove them back the next day. During the hour-long drive, we ended up having a bit of a deep conversation. I noticed it then—my immediate responses of “You can’t rely on people” and “You have to think about yourself first” were rolling out without hesitation. I was basically handing out worst-case-scenario pamphlets like a doom-filled Girl Scout cookie seller.

Later, after I got home, my youngest wanted McDonald’s for dinner. She picked it up and noticed they didn’t put the sauce in the bag like she requested. I asked her if she checked the bag before she drove off. She said no. My response?

“You always have to check the bag. You can't trust anyone.”

And the thing is… I wasn’t kidding. If you leave that drive-thru without confirming your sauce, you are living on the edge. That’s chaos. That’s danger. That’s nuggets without sauce—and no one should live like that.

But later that night, as I replayed my conversations with my girls, I felt sad. I’m always making sure they know what could go wrong, but almost never reminding them what could go right. Yes, you MUST ALWAYS check the bag at McDonald’s (this is not up for debate), but it was the principle of it. When did I start checking my metaphorical bags? When did I become so untrusting and cynical? And why?

Being a mom is wanting more for your kids than you had. It’s protecting them at all costs. It's wanting them to make the right choices and not be scared to take on challenges. But here’s the truth: you have no control over that. You think you do in how you raise them, and you might influence them some, but you have no real control over who your kids become or the choices they make.

My kids still believe people are generally good. They trust and love and walk through life with positivity. I don’t want to ruin that. They need to decide their worldview themselves. Maybe they’ll end up trusting less or being more cautious, but that should be their decision, not something I hand them like a family curse.

I will always try to guide them in a way that benefits their lives, but I have to remember that my experiences are not theirs. Their future doesn’t need to carry my past.

I’ll close with this: if I collected my “two cents” in a jar every time my kids needed advice instead of giving it away, one day I might have enough to eat somewhere fancier than McDonald’s. And in that case, there would be no worries about missing sauce.

That sandwich though

Why am I driving down the highway in the pouring

rain on a Wednesday at 1:00am trying to choke

down a Buccee’s BBQ sandwich while blasting

Radiohead’s Creep trying to keep myself from

falling asleep? The answer is easy and I can’t

really complain about this “adventure” I’m

having because it is 100% my fault. Let me explain. 

When I was kid I was a big worrier. I remember

when I was 8 years old I watched the movie

Beaches, and I became convinced that my

mom was going to die after that and I wouldn’t ever

let her leave the house without me. I could

never fall asleep and I always thought someone was

going to break into our house in the middle of the night.

At school we would have fire safety month every year

and for weeks after I believed our house was going

to burn down. It was bad. But as I got older that

faded away and I wasn’t really like that anymore.

As a matter of fact, I will be taking things I did in

high school to the grave with me and Emily Palmer

has sworn to me she is too! I don’t know what

caused the shift with me but I was ok until…..

If you have kids you know, but if you had a baby

that had to stay in the NICU for a significant

amount of time, you REALLY know what I’m

talking about. The day the twins were born my

anxiety began to harass me like the AT&T

salesmen at Sam’s on a Sunday afternoon. Every

day in the NICU there was a new test that needed

to be run on them, or a disease that needed

to be ruled out. There were always alarm bells

going off every time my babies moved and at the

end of the day I had to leave them there and go

home hoping that when I came back in the

morning they would still be ok. It was devastating

and scary and if there is such a thing as

NICU PTSD for parents, I have it! Anyway, from that

moment on I was a worrier again.

Sometimes it gets really extreme and I never

know what random thing it will be for the day. I will

say Web MD is the devil. Mostly my anxiety is

directed towards my family. Every week I am

convinced of a new critical illness my dad has or

I will watch a Tik Tok video of someone

explaining an accident they were in and I just

KNOW that is going to happen to me or my mom

or my kid. It’s ridiculous and all consuming and

I hate it. But it is what it is. 

So, when my nineteen year old twins decided to

purchase $25 concert tickets you would think

that I would be able to say “ok well have fun

and be safe” and let them figure out how to get

there and back by themselves because they are

adults and capable of that. Well, my brain

doesn’t work that way. Instead my brain works

in the way where I have to choose to either

make myself sick worrying about whether or

not the Uber Drive will kidnap them or just take

them myself despite the fact that it is a

Wendesday and my alarm for work will be going off on

Thursday morning at 5:00am. I chose the latter.

My plan was good and included minimal stress

on my part. The plan was to have the girls drive

from Denton to our house at noon on Wedneday

afternoon so that when I got home from work at 5:00

they would already be here. The doors opened for

the concert at 7:00pm and it was located in Dallas

near the downtown area. This was the first problem.

I had to drive them downtown during rush hour after

working all day and if you work in a school district you

know the week before spring break is CRAZY! So anyway,

the plan was in motion. I drove them there, came

home, helped Maizy do all the missing

assignments she put off until the last minute,

and then at 9:45pm I left to go back and pick them up. 

The minute they get in my car it starts raining. Hard.

This isn’t good since I am already a bad driver by

nature but add in astigmatism, slick roads, and traffic

and you better be prepared for a little nausea. If you

aren’t familiar with the area, Dallas to Denton

(where the girls go to school) is about an hour drive.

On the way they mention that they didn’t eat dinner

and they are hungry. I told them I would stop at a

McDonald’s on the way since it was late. I get really close to

Kenna’s university and I find a McDonald’s. I stop and get

them food and take Kenna to UNT. I drop her off and

head to Avery’s school. As Avery is getting out of

my car I get a phone call from Kenna’s roommate.

It’s Kenna and she says she left her phone in my

car and she needs it so I drive back to UNT and

drop off the phone. By now I am almost out

of gas and normally I would chance getting

home on what I had especially since it was

late and still raining. But, I was hungry too and

there was a Buccee’s really close to where I was.

I drive there and fill my tank full of gas and

go inside for a chopped brisket sandwich IYKYK.

I start my journey home with my BBQ sandwich

that is dripping all over me. By this time it’s already

well after midnight so I blast Creep by

Radiohead so I can keep my eyes open and I

finally make it home around 1:30am. I fell into

bed and set my alarm for 5:30 which was only a

few hours away now and I take a minute to reflect

on my decision to inconvenience myself to

calm my nerves, a common occurrence in my

life. The girls’ $25 concert tickets ended up

costing me about $100 in gas and food and

a Thursday at work where I was not pleasant

to be near. And not to mention another drive

back to Denton to pick them up the next day

since their car was at my house.

So that’s my explanation. Basically being a mom

has turned me into a crazy person and

although it’s a HUGE problem about 97% of

the time, I’m grateful for it all and I’ll happily

accept my seat on the crazy train. Anyone else?

No? Just me? LOL

The hardest thing

 Parenting is hard. And by “hard” I mean the MOST mentally draining, physically exhausting, logistically impossible, time consuming, end all be all hardest thing you will ever do in your lifetime. There are no definitive rules for it or actual step by step instructions. Sure there are thousands of books with opinions on how to do it but really it’s up to you to make sure you are doing it right and no one ever truly believes they are 100% doing it right.

When I first became a mom I had 7 million questions a day. “Why are they crying?” “Why is the poop this color?” “When can I take a nap?” I remember when the twins were little I took them to the doctor so much that the doctor actually sat me down and told me I was the problem. She said nothing was wrong with them and I needed to calm down and stop bringing them in. She was probably right but at the time I wanted to turn her in to the board of doctors for being rude! I did all the things I thought I should do. I quit my job to stay home with my kids and teach them all the things I thought they should know. I took them to the zoo and the park and to play dates with other kids. I read books and researched online about milestones they should be getting close to. I made healthy meals and drowned them in sunscreen. I taught them how to swim and write their names. I potty trained them and taught them how to ride a bike. I put them in gymnastics and dance and t ball. I spent every minute of every day making sure I was doing the absolute best I could for them. I’m still doing this. 18 years later, I’m still consumed by my kids every second. Instead of worrying about them hitting milestones I’m worrying about them driving or moving out in a couple of months. I don’t remember who I was before I was their mom. I remember I was young but that’s about it. I don’t remember what I liked to do in my free time or how I spent my weekends. I’m scared I won’t know who I am when I’m done raising them. And I’m almost done. 

This weekend my girls will graduate high school. They both have jobs. They both will be going away to college in about two months and I will still be their mom but how will that look now? I am so happy for them and proud of all the things they have accomplished but now what? I’m not comprehending this part. I don’t know how to feel or how to act. I want to be excited but I’m so incredibly overwhelmed. I have loved this season of my life with them and I’m not ready for it to be over. I know it’s all part of life but I really never thought about this part. It always seemed so far away. Not anymore. Who will tell me my cooking sucks and my shoes don’t match? Actually, I can always count on Maizy for that but my point is my life will never be the same. In 3 short days my kids will be graduates and moving on with their lives. I will never again have to sign a permission slip for them or have a teacher conference. It feels like they are leaving me behind and my selfish love for them feels like a giant weight on my chest. I’m not stupid, I know kids grow up, but I really thought in the back of my mind that maybe mine would be the exception. Raising kids is hard. But when you are all finished, THAT is the hardest. To all my senior mom friends, I may just be really dramatic and you all are not losing it like I am, but either way just know, you did a good job, you made it, and everything is going to be ok. Congratulations!

When Urine Denial

 Ok so this is going to sound really weird but it makes sense I swear just bear with me. 

So. Imagine you are intentionally left on a beautiful deserted beach with crystal blue water and white sand. You are standing in the ocean just a little ways from the shore with your head up to the sky letting the sun shine down on your face and it’s a perfectly beautiful day. All of your bills are paid, no stress and you are happy when all of a sudden a giant evil jellyfish stings you. It hurts so bad but what can you do? You are on a deserted beach with nothing but yourself and your swimsuit. Then you remember your kids are there on the shore tanning in the sand. You quickly run to them and beg for help. There is no first aid kit so if you have ever seen the Friends episode regarding the jellyfish sting you will know what needs to be done. So you ask your kids which one of them is willing to pee on you to alleviate the sting but despite everything you have ever done for them no one is willing to do it. This leaves you in terrible pain both physically and mentally due to the sting of the jellyfish as well as the sting of your kids’ decisions. 

This ridiculous scenario is an EXACT parallel to my life as a parent right now. I know what you are thinking. How in the world can you make this relate to your life as a parent? I’ll explain. My twins, no longer kids but to the rest of the world, not including myself, are considered adults. They are on track to graduate high school in almost exactly 4 months. When they do, they are both going away to college and I am staying here. I will be continuing to get up every morning and go to work and cook dinner and grocery shop and do all the things I do but minus two kids. I became a mom at age 22. Just a kid myself. I have struggled like any other mom with guilt, decision-making, and just life in general. But no matter what was thrown at me, at the end of the day I got to hug my girls and tell them I love them, and go to sleep knowing without a doubt that they were safe. 

In the past two years, we have grown very close and my kids have blossomed into more than I could ever expect or ask for in a daughter. I love spending time with them and learning about the things that make them happy and sad as well as their desires for the future. I have been standing in the water on a beautiful beach thinking life was great when the sudden sting of reality and their looming graduation got me. Now I know for a fact that at least Avery would pee on me if it meant I could be pain-free but Kenna is questionable. The fact is though that they are excited about this next chapter and they aren’t willing to change plans or shrink because I am in “pain.” I wouldn’t want them to anyway. Of course, I am proud of them and I want them to experience all of the things college has to offer and I want them to explore life and go on adventures. I desperately want all those things for them but also I still want to tell them I love them at the end of the day and hug them and know that they are safe. No one told me this part of motherhood was going to be so hard. I thought it was the terrible two’s or tweenagers. But it’s this. It’s having to come to terms with life-changing and kids growing up and your #momlife identity being a little less mom-ish. No doubt I still have plenty of mommin’ left to do with Maizy but one kid (even if it IS Maizy) is still less than three. 

So if you have been through this season in life and have any advice for me on how to manage please offer it up! With prom dress shopping, senior pictures, and college orientation day all coming up, I am feeling like I would rather take a jellyfish to the leg at this point. 

Indefinite Indifference

    I am an overthinker. I’m not ashamed of it, just annoyed by it mostly. I analyze every detail of certain things and it’s exhausting sometimes. Conversations, meetings, song lyrics, Facebook posts, a friend’s tone over the phone. I can make something simple into something complicated in seconds. Right after my divorce, I did this a lot. It almost drove me insane because as much as I can tell myself something doesn't matter in my head, it can still somehow matter to my heart. 

  I woke up on Tuesday like any other day when my alarm scared me to death at 5:15 am. I took my shower, got ready for the day, took kids to school, came to work, and did the same thing I do 5 days a week. Nothing jumped out at me. I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even thinking about anything in particular except the fact that I had a meeting later that day. My morning started to slow down enough that I noticed a notification on my phone saying I had Facebook memories from this day. I love this feature don’t you? It’s easy to forget how chaotic things used to be when my kids were little and life was a mess. I opened the app to view my memories and see what crazy thing Maizy was doing on this day 10 years ago when all of a sudden it hit me. The date. August 24, 2021. Just another day on the calendar but it would be this exact day 19 years ago that I got married. I wasn’t upset. I didn’t cry. I wasn’t angry. I was indifferent. However, a sudden rush of memories flooded my mind. Nineteen years ago I married someone. We bought a house together. We had kids. He knew my grandparents. He knew my secrets. We went on trips. We struggled with finances, family dynamics, and each other in general. He watched me give birth. He saw me transition from a kid to a mom. We shared a bed, a bathroom, meals, a family, and much more. We were two people who started as strangers and went through all of that just to end up as strangers again. It was only a few seconds that I paused to think about it, but it was what felt like a lifetime wrapped up in the flash of a few memories. 

I have learned it’s really hard to just decide to be “over” something. Especially for the overthinkers like me. There is always something to think about that could have been or should have been. How maybe one different conversation or decision could have made for a better outcome or a different situation. I’m happy with where I am in life right now. I know everything happened the way it was supposed to. I guess my reason for this blog post is not to reminisce on my old life but to celebrate moving forward. The fact that my overthinking, detail-crazy brain woke up on Tuesday oblivious to the date and also the indifference I felt when I realized it, means that I’m in a good place. I can remember in peace instead of in pieces now. I think it’s important to pay attention to your details. The ones you think about and also the ones you don’t. As always, if you need someone to talk to about anything, I’m here.

Brittainy, but not really

 This will be the most honest and real thing I have ever written. I’m writing this in case someone else feels the way I did. Maybe you don’t even realise you do until you read this but if you do, I hope you can take some comfort in knowing things can change.

I have always been a people pleaser. Someone who thought that my life was not my own. I belonged to everyone else but not to myself. It is not wrong to want to make others happy but there is a line that most people clearly have where they say “I’m not willing to go any further” but my line was blurred. I said yes to things I wanted to say no to, I let people walk all over me and thought I had earned it. I tried hard at things for the sake of others. I spent way too much time being afraid of making a mistake. I was Brittainy, but not really. I was outgoing and funny on the outside. I was pleasant and helpful, nice and cooperative. On the inside, I was scared, sad, and lonely. I volunteered for lots of things because that was literally all I had to fill my bucket. I didn’t ask much of other people even those that were the closest to me because I didn’t want to seem needy. If I was sad I would drive somewhere and cry by myself. If I was mad, I would shut the bathroom door and take deep breaths. I would replay conversations in my head over and over trying to figure out if someone was disappointed in me or upset with me. Most days my anxiety kept me from accomplishing things I wanted to do so badly, even on the highest dose of anxiety medication. Fear of failure constantly surrounded me and I could not escape it. At home, at work, out with friends, even just hanging out with my kids I was always a nervous wreck. I pinned a thousand quotes about learning to say no or standing up  for yourself  but I could never apply the words to my own real life. I became obsessed with routine and caring for my kids. I put all my focus into that and my job to avoid having to deal with any issues I was having. I let someone mentally and emotionally destroy me everyday and I did nothing about it. I slowly over time sank into a version of myself that I hated. This went on for YEARS. Lots of years. And nothing would have changed had it been up to me to do it. 

Over this past year I have had to figure a lot of stuff out. I had to do really hard things and have really hard conversations with people that I didn’t want to have. I have learned to let go of the thought that what people think of me should define me. I have become ok with making mistakes and maybe even letting people down occasionally if it is necessary for my mental health. I understand that my kids love me even when I mess up or I am not perfect. And I am never even close to that! I choose for myself now what I will tolerate and what I won’t. I don’t allow people to make changes to how I feel about myself anymore. My anxiety is still there for a lot of things but I try to work through it now and face fears instead of staying inside my bubble and wishing for things to be different. I have discovered ways to stand up for myself without feeling like I let someone down. I have learned to take time for myself and enjoy doing things alone or with the people I love. If I get sad now, I know it’s ok. Of course I’m still working on a lot of things but I can say I love who I’m becoming and while I did have help getting here from people who love me and show me everyday that I am enough, I am proud of myself for finally getting unstuck. 

The takeaway here is if I can do it, anybody can. I was forced into change not by choice and I struggled with it but had I not been, my life would still be a mess. Finally figuring out that you are worthy of good things despite what you have been told or shown is a beautiful thing. Loving yourself for the good AND the bad stuff is hard to do but so life changing. Don’t ever let your own insecurities or the words of others force you to lead a life of unhappiness. Mental health is so important and so are you. Life is too wonderful to only live it halfway. ❤️❤️