Life. Can. Suck.

Sure, it can be great too. But there’s no denying its suckiness at times.

Last year, Brandon and I started planning the kid-free, work-free trip of our dreams to Hawaii for our 5th anniversary and my 30th. We were already exhausted with the business and the whole becoming-parents-overnight thing.

Real talk: while you wouldn’t have seen it on Instagram, I truly felt like I was hanging on by a thread most days.

Written a couple months ago when I went all the way to Canada to hit the “reset” button. This is what I’m striving for in 2020. Want to join me?

*S E L F C A R E*

It’s one of those blog topics that automatically makes me want to barf it’s so millennial. Then again, I love boots and Starbucks, and I upload pics of my dog to Instagram daily, so I might as well fully embrace the millennialism. I’m currently sitting in Ontario, Canada, with my phone off drinking a pumpkin spice latte (see previous millennial note). I drove here yesterday to try something for the first time ever: explore and relax somewhere random – alone.  

So far today, I baked myself a huge breakfast, sipped a mimosa by the lake, explored the southern tip of Canada at a national park, and ate an oven-fired maple bacon butternut squash pizza (say that five times fast).

Full disclosure: about two hours ago, 26 hours into this getaway of mine, I inhaled a deep breath of Canadian air, and cried a little. 

It wasn’t a long or dramatic cry – just a couple tears. But those tears held immeasurable meaning.

It’s 5:45 a.m. and Brandon just handed me the cute coffee mug I convinced him I just had to have in order to stay motivated to blog last winter. After not blogging for three months, guilt wins the day.  It just feels wrong to sip that $10.99 Francesca’s mug reading “Blogging Day” without really blogging, don’t you think?

Also, it’s bad when your opening paragraph is off-subject already.

Oh, wait no, I think I can make a Segway.

Blogging. I really do love it. I get to ramble through my insane thought processes and then the World Wide Web lets me publish them…for free. People from all 50 states, China, England, Mexico, Iceland – they ALL have access to my blog – because these thoughts are that good (currently my readership is more like my mom and my cousin, but the cousin is in Iowa so that’s a really big deal).

I got off-subject again. Let me retry that paragraph.

Blogging. Why do I have time all of the sudden?

Oh yeah, my husband quit his job last week.

My dog, Izzy, sure is cute, but she isn’t the brightest pup in the land.

So when she saw a skunk at 11 p.m. last night, she decided it wanted to play.

Three peroxide, Dawn and baking soda bath’s later I’m pretty sure she regrets that decision.

Well, I’d like to think that, but let’s be honest- if given the chance, she’d probably go back for round two.

Want to know what is even better about my dog getting skunked? I didn’t realize she was sprayed until she had been in the house 10 minutes. When the putrid smell filled my nostrils after letting her in, I instead spent my time trying to figure out if the tenants upstairs were using Nair on their hairy man legs.

That gave Izzy plenty of time to lay on two couches, two rugs and the carpet in the guest room.

Thanks, Izzy.

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Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest things for us adults, aren’t they?

Trusting.

Forgiving.

Letting go.

Accepting.

Believing.

Relaxing.

I’ve found the older I get, the more complicated those things become. Shouldn’t it be opposite? Shouldn’t growing up and maturing mean getting better at this whole life thing?

But when I think about someone who is able to do all of those things well – trust, forgive, let go, accept, believe, relax…the first picture that comes to mind is that of a child.

A kid.

To be more specific, I think of the kid that was a part of the family next to me at the public pool last summer (side-note: the public pool is a miserable experience past the age of 13). This little boy, probably six, embodied many of these words within just a few minutes.

It all started when he and his little brother, maybe four years old, were taking turns jumping off the side of the pool into their dad’s arms. And by “taking turns” I mean the younger brother kept taking his turn and cutting off Johny (yes, I just named the older one Johny because, well, that’s just a classic kid name and it felt right).