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When a Milestone Becomes a Rest Stop

August 21, 2017 Rachel Nevergall
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I pour the lavender bubbles into the bath. The morning light is streaming through the window which means I don’t have to turn on the ugly sconces. Natural light against bathroom tile is my jam. They think morning baths are a treat, like having your own private indoor pool. In truth, day time baths are really for me. Its a reset button to a cranky start to the day, a wind down before nap to wash away the sweaty morning, an afternoon distraction to fill the dreaded gap before dad and dinner. 

I plop them in, both feeling heavier to me than I expected.  Not the chubby little babes they once were, easy to swing from hip to hip and floor to bath, but now child and toddler with hefty muscles and awkward limbs. I can feel the exhale as each one hits the warm water, from them and then me. It’s one of the mom reflexes, I think, the relaxed sigh following her children’s sigh. I remember it from the newborn finally succumbing to sleep stage. And now, far too often, the tantruming toddler finally forgetting what he was upset about stage.

For a second I almost wonder if maybe I should join them. It does look, and smell, lovely. But then I remember a porcelain tub from the ‘30s does not leave room for a third body. And also, I have that laundry to fold, and those dishes to rinse, and actually, let’s be honest, that social media to scroll through whilst drinking my partially warm coffee I never get to enjoy. This is, after all, why I love the day time bath. An easy entertainment for the children leaving room for just me and my own thoughts, or podcasts, for but a moment. 

I sit down to first begin the laundry folding. Something makes me stop. 

Maybe it was the sweet conversations between the two as they offered toys and ideas for play. 

Maybe it was the way the light was coming in making his hair seem whiter than usual. 

Maybe it was the look I saw on her face that gave my heart an instant pause because I could have sworn just yesterday I was scrubbing the cheeks of a babbling toddler and now a full grown girl seems to have taken her place. 

I sat there for 5, 10, maybe even 15 minutes of precious do-all-the-things time and just watched them, listened to them, smiling at them from a distance because I knew if they were to see me seeing them the moment would pass. Instead of checking off my to do list, or worse, falling down an Instagram rabbit hole, I took it all in, probably with that ridiculous half smile half pained look on my face that accompanies every parent on the cusp of their child’s next milestone. 

You know the one I’m talking about it. You can see it on the parents’ faces at the first birthday party. It’s the same one at the high school graduation and during college drop off days. And it’s the one set across many faces of those sending their child with a backpack too big for their tiny body into a school for the first time as their Kindergarten teacher leads the way. 

We’re about to be those parents, the ones with shaky smiles on their faces and achy hearts inside their chest. First day of Kindergarten is next week. And while I have known this milestone was on its way for a good while now, it seems there hasn’t been enough room in my mind, or heart, to process this fact. A fifth birthday will do that to you. This weekend she took a great big breath, blew out all five candles, and with it blew in the realization that this one who made me a mother is about to do something really big. 

And so here it is, on my bathroom floor, with that thought decorating my mind, I find myself pausing a little bit longer. In the calm and quiet I savor their sweetness. I reminisce a little and feel grateful. This is a familiar place. I often repeat this ritual at birthdays, first events, and most recently, all the last events too. 

It made me think that milestones, while important for growth and progress, are also really great for slowing us down. I am realizing, as tough on the heart as they are, I need these milestones in my life. I need an excuse for a pause, to stop chasing what’s next, to find a place for breathing it all in. Life becomes a little more special when we remember how fast it is moving and force it to slow down. 

In running, we have milestones too, sometimes quite literally. A mile marker telling you how far you have come. Generally, when one sees the milestone, it’s a push to keep going. “I got this. Only X amount more miles to go. Let’s make it to the next one.” I never stop at a milestone. But I do stop at a rest stop. When training for a marathon, I was taught to pause at each water station, even if I wasn’t thirsty. I would walk, drink water, take a deep breath, and then keep marching on. It never slowed me down. It was only for a few seconds and it was always just what I needed at that moment to keep going. I am grateful for those rest stops.

Maybe from now on, with my children, and me too, I ought to stop thinking about the growth and change as milestones to pass by but as rest stops. With each new moment for the books, a chance to pause, to slow down, to appreciate. 

I’m thankful for that chance now, amongst the bubbles, and puddles on the floor, and wet squirmy bodies to wrangle into clothes. Even if the tears next week don’t make it seem like I am.

← The Kids are AlrightWhat is Saving My Life Right Now →
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Hi there! I'm Rachel.

I believe each morning is a fresh start and I believe hot coffee is step one. 

It is here that I celebrate each day as an opportunity to seek the creative inside both our children and ourselves so that we can all       raise and shine. 

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If I showed you the sweet picture of the hairstyle I gave her for crazy hair meets Valentine’s day, would you also believe me that I don’t remember when she last bathed?

If I shared the fun crafty Valentine we made for his class would you also believe me that my house looks like a fraternity house at the end of a raging party?

If I show the darling babe all snuggled up under my chin that makes my heart burst with unspeakable joy, would you also believe me when I say parenting three is the hardest thing I have yet done in my parenting life?

Sometimes in these little squares, I have so much fear that I might post something that makes someone’s heart shrink a little bit with guilt or inadequacy. I worry you will think I am something you are not and that will make you feel smaller than you deserve to be, when in fact I struggle too. So much.

But then, if I keep quiet, not only am I not allowing myself to show you exactly who I am, how I like to love on my people, and what just makes me happy, I am thus not leaving space for you to do so as well.

If these things brings you joy, too, hurray. If something else does, I celebrate you. And if you aren’t in a space of joy, I’m sitting her with you too. And sending you ❤️. Never alone.

This has been my struggle for years. I saw self care as (by my)self care. And it seems it only got harder and harder to care for myself as I fought to be alone.

And so I’m trying something new. I’m learning to find the peace I need in my day right along side them.

So I move WITH them in tow. I read to THEM, as long as it something of MY choosing. I pick up a paint brush too when they paint.

And hopefully all this togetherness is teaching them what matters to me and my day too.

Shared on the blog today how I practice my *What Feels Right* list from yesterday when I can’t be alone.

What’s your go to care strategy when your little ones tag along? I test as a Highly Sensitive Person. 🙋🏻‍♀️Anyone else?

I like to think of myself as a noticer. From the way the snow sounds when it hits the ground to his sweet sigh as he nestles into sleep in my arms. I feel it all. And I mean ALL.

This can be a beautiful way to look at life, but it can also be EXHAUSTING.

But I decided to start using this skill for the better. I started to pay close attention to my day to notice patterns of when I feel off and when I feel right.

My list is not revolutionary. It is nothing you don’t already know to be true. But sometimes we need to really acknowledge the simple ways we can manage our days to feel joy, to feel peace, to just feel right.

Sharing my list of What Feels Right on the blog today to maybe inspire you to pay attention to your own list.✨Now your turn...What Feels Right to you? Yes his sweatshirt is on backwards. Yes this happens on the regular. It’s become his signature look. But the important thing is he got himself dressed and no one had to use their angry voice!

I am quite excited to introduce a new series on the blog today called ☀️Raise your Mom Game☀️ It’s a way to share the great ideas learned from regular, cool, smart moms (and dads) like us. I believe parents are super heroes with powers to battle the everyday parenting struggles. And they are willing and happy to share these with fellow superhero parents so we can all win.

It’s not about the quick fix, because none of us are broken. We just sometimes need a fresh perspective to tackle familiar challenges in parenting, another play in the playbook, tool in the toolbox, option in the portfolio. Am I giving you enough metaphors here?

Today, I go first with my big frustration in getting kids dressed. I feature two great ideas for both of my kids from fellow parents @kelseywilliams and @ladderica. And I filmed one in the stories so go check it out. After you read the post, of course 😉. And remember, this is a village. So please share with me how you are Raising your Mom Game. And what helps you Shine.☀️ “...I make so many beginnings there never will be an end.” Louisa May Alcott

She opened up 6 crisp white books, completely blank, exactly as she asked them to be, for writing down her own stories. Obviously I was thrilled to grant this Christmas wish. It wasn’t 5 minutes later that I turned around to find her set up at the dining room table, pen in hand, words flowing to the book. “Now you realize these are special, right. You can’t throw them away and start over if it isn’t just as you want it to be.” “I know.” Barely glancing up. Back to work.  Her confidence and self assurance just taunting me.

She has no trouble diving in. She doesn’t worry about where the ending is taking her. She doesn’t hesitate and doubt herself along the way.

She just BEGINS.

It is with this same resolve that I choose to take with me throughout this new year. To not hesitate with my step one. And to not be afraid to be new at something.

Last year I explored being enough. And with that I determined, there is also enough time, space, energy to take more step ones.

To BEGIN.

Introducing my 2019 word of the year ✨BEGIN✨ on the blog today.

A month in and I already love where this word is taking me. My skin is still soft from the humidity of Texas, and my heart, and stomach, are full in the way only a winter escape can bring. But it feels right to be home. It feels right to see snow softly falling in February. And to be all piled up together as a family again. ❤️❤️❤️ You know that welcoming feeling you get when you go home to mom and dads?

They make you your favorite meals. You take comfort in the familiar space. You just feel so warm and loved and cared for.

We got that welcomed feeling when we made it back to our old home in Austin town this weekend.

We had all our favorite meals, barbecue, tacos, queso, more tacos. Memories flooded us around every corner, date nights, family adventures, milestones crossed. And most importantly, we got to feel loved by “family,” or rather the friends that became family when you needed it most.

This is how it should be when you make a place a home, no matter how short the time was in your life. It should make itself a little home in your heart and always open its arms wide to you when you come back.

So glad we will always have Austin.

And tacos. 🌮 Confession time... I sometimes daydream about being a mom of just one baby.

Not that I don’t love each and every one of my kids more than my heart can even find words for, because obvi I don’t even need to clarify that for you.

It’s just that this multiple and different needs thing all at once is very very hard on my brain capacity. And also my heart.

I sometimes dream of a world where I get to have each of my babies one day at a time. And then we all come together for one big epic fun filled Sunday as a family of five. Wouldn’t that be fun??!! But then I see the oldest reading a book to the middle. Or the middle tickled with himself at how he can make the baby giggle. Or there’s the epic family snuggle sessions in the king size bed before someone, all of them, demand breakfast. And then I remember we are right where we need to be and who we need to be with.

But also sometimes it’s super fun to just be with one. We snuck away together with our baby to a place that still has a piece of our heart, Texas. And while I miss the other two, it feels like a gift to enjoy that stage where it’s just you and me and a baby makes three. I can hardly remember him that tiny, but I’ll never forget when she started reading to them. 📚 Reading creates strong memories, doesn’t it. “For some it’s a physical place in which I remember reading. The beach, the hammock, the couch under a blanket. For others, it’s a place in time. A difficult pregnancy. A foggy newborn stage. A challenging stage of parenting. And for some, it’s a moment that I realize is one of a momentous milestone. Like seeing her read a book for the first time. Or reading our first chapter book series together.” Eighteen Memorable Book Moments in 2018 on the blog today. The answer to snow-mo and other FOMO related cases (see last post if you are confused 😊) ?? Be a noticer.

As promised, I shared about my process of creating a Reverse Bucket List on the blog today.

You don’t need a fancy planner, a complicated system, or even a lot of time. You just need a photo storage system of your choice, a few questions I list in the post, and a couple of minutes to do some thinking.

It’s my own way of doing goals and reflection. But I would love to see what you learn too. So I’m creating a hashtag!! Tell me how it works for you with #raiseandshineandnotice 🥳
“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away”
— Pablo Picasso
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