The Magic of New Beginnings.

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How we are doing?

I have been getting that question a lot lately. In various forms. How are you feeling? How are you dealing with moving away? How are you doing with the realization that you can’t really come back home? How are the kids doing? How is Dave doing? Just a bunch of…

How are you doing?

And honestly, the answer would totally depend on the day or time you ask me. I’ve cried. And jumped for joy and excitement. I’ve been in total and utter denial. I’ve been cranky and happy. I’ve been gentle with my kids and frustrated. And I have felt guilty for changing everyone’s lives. Oh so freaking guilty.

I have felt it all. And that was just yesterday. Ugh.

But the short answer is this…

I am ready to go. I am excited to feel better. To get off some of these meds that make me feel heavy and tired. I am ready to start living. I am also stressed AF about logistics of packing and moving and selling our house. It goes on the market this weekend! And mostly, I am worried about my littles. And trying so hard to be careful to hold their hands through such a big change.

The kids are excited. Especially the younger ones. Life is such an adventure and they haven’t yet learned to place their security in places. (Thanks to how much we move.) Its all about family to them. And fun. And their excitement for hot Texas nights, swimming in rivers, riding bikes in the street, and FOOD TRUCKS is just so contagious. I am thankful that I get to go through this life with them.

But, Brooks is older. He has some roots here. And at first the news of leaving was not exactly good news to him. He cried. And with tears streaming down his face, he whispered.

“Dad can take care of us. Just go by yourself”

And my heart broke into a million little pieces. I keep reminding myself that he didn’t mean it.

But lately he’s come around. I have involved him in every aspect of this move. I have shared test results from the doctors with him. And let him help me fill my prescriptions at Walgreens. I’ve talked about how the heart and the kidneys work with him. And when I am tired or sick. I am sure to point out to him exactly what my body is doing. He has become a master at taking my blood pressure and loves reporting to me if it is too high or too low. I’ve also involved him in the new house. We have poured over trulia pictures of it and dreamed together how he’s going to decorate his space or what he will play in the back yard. He drives me all over our new neighborhood on google street view. And we point out the houses that look like kids live there.

“Look a stroller on the porch!”

“Hey. I have that scooter!”

or

“Look at that swing!”

And slowly over the last month or so. He has come around. He’s excited to go. And his little heart is filled with so much love for me that now he reminds me of how great it is going to be.

He drew me a picture yesterday. Two hearts with smiley faces and the Texas flag.

“Momma. My heart is going to be happy there and your heart is going to be well. And we are going to have good hearts.”

“Oh I hope so sweet boy. I so hope so!”

Gah! Did I mention I’ve been crying a lot lately? Case in point!

And finally, Dave. I catch him looking at me lately. With this look in his eyes. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s just love. Mixed with sadness. Or pity. It’s a look that makes me know this man is worried about me. And it makes me know he is just so in love with me. And I’ve kind of come to love it. He’s always looked at me this way. But I see it more now. At doctor’s appointments. Or at night when he hands me those little white pills. Or in the morning before he leaves for work. His eyes. They tell his soul. But I know his soul is just as hopeful for this new future as I am.

So in a nutshell. That’s how we are doing.

“And suddenly you just know…it’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.” -Meister Eckhart

Ciao! Girl

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Happy National Doughnut Day!

We Soderbergs know how to celebrate a holiday. And we never miss an opportunity to eat sugary goodness.

So basically, National Doughnut Day just might be top of our list of favorite days of the year.

Now we are off to the pool. Because the only thing better than doughnuts is summer. And summer is here baby!

Happy National Doughnut day! Should be fun coming down from this sugar high.

Ciao! Girl

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Goodbye Denver. Hello Austin.

Today is one of those days where my heart is heavy. That rubatosis is ringing in my ears and my breaths feel deep and slow. The weight on my shoulders just a little heavier.

I sat in the doctor today trying to wrap my head around this life of mine that spins madly on. Do you ever go into a doctor having pre diagnosed yourself? I had created this alternate reality. One that carried all the answers I wanted to hear. But really it went something like this:

Me:

Is my blood pressure as crazy as it feels?

Dr. D:

Yes.

(oh, okay — doctors have a way of easing your worries)

Me:

Is the altitude really effecting it this much?

Dr. D:

Yeah, it really seems so.

Me:

Well, we wanted to come here today to talk about a plan.

Dr D:

A plan for what?

Me:

We’ve decided…

Dave interrupts

Dave:

We’ve just seen over and over again how much the altitude messes with her and we can’t keep doing this to her body, it just doesn’t seem natural. And maybe we’re crazy but it’s felt like in so many words everyone keep hinting that we could have things better if we weren’t here.

Me:

We’re moving to Austin. We already bought a house.

Dr. D:

Oh my goodness, this is great news. You are going to feel so much better. And your life. I really think it’s going to be yours again. I honestly don’t think you will need these meds anymore. You are going to feel so so much better. I really think you will.

 

Her excitement and reassurance almost caught me off guard. I’m not sure why. She, other doctors, my body, God — everyone’s been telling me that this is what would help me. But (and this is where my alternate reality had gone differently) I just assumed she’d say it might help but it’s sort of an overreaction. But nope, it was like she couldn’t simply tell us to move. Because no, I don’t have to. Just like I don’t have to stop looking at my phone when I am driving. But it would probably be smart to quit doing that.

Me:

Oh… wow! Well getting off the meds would be great! And how will I handle coming back to visit Colorado? What is my medication dose?

Dr. D:

um… well…

She basically went on to reinforce to me how much my body responds to altitude. And that by acclimating to sea level and then coming to Denver and continuing on up another 5,000 feet to our parent’s mountain homes I’d be really pushing it. Like, getting dangerous. Like, risk of a stroke. Like, “not be around to see my babies grow up, graduate, get married, and live these beautiful lives to the fullest” type of dangerous. And realistically, she said I already run that risk today. These meds are effective but they’re not miracle workers.

And it all sunk in. I’ve been in and out of the hospital and surgeries and exams and taking these little pills day after day for years now. But it was this moment that it really hit me.

We’re moving. We’re going to Austin, Texas. Right now. Basically getting the hell out of Dodge. Or altitude or whatever. All of the sudden the big things felt small. Those snow capped mountains outside the office window. Our incredible families and their beautiful mountain top homes where we’ve sledded, and ridden a bike for the first time, opened presents on Christmas as it snows outside, played with cousins and aunts and uncles. Saying goodbye to those things has been burdening and breaking my heart. And don’t get me wrong, it’s so hard and it’s so sad. But it just finally sunk in. And it sort of turned my burden and woe-is-me feelings into being thankful for what could be ahead. Dare I say, hope?

And as I am writing this, I couldn’t be more excited. I spent last weekend in Austin with my man. And we walked the city streets. And found the most tiny mid century modern home of my freaking dreams. In a neighborhood where I can picture my children running the streets with the freedom I would kill to feel at this very moment. I want that for them. And I know they’ll have it. I came home from that city wanting to blog again. And connect with others. Something I have been frustrated to crave because most days my body and my heart are just on such different pages. This life I see there. Right now it’s just a vision. A hope. A dream. But man, it is everything. 

And this new place might just turn out to be medication and sick-mommy free. Full of inspiration that I thought only a city like Denver could bring me. But that’s shit. This world is full of incredible and inspiring places. They’re all around us. And I just know that Austin is one of them. The people. They feel like us. Like me. And as much as I’ve dug my heels in and begged the Lord for more options, I just know that there is a life for us over there on the other side of the Colorado River.

It’s new and scary and full of the unknown. But in the unknown lies potential and hope. And dammit I haven’t had much of that lately.

So here we go y’all. TEXAS FOREVER!

My mom keeps quoting the verse in the bible about Abraham going not knowing. Seems appropriate right about now:

By faith Abraham obeyed and went when he was called to go, even though he did not know where he was going. — Hebrews 11:8

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All the Heart Eyes. All the Feels.

So, I know Tumblr has been around for like… forever. And I am suuuuper late to this party. But, I have recently gotten way into it.

I went through a dry spell of inspiration. A drought of purpose and identity. And in some big effort to find myself again I started a private tumblr.

A moodboard of me.

And for months I just posted pictures that inspired me. Moved me. Made me feel something. Anything. I didn’t question it or analyze it. I just posted. It kind of became my morning routine while I sipped on my first cup of coffee. And as that space grew longer, I have come to love just mindlessly scrolling through it. It inspires me to do better. Try harder. And honestly it brought me back to life.

My husband was like,

“Tumblr? Yeah? Why not just go harder on Pinterest?”

… but Pinterest is so Pinterest-y. Everything on there looks like a “Pin” on “Pinterest” (I am on there too though!). Tumblr just lets these epic pictures float on their own. And when you start adding more and more it just slowly builds this wall of YOU. Your vibes.

So… yeah. It’s here: GirlMeetsBabyVibes. And I add to it daily. So feel free to follow along with me. Or don’t. All good. ✌

Next maybe I’ll get on myspace. Keep this time machine moving backwards.

 

If you feel like signing up or are already there, here’s some of my favorites that I’ve come across. They are all sorts of inspiring.

Go Girl, Seek Happy Nights to Happy Days

Show Me Your Mumu

Spell And The Gyspy Collective

Posy Willow

florebazar Boho Style

Aleexandraaxo Bouncing Off Your Walls

 

And since I’m so very behind…send me your favorites!

Caio! Girl

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We Don’t Blog Anymore.

We looked at each other. Dave and I.

“When did this get so hard?”

We just kind of sat there. In little chairs. Our knees bent up uncomfortably. Dressed up in our date night bests.

Tonight we have a babysitter! And a babysitter means dinner and drinks and a tipsy stroll down for ice cream. Can I get an AMEN!?

It’s always a night full of questionable behavior and deep breaths and (most importantly) a break from little hands and hearts that need so very much. All. The. Time. Don’t get me wrong, I love it almost always, but sometimes it’s crucial to put on my big girl shoes and pretend I’ve still got it.

But on this night. Before the “festivities”. We’re here. In a little classroom, in little chairs. Reeling in the seriousness that is parenting. It’s parent / teacher conferences. And overall it went great. Pride for most of it (my smart boy!). And some frustration (seriously Brooks, is it that hard to obey the first time!) But then a deep sadness for some of the things this oldest boy of mine now carries on his shoulders.

And I want to go on. But I can’t. This boy of mine is getting older. And this blog is getting harder. Because while sometimes he still feels like that little baby I remember falling in love with over and over again with each cuddle into my neck. He is now mostly a boy. A kid. An adult? (I don’t know anymore. His mood sometimes would suggest a full on teenager.) And to write out the struggles of a boy old enough to open my laptop and read them himself, feels strange — inappropriate even.

It was all kinds of fun and games raising my babies. And, in hindsight, I loved that stage. The one where you stay up nights paralyzed in fear that they might stop breathing. Where you literally are learning how to handle the love of something so deeply. Where the very thought of it somehow slipping through your fingers leaves you shaking and broken. It was my first taste of parenting. Of the bliss. Of the difficulty. Of learning what to do with that raw and real reality that this little life in front of you is your new life.

I wrote about it. All of it. The heart beats against my own. Those first tastes of peas to that first meeting with an early intervention therapist. I documented it. First breaths. First meeting of siblings. First days of preschool. First asthma treatments. It’s all here on this blog. It’s how I work through my life. My feelings.

But now it’s different. And it’s hard to blog about.

And with that..parenting has gotten kind of lonely over here. Because I am no longer in the phase where this is the place to share what I am going through with missed milestones and making memories. It was such a place to find community in the “parenting”. But things have quickly gone from…

“We’re all in this together!”

to well… it’s quiet here. And I miss it. And I kind of feel alone in it. Even though I know I am not. We just don’t talk about it anymore.

But, I see you, momma, dropping your kid off in car line whispering, “no yellow card today” with a kiss goodbye. I see you working on spelling or reading or math. I see you, momma, reminding your girl to be kind to others. Or your boy to run on his toes. Or obey the first time. And I am reminded that we ARE “all in this together.” We just don’t put it all out there the way we did when they were babies. We don’t own their successes like so many did their breast-fed babies and early walkers. Because those things were achieved because of our own successes as mothers. (or lack there of in my case) And the failures of speech delays and missed nap times seemed so innocent and fixable. And somehow by putting it out there a whole community of support was born to the tune of

“You’ve got this!”

My mom likes to equate the baby phase to the pattern making stage of sewing. Where you get to pick a pattern, and cut the fabric, and sew the dress. There is this excitement to the beginning of making something.

But now. I am in the “sewing the zipper in and hemming the bottom”stage. The part that is well…not as fun and feels like work some times. There’s a lot of dress makers out there that have tons of dresses hanging in this stage. Waiting to be finished.

My mom likes to remind me that you can’t wear the dress until you’ve done those things.

So here I am. Actually parenting. And I find myself surprised with just how hard it really is and how much I still genuinely love it. And I am trying to find a way to blog about the less flashy stuff — the zippers and the hems. Because I still so desperately need to hear and need to say to you,

“Me too momma. Me too!”

Because I know you’re out there and you should know I am here too.

I think this is the part of my writing where I say something deep. I can’t remember. It’s been a while since I blogged. So.. um… closing remarks.

thinking. 

thinking. 

Got it!

“Clear Eyes. Full Hearts. Can’t lose.”

Yep. That will work. ;)

It was that or

“I’m back bitches!”

Ciao! Girl

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