Year In Review
I am still learning to love the parts of myself that no one claps for. – Rudy Francisco
Adulting is hard. Add parenting to the mix and it’s not a stretch to see why we demand that our kids be the people we should be, but don’t often demonstrate. If my twenties were about having all the answers and standing resolutely and squarely in control of my future and sense of self, then my thirties have been one l…o…n…g wake-up call. I used to believe in sustained progress. Now, I will settle for microseconds of momentum. My 20-year-old self would’ve been horrified to learn that I recently only penciled in one eyebrow before a deafening cry about misplaced homework and missing shoes pulled me from the mirror and hurled me into the rest of my day short half a face of make-up. My 38-year old self, however, was high fiving the fact that an eyebrow pencil was used at all. Perspective and purposeful parenting are humbling. This year has provided us a healthy dose of both.
Noah, my oldest, and I took a bonding trip to England and Scotland in June before he started junior high school this Fall. Bryan and I began this “bonding” tradition when we realized it might be the last time our kids crave our company before some terrible teenage temper sets-in. Watching Noah seamlessly engage in a new environment from a place of poise and contemplation was a parenting revelation. It made me wonder, not for the first time, which of us was the more mature.
As if that growth mentality weren’t enough, I opened an Interior Design office on Foothill Blvd. in La Canada this year and completed several of our largest projects (more on those later).
Talk about testing maturity. If I thought my journey towards visionary parenting was vulnerable, nothing prepared me for the entrepreneurial one. Fortunately, one job informs the other and both are challenging me to define my best self. It’s a needy, tireless gig. And one, I recognize, my kids are watching.
Bryan, my supportive production manager of a husband, claims only one of us can be exhausted by all this mental growth at a time, so he’s gallantly waiting for the cliffnotes.
Recognizing my efforts to stall time are futile, I have indulged in more bedtime snuggling and PDA than usual this year. So, if you get caught up in one of my more exuberant hugs, know that it is one of two things: I am either feeling the loss of my kid’s childhoods or hiding the fact that I’m only wearing half a face of make-up. Please, be kind.
Merry everything and the happiest of New Years!