Georgia Love – Page 2 – Mama the Reader

mountain weekend

October 12, 2015October 12, 2015 Katie2 Comments

I spent the weekend in the north Georgia mountains with my closest friends. Fall is just beginning here in Georgia, and it still reaches close to 80 degrees on some days. But it’s close, and you can feel it. A chill in the mornings, and when the sun is dimmed by clouds, it feels like October. We are just on the cusp of something new.

It was almost dark by the time we got to the cabin on Friday. We arrived to turn on the oven and bake the dinner I’d prepped. We lit candles and opened wine and settled into the cozy space that was ours for the weekend. I never miss a beat with these few. It can be days or weeks or months between get-togethers, and it feels like it always ever did. After dinner, we explored the outside of the cabin a bit. Jittery like a little kid with all the darkness and isolation around us. I live in a fairly roomy area of the Atlanta suburbs, but even so, I can forget what it really feels like to be removed from lights and houses and shopping centers and restaurants until I venture somewhere like this.

We talked a lot on Friday about changes and thresholds in life. I read once that we have rituals for all kinds of experiences – weddings, funerals, birthday parties, etc. You use those rituals to remind yourself that a chapter is done and another is beginning, and sometimes if a ritual doesn’t exist for something you are encountering, you just have to invent one. We decided to create some rituals of our own this weekend as each of us, in her own way, is moving forward to something new and burning away the old. The landscape of fog and barely tinged leaves was a perfect backdrop for that idea. A moment to settle in to the reality of what is left behind and what is to come.

Saturday was drizzly and gray all day, but it didn’t bother us in the least. We ventured to a couple of local wineries and enjoyed back country roads.

The second winery we stopped at was tiny and quaint, and they had a small fridge of cheeses and a fireplace when you walked in. After a little tasting, the woman who worked there suggested we buy a bottle and head around the back to the small “grotto” they have with live music. We followed her suggestion, and the rain scared away much of a crowd, so it was almost empty. We talked and laughed and just lingered in that way that wine and music and gray skies inspires. It was perfect.

After staying there for a while, we drove a bit more to find funky roadside pottery and fun spaces.

The very best parts of the weekend were those little nondescript moments though. Huddled in a cabin with rain outside and space to breathe. Space to talk and laugh and share without judgment or expectation.

A friend sent me a text last January with that Cynthia Occelli quote that reads, “For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.” Since then, I’ve thought a lot about the rhythm of seasons and the metaphor of growth in my own life. You go through periods, I think, when all you can do is the next right thing. One after the other. And you do the best you can, but it is painful and you feel buried, so to speak. Your shell cracks and it’s rough there for a while. It feels like complete destruction for certain. But the growth emerges eventually. Seasons change. Life moves forward. You find yourself different and bigger and stronger.

I’m still so uncertain. But I know I’m bigger and stronger, and I know love exists in so many forms. Joy exists in so many places. And nothing feels better than a new season.

renewed, ready to begin again {a quick post}

July 18, 2015 Katie1 Comment

I just got home from a quick trip with some of my favorite people, my very closest friends. And it always amazes me how little time it takes to renew yourself when you are surrounded by the right people.

We decided to book a suite at a winery and resort in north Georgia and pile in it together, and though it was incredibly close to home for most of us, it somehow feels far away when you unplug from your usual responsibilities and surroundings and go somewhere new.

A little wine and sunshine don’t hurt either.

I’ve thought a lot these past few weeks about the perfection masks we wear all the time, the “performance mode” I’ve written about here before. I’m so done with that and the loads of energy it entails, but it’s still scary to show the real face or any trace of vulnerability and pain when I’m with people who don’t know me well. But these women are the exception. I share things with them that I share with no one else in my life right now, and I think we lean on each other in a way that only becomes even more valuable as time marches on.

In short, I love them. And I love who I am when I am with them. I don’t know if there’s anything else better than that really. To make someone better and stronger and to say to that person’s real self, I see you and I hear you and I feel it, too.

I read recently that psychologists say if a friendship lasts seven years, it will likely last a lifetime. And by that rule, I have a number of people who knew me when and know me now and will know me in the distant future when I’ve evolved to something else, too. We are lucky – all of us – to have each other and to have weathered the storms together.

Their stories are not mine to tell, but they are in many ways much harder than the one I’ve weathered this year. I’m beginning to see that everyone is shaped by her own experiences and everyone is fighting her own battle most just never know about, and I feel lucky that this group just keeps fastening even closer together as we change shape with our own life experiences.

As we packed up today and began the ride home, I was thinking about how little of summer is left and how close the school year is. I have anxiousness a bit about Jude starting kindergarten. (Big changes are always a little scary.) But I think in a weird way, I’m ready to begin a new year with a new routine that will soon feel worn and comfortable.

People are always changing, always in a time of growth – if you are doing it right anyway. I don’t want to become complacent. That said, I feel like the intense period of transition is coming to a close for me. I’m something very different from what I was a year ago, but I’m feeling more settled now. I’m finally feeling ready for regular life to take hold again and excited to see what’s ahead.

This summer has been the perfect finish to all of it. Resting in the discomfort a bit, embracing it for what it is, and feeling my way around all of it. This trip was the perfect finale for it as well, resting and renewing my spirit with my favorite people. Onward and upward. I think I’m ready.

morning at the lake

July 11, 2015July 12, 2015 Katie1 Comment

I can’t believe July is nearly halfway over. Every teacher I know gets a little panicked as she sees August draw closer, and I am no exception. August is official back-to-school mode (here in the south anyway), and July always feels like I’m in a race somehow. You can only handle the notion of carpe diem a little bit before it can drive you crazy. Am I doing as many things as I can to hold on to summer? Am I moving fast enough on that list of house tasks I was determined to complete? Am I providing enough fodder for memories for my own kids to reflect on one day? It’s enough to make you feel tired sometimes – just thinking of what you want to accomplish before the academic year begins and wondering how summer is passing by so quickly.

I spent yesterday at the lake with my kids, and we had the best time. Just the three of us and a lot of stillness… which to be truthful is not a word I typically associate with my time with these two. But yesterday was about as close to relaxation and serenity as you can get with two kids under six and one adult tagging along.

They loved exploring the shore to find sticks and smooth rocks and a few swimming minnows and drifting feathers.

You can get overwhelmed with the to-do list when you’re parenting kids of any age, but especially kids this small. Last week had us at the ENT office for a consultation on a tonsillectomy, communicating details about an upcoming summer camp for Jude, and working to find a new speech therapist as a result of a pending kindergarten schedule – plus the usual balance of books and naps and meals and sunscreen and laundry and miles of other regular daily routines. But for once, I ignored most of it for a day, packed a bag with towels and snacks and drove somewhere simple that I know they love. We arrived before it became crowded, and watching them watch the world around us granted me the biggest exhale I had all week.

It was such a great day, and I left feeling full and grateful for a lot of things – my summers off, where I live, and these two. I’m thankful for all of it, and I’m trying deliberately to avoid the hurried feeling of not enough to rest in the right now.

looking forward, looking back

June 25, 2015July 12, 2015 Katie1 Comment

We’ve been busy this week. It’s Thursday somehow – though I feel like the week just started. Life is happening so fast, it seems. In light of many changes for me this year, it is especially unsettling if I think about it too much. If I close my eyes for a minute and think back to being 29 years old as a stay-at-home-mom with a toddler and a house (two houses ago now) and a husband and what I assumed to be a predictable life plan stretched out in front of me, it makes me dizzy to even think about the speed at which life has changed for me. It catches me off guard sometimes, to look around at what I’m encountering every day and know this is my life. Right now. It’s happening now.

Norah is going to a little “ballet camp” this week at my hometown dance studio. It’s a 30 minute drive to get her there, and it’s not a practical solution for a busy school year schedule if she chooses to dance in the future, but for a summer camp, it’s worth the extra trouble to see her learn from my old instructor and interact in that same environment where I spent years growing. I was helping her get ready in a tiny pink leotard and twisting her wispy hair into a bun on Monday morning when I realized that this is it. Life is happening – not at all the way I planned it, but that almost doesn’t seem to matter anymore. It’s still my life, my one shot. And it’s happening now. The day I found out I was having a girl, about a dozen moments filled my head, and this was one of them.

Who knows what the future holds and if she will choose to dance long term as I did, but it was one of those out-of-body moments I’ve discussed before when it makes you catch your breath a bit. This is real. This is life. I’m gong to remember this. Happiness catches you off guard when you aren’t looking. How am I thirty-four years old and dressing a tiny ballerina for her first lessons? I don’t know. Where the past decade of my life has gone is a mystery to me. So fast.

I’ve thought a little this week about nostalgia and that lens we tend to use when we examine the past. I can’t believe it was almost exactly a year ago that I wrote this post. Looking back now, I remember that night and all its details (only because I wrote them down here), and it feels like a thousand lifetimes ago. I feel so much older and a little wiser but mostly just weathered and broken in.

I can’t help but wonder what lens I will see this summer through – as I look back years from now. I know what stings now might not be most memorable in the future. The scrounging food from the freezer to make cheap meals as I’m still paying off attorney bills. The cluttered garage and late-night painting projects. The almost audible, heavy silence I can hear when kids are gone and I’m still not quite used to it. The itchy newness of all of it. I’m wondering if I will look back and see those details, or maybe only remember the sweetness of a new chapter and the exciting newness of being alone and the thrill of possibility.

I don’t know what I will see as I look back, but I do know this is pivotal. This is meaningful. This is life happening as quick as it ever has, and it feels long now as I look ahead and can’t imagine my way forward and what that reality will look like. But I think in the grand scheme of things, so to speak, this is a moment in time, only a little one. And though it is really, really hard not to wish this time away, I am trying to feel it all. To see it all.

As Norah was at ballet today, Jude and I spent some time at a local spot we’ve grown to love. It was fun to play with only him for a while. One of those moments when you look at them and they seem all grown and fearless; it’s amazing really. I’ve blinked and we are here. There is only one summer I will ever have when they are 3 and 5, and I am in this moment in my own life. I don’t want to miss it. Today is all I have right now. Every day is new, and I don’t know how long this period will last for me. Something tells me, like every other season of my life, the things I will miss the very most are the things I don’t even notice or cherish right now.

I’m exploring and observing new terrain everyday. I have no idea where it will lead, but it has to be somewhere good, right? (I’m asking mostly for reassurance as I look at unfamiliar waters.) I bought my mom Glennon Melton’s book for Mother’s Day, and I was flipping through it before I wrapped it up. There’s a chapter when she describes her sister’s divorce and the transition period before her sister moved on, and she explains, “Now we know that in order for love to be real and true and good, you need to have had your heart shattered. We know now that a broken heart is not the end of the world, but a beginning.” I’m not always sure where I am on that timeline, and maybe it’s a fluid thing. But I think I’m moving a bit from shattered pieces to new starts, and I will look back at this summer as the beginning.

transitions

June 17, 2015July 12, 2015 KatieLeave a comment

The kids have been away at the beach with their dad and his family, and I have been on my own for fewer than four days, yet I’ve managed to paint two rooms in my house, freeze five quarts of homemade marinara and four family portions of baked ziti, and finish my first read of the summer. I also began putting my office and bookshelves back together after painting, and I’ve got my books organized once again as they were in pre-child days: by genre and then alphabetically. It’s so crazy how much time expands before you when you’re used to having kids underfoot. I miss them like crazy, but at least my productivity is making up for the weirdness in our summer schedule.

Today I intended to squeeze in a Pure Barre class with a good friend, but traffic held her up, and we decided to go for a quick hike nearby instead. I usually do this walk with Jude and go a little slower, so I couldn’t believe it when we reached the top pretty quickly, even in the sweaty, burning sun. We talked the whole way up, enjoyed a perfect view with the tiniest breeze, and then talked again as we walked back down. It was good for my soul in every way. I was gross and sweaty and spent when I got home, but it was worth it for sure.

I finished Cheryl Strayed’s Wild early this morning with my coffee, and I think I’ll be turning this one over and over in my head for quite some time. I feel like the last person on earth to read it, but I’m so glad I read it right now at this time of transition for me.

Most likely anyone who is reading this post already knows the premise of the memoir, but in case you don’t…. Strayed is grief-stricken from the sudden loss of her mother and the collapse of her marriage and sets out on a journey of walking over eleven hundred miles on the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s a metaphorical journey as she wants to mark this passage in her life and put so many things behind her, but it is a literal one too – of scary and grueling physical challenges on the trail. The thought of a woman hiking for 100 days alone from southern California to Oregon is incredible to me. I couldn’t put the book down, and the details of long distance hiking were fascinating.

But more than that, it is Strayed’s perspective on her life and the transitions that occur for her that had me riveted and underlining so many special passages I want to etch in my memory. I’m not doing anything at all like walking 1100 miles on foot, but some days it can feel that way. The thing that was so perfect about the timing of this book for me is her focus on the value of solitude and the importance of transitions in our lives. The significance of recognizing those moments of change and passage should not be underestimated. As one of her friends on the trail explains to her about moments of feeling low or confused as your life changes in ways out of your control, “It’s a good thing… It’s the place where things are born, where they begin. Think about how a black hole absorbs energy and then releases it as something new and alive” (127). But as Strayed demonstrates so well, we cannot use the black hole to create anything new at all if we don’t take time alone to reflect on the experience and examine our own behaviors and motivation and where we intend to go next.

This was timely for me as I’m experiencing being alone for the first time in pretty much fifteen years – the entirety of my adult life. And solitude felt so strange at first, but I am sinking into it and realizing I need it so badly and need to honor this time and space before I move forward. Sometimes I wish I could fast forward a year or two or three down the road, but then again, I don’t know. This is such a sweet time of change for me. An itchy and painful one, yes. But also a moment when I am feeling all of it, so to speak. I’m in it deeply and boiling everything down to essentials with my kids and me alone. And in a weird way, I feel like I am seeing things more crisp and clear than I have in the last decade. I’m seeing and feeling everything for what it really is because I have no one else to lean on or consult as a co-pilot or partner, no one else to diffuse or cloud my perceptions.

As Strayed says when she camps a night or two next to friends she met on the trail, “Being near [them] at night kept me from having to say to myself I am not afraid whenever I heard a branch snap in the dark… But I wasn’t out here to keep myself from having to say I am not afraid. I’d come, I realized, to stare that fear down, to stare everything down, really – all that I’d done to myself and all that had been done to me. I couldn’t do that while tagging along with someone else” (122). I mean really, friends. Could there be a truer statement given to me at my current moment?

I felt like Strayed was talking straight to me through so much of her memoir – which is my very favorite thing about literature. It’s why I teach and write. Those shared moments of real reflection on the human experience fuel my fire so much. At one point, she refers to what Pacific Crest Trail hikers call “trail magic” which is simply “the unexpected and sweet happenings that stand out in stark relief to the challenges of the trail” (232). And I’m certain you don’t have to be hiking the PCT for 1100 miles to experience “trail magic.” It’s happening to me all the time – when I read something that pierces me all the way through, when I discover new music that moves me, when I catch my kids in just the right light to be overwhelmed with their sweet little features and the idea that they came from my body and call me mama, when I have shared moments or laughter with friends that fill me up in the best way. There are so many little joys in life, even on a tough trail and among the tangled mess.

mother’s day weekend

May 9, 2015July 12, 2015 Katie3 Comments

It’s 10pm, and the kids are asleep after a full day in the hot May sunshine. We visited a local strawberry farm for their strawberry festival as opposed to just picking berries like we did last year. The kids were serious about finding the ripest ones, and they had such a good time.

We left with A TON of strawberries, and I need to get baking this week to do something with them. The kids also enjoyed time with their cousins who came with us and indulged in face painting and tractor rides and all sorts of fun distractions. Schlepping kids through a festival in the hot sun always takes some effort, but I am so glad that we did it this year.

One would think that Mother’s Day without another adult in the house can feel a little weird, I guess. But frankly, it doesn’t feel all that different than the past few years for me. I’ve never had a big celebration or major gifts or breakfast in bed or whatever other images are presented all around us. This year feels special for a lot of reasons though. Jude is starting to understand it much more clearly. He’s made me all kinds of things – some with the guidance of a teacher or my mother – and lots of other spontaneous drawings and pictures that he explains elaborately to me. I think he said “Happy Mother’s Day!” with a tight hug at least ten times today, and it’s not even Mother’s Day yet. They’ve been talking about it a lot at school, and he’s entering that age where he loves helping and doing things for other people.

It’s so crazy as my kids get older. So weird to look at them and see them as little people with their own ideas and opinions. I love it, but it is scary – especially in light of recent happenings for them. I’m going to be honest in this space and say that every single day I wonder how to handle all of this with them and if they will emerge relatively unscathed. I worry everyday that the transition is too much and that no source of security here in our own walls can mitigate that confusion. Frankly, I feel lost and overwhelmed pretty often when it comes to answering their questions and explaining what has happened this past few months and why it is happening so fast.

For now, I just keep loving on them and moving on with our routine as we always have. The one very good thing about their father’s previous travel schedule these past few years is that, to be honest, absolutely nothing in our daily routines has changed in the midst of this. Nothing. We moved, and the house is different, of course. But I’m still getting them out the door each morning and to school and we eat around our table just the three of us as we always have and enjoy evenings and bedtime routines together just as we always have, and that consistency is helping us all to adjust pretty easily – myself included, I think. There is such comfort in routine. Such peace in what we know. And if I am being completely honest here, what I know (and have known for these past couple years especially) is my children.

I know every little thing about them. And I’m not special for this. Mothers always do. It’s knowing what they like and dislike. The names of their little friends and whom they most love playing with on the playground. Their teachers’ names and school tasks. Their favorite foods – which can change daily. The music they request on the car radio. But there’s also the physical traits mothers know so well that make me ache these days as I see them changing. Jude’s legs elongating and his toddler belly disappearing. His hands lately look like a school boy – no chub as they navigate legos, playground dirt under his fingernails at the end of the day. Norah’s hair changing texture to feel like a big kid and not so wispy anymore. The list goes on – the cheeks and eyelashes and all the details you carve in your memory as they are cuddled up nursing and rocking at some ungodly hour when they are so new.

In Perfect Match, Jodi Piccoult says, “Sometimes when you pick up your child you can feel the map of your own bones beneath your hands, or smell the scent of your skin in the nape of his neck. This is the most extraordinary thing about motherhood – finding a piece of yourself separate and apart that all the same you could not live without.” I’m feeling that these days for certain. They are separate and apart, but a piece of myself that I could not live without.

Early days seem like so long ago now. I hardly remember the feeling of changing diapers all day and stumbling across a dark hallway in the middle of the night to nurse a crying baby. And more than that, it is so strange and surreal to think back to that new mom in that house – 2 houses ago now – and that she really had no clue what change and chaos was coming. How ridiculously certain she was in her worldview and expectations. It all seems so hollow now except for the memories with my babies. They feel like the only real in my life then, and in many ways, they are the most real now.

I’ve babbled on and on before about how amazingly supportive my friends have been and how I could’t have made it without them. But these kids are the other side of that for me. They are my compass and my center, and I sometimes think they are the reason for all of it. The past ten years of my life is the only way that these two souls could find their way to me. I have no idea what the future holds, and I’ve learned enough about life these past 6 months that I know it’s pointless to guess. But whatever unfolds, these two will be central to it. And for the moment, it is the three of us running along as best we can, and I think we are actually doing alright.

Motherhood is hard. And I am not sure that I do things right every step of every day. But right now, we are doing some very hard things. And we are making it. They know I love them, and I know they love me in a way that is unique to the three of us and always has been. It’s been a hell of a year, but we are making it. And this weekend I’m celebrating that. To motherhood and all its difficulties – all its gifts, too. There’s no place I’d rather be than with these two.

fall fun

October 27, 2014July 12, 2015 KatieLeave a comment

This time of year is always busy, but this year is crazier than ever. On the one hand, I really want to take advantage of all the fun stuff going on around us, but at the same time, I resent it when life gets so busy you can’t catch your breath. Weekends are flying by faster than weekdays lately. Work is busy among piles of midterm grading, but it almost feels like the few hours I have at my quiet work desk are the only times I can focus and breathe a bit.

Jude started playing soccer this year, so that accounts for some of this. He LOVES it, and the fields are less than two miles from our house, so I obliged. It is cute to watch, and I love seeing him get the hang of a real team sport and cheer on his teammates. But this whole be at practice an hour a week and a game every weekend stage of parenthood is very new for us. It’s like the second you stop potty training and dressing them and waking up at night, you reach a new kind of busy. It’s not easier – or harder. Just different.

In addition to early morning soccer games, we’ve had fall fairs and pumpkin patches to enjoy.

Finally, our craziness is coming to a slower pace after this weekend closed with a preschool fall carnival and a neighborhood festival as well. The amount of face paint, cotton candy, bounce houses, and plastic prizes over the past few weeks might have lost its luster for me, but not for these two.

I’m looking forward the the revelry of Halloween, of course. But I’m most looking forward to the slower pace of November. The season is settling in, and even Georgia weather will resign itself to soup and sweaters in the next few weeks. My favorite vegetables are in season and the calendar is fast approaching Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday. I’m hoping I can work on a little more mindfulness in the weeks ahead.

Happy week to you and yours. Fall is in full swing.

Birthday at the Farm

October 6, 2014July 12, 2015 Katie4 Comments

Jude’s birthday is still a few days away, but we managed to snag an October Sunday afternoon at a local farm, so we celebrated a little early. The weather has been up and down and often rainy lately, so I worried a little. But Georgia fall delivered in all its splendor, and it was perfect.

Jude enjoyed the day with cousins and friends, plus lots of wide open spaces and fall fun.

The kids got to enjoy a “corn pit” which was basically a sandbox with dried corn instead of sand. There were also a few bounce houses, playgrounds, and a small petting zoo. It made for such a memorable day. (Make the trip to Warbington Farms if you are in metro Atlanta. They are great!)

The highlight was a tractor ride where the driver had Jude stand up for a birthday serenade and took us on a scenic drive around the farm, stopping to call for and feed the cows.

We followed that up with some birthday cake under the tent and a little more playtime.

It was a perfect fall day to celebrate Jude’s fifth birthday. Five! I can hardly believe it. His actual birthday is another nine days away, so I’m sure the celebrations will continue this month. There’s so much to celebrate this season anyway. Apples, cooler mornings, pumpkin carving, local fairs, and Halloween dress-up around the corner. I am grateful for all of it – and for the people I get to share it with.

Happy October, friends! Thanks for reading.

officially summer

May 22, 2014July 12, 2015 KatieLeave a comment

We are on summer break, and as I read a little outside on the porch yesterday while Jude played and Norah napped, I was reminded of what a gift it is to work only 9 months a year. I will never get rich in academics, but I have a passion for what I do and as a very special bonus, I get these months off every year to exhale and re-center and spend time with my kids. It really is the perfect balance for me. My first year back at work has come to an end, and on the whole, it went really well. It feels good to have it behind me.

Last weekend was busy with the birthday of one very shy little girl. It astounds me how talkative and energetic she is when it’s only us hanging out at home – yet how incredibly shy she is in a crowd. We had such a small party this year, and she was still bashful when her big moment came.

As the week went on, I’ve crossed a few things off the to-do list with a check-up for Norah and a dermatologist appointment for me. But we also managed to squeeze in a morning of strawberry picking as well. This little farm is only a short 25 minutes up the road for us, and it was small and manageable with two kids and one mom. We had a great time.

Jude was really interested in it this year and a great berry-finder. I was genuinely impressed with his determination to only pick the very best ones! We ended up with a full gallon, and he was really proud. He’s been asking a lot of questions lately about where his food comes from, and he’s taking a new interest in gardening ideas. It’s sparked some really fun moments in the kitchen and outside.

So summer has begun in the very best way, and we are enjoying it already. We have all of next week to be lazy and get excited about our trip to Mexico next month. More soon, friends.

October Recap

November 4, 2013July 12, 2015 Katie2 Comments

I can’t believe we’ve turned the page to November. Work has been incredibly busy for me since midterm, and our semester ends with final exams the first week of December. I’m looking forward to a full month (!!) off for Christmas, and I am ready to finish the planning and grading I have ahead of me for the next three weeks. All in all, the first semester here is going really well.

October is always a busy month for us, and it’s all fun stuff that we genuinely want to do, not just obligations on the calendar. Jude’s party was followed by his day at the fair with my mom and a whole slew of family, including cousins he adores and admires. (And my brother’s girlfriend went along with her camera and photography skills, so I got to see it, too!) He was beyond excited to eat tons of fun food and ride everything he was tall enough for, even the scary stuff. This kid is fearless.

A week later, we ventured to a small pumpkin patch near home to pick out a few pumpkins. The weather was a tiny bit chilly and perfectly fall.

Then Halloween came and went with a ridiculous amount of excitement at our house. We had Buzz Lightyear and a ballerina this year. The Child Development Center here led a parade of trick or treaters around campus, and I was able to join them which was so fun. At one point, Jude shouted “This is the best day ever!”

We also had a ton of people over on Halloween night because our new neighborhood is perfect for trick or treating. Sidewalks and tiny kids everywhere! It was a great chance to meet more neighbors, and it felt like everyone had kids no older than ten. It makes me look forward to my kids growing up here – so many little friends their age!

October is such fun as it begins what I think is the best part of the year. But November seems almost better. Looking ahead at Thanksgiving in a few weeks and seeing the leaves turn red and gold in Georgia, I think we all slow down a bit and become more verbal about our gratitude in a way we forget to during the rest of the year. Bowls of soup for dinner, bread baking in the kitchen, movie nights and chilly mornings, sweater wearing (finally), and holiday plans looming soon. Gratitude is felt so much more fully this time of year. And I’m so grateful for my little family, now more than ever.