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How a Trip to Vegas Helped Me Find Myself

In February 2012, I spent a girl’s weekend away in Las Vegas with my two best friends to celebrate the fact that we were each turning 30 that year. Stated like that, it sounds a lot more risqué than it actually was. In reality, one of these two friends was living in neighboring Henderson, NV while attending med school and we went to visit her.

But we did have fun. Three friends together again, catching up, sharing stories and making new memories. The last time the three of us had been together for such a length of time with no kids or no husbands or boyfriends was 11 years ago. It was time. It had been so long since my only job was to make decisions for myself. We got ready to go places in a quarter of the time it usually takes with kids. Except, of course, for when we actually decided to blow dry our hair and put make up on which case it took us twice as long as usual than our everyday mom routine. The weekend was everything I hoped it would be.

But it was a conversation I had on the flight with my friend that rocked my world.

My friend has two boys that are about the same spread in age that my three kids are. So she gets it. She understands the 4 p.m. meltdowns and grocery store temper tantrums. We laughed and marveled at the moms raising the seemingly well-behaved gentle boys. We didn’t get those boys. We got the boys that jump from couches and run laps around our houses.

And then she said it.

“Yes, but I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I don’t miss working. I love being home with them.”



She’s a stay at home mom, with her kids all day long, and there is no place she’d rather be? I love my kids. I absolutely love them with all of my heart and soul, but I also love being at work. I sometimes refer to work as my “day off”. I love the adrenaline I feel when I’m working on a new project. I love sitting in a meeting and brainstorming a new concept. I love spending my day with adults. And when I come home I love being with my kids. But sometimes when I’m home there is somewhere I’d rather be; sometimes I’d rather be at work.

As a mother, thinking that phrase in my head, I was mortified.

How could I possibly believe that? Why couldn’t I just be like my friend? We are alike in so many ways. Why couldn’t we just be alike in this area as well. But we weren’t. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself, I couldn’t agree with her statement.

So when I returned from Vegas I knew I needed to wrestle with that statement more. The conversation with my husband went something like this:

Me: “Hey honey, can we talk a little later?”

Him: “Umm, sure. What’s this about?”

Me: [Bursting into tears] “I don’t really want to talk about it in front of the kids.”

In hindsight, this really wasn’t the best way to open a conversation after returning home from a girls weekend in Vegas. I spent the rest of dinner cryptically assuring my husband that the conversation was not going to be about some breach in my fidelity or my desire to run off to Vegas but instead was about my career goals and motherhood.

There were a lot of tears that night as I tried to explain the thoughts flying through my head. The truth was, I didn’t really know what I was thinking. For three years I struggled and worked really hard to get the hang of the stay at home part of motherhood, but I never could get it to click. I never felt like I fully fit in to that world. And as I tried to explain this to my husband I realized that I still wasn’t sure what I was saying. Did I really want to work full-time? How would we manage everything? We could barely manage household life with me working part-time, how did we expect to manage it with me out of the house for 15 more hours a week? Was I just over reacting to a nice girl’s weekend? Maybe I just needed more weekends like that.

Needless to say I was a mess.

For awhile.

We spent the next few months having hard conversations about new goals and new plans for our family’s future. As I came to settle on the fact that I wanted to work full-time, we wondered if I’d be able to keep my current job or if I’d have to find a new job. Or, if my current job couldn’t accommodate a full-time position, would I be okay staying at a part-time position until they could. There was lots of praying. Lots of asking for strength.

And then things started falling into place.

I talked to my boss and after a bit of working on the budget and staffing structure they were able to accommodate my request to go full-time. In a little over a month, I will make that transition and I can honestly say I can’t wait. Of course it will be a transition for our entire house, but we have all talked about it and there isn’t a single person in this house that I don’t think can handle it.

Last weekend, I returned to Vegas to see my same friend graduate medical school. In addition to celebrating her big day, this trip back was significant for me as well. It was the end of a 15-month journey that lead me along a path to resolve the tension inside of me. I was very excited to go. My husband was terrified. Worried that I might come back with an entirely new perspective and want to become a stay-at-home mom, he reminded me several times before the trip that the decision had been made for me to go full-time and there was little we could do to change that at this point. The good news for him was that I came home with no second wave of a quarter-life crisis.

But on this plane ride I was able to reflect on what I did during those 15-months that changed my trajectory so much.

Speak up.
That first Monday night could have gone very differently. I could have very easily stayed quiet. I could have bottled my emotions and convinced myself that they didn’t matter. I didn’t and I’m glad I didn’t. It wasn’t always easy. I was scared and I said things that didn’t always come out the way that I meant for them to come out but if I had never voiced my concerns I could still be where I was 15 months ago, which was not the best place.

Connect with Friends.
Life became busy when the twins were born. The amount of laundry doubled, the dishes tripled and the number of toys, well, I can’t count that high. Between spending time with family and keeping up with household minutia, I had nothing left. By 7 p.m., I was exhausted. When my husband and I did go out, we went out alone for date nights. We lost track of our friends. That’s not to say we stopped all contact entirely, but as most parents can relate, we just didn’t go out as much after we had kids because going out meant finding a babysitter, paying a babysitter and, perhaps most important, losing cherished sleep time. But losing those connections meant losing the relationships that round out your sanity. Your spouse is great, but of course he/she is going to relate to your parenting struggles, he/she has he same kids! I find no greater joy than going to a friend’s house and watching her son have a meltdown in front of me. It sounds horrible, I know, but it assures me that my kid isn’t a lost cause. If her seemingly okay kid can have a meltdown because the fruit snacks are Phineas and Ferb themed and not Batman themed then my kid crying over wearing no underwear with her bathing suit doesn’t seem so bad. The first weekend in Vegas reminded me how much I missed my friends. In the 15-months that have followed that trip, both my husband and I have been blessed to reconnect with old and new friends that help us feel like maybe we aren’t the worst parents in the world.

Ask for Help.
My husband is a great person to talk to. He should be; he’s a pastor. I also have friends that are amazing listeners. As wonderful as the people in my life are, I needed more help than they could give me. There were things I needed help with that went beyond that duties of husband or friend. Things that I needed to be able to work out for myself and not worry about how others would perceive me. For me, I find that it can be easier to talk to a complete stranger than to someone who knows me to the center of my soul. If you have never been to professional counseling, it’s incredible. It’s like going for coffee with someone where you get to talk about yourself for the entire time. Except that you are paying the person to have coffee with you. Or in my case, my insurance company was paying the person to have coffee with me. I know there is a stigma around counseling and I think that’s ridiculous. I know it sounds weird to say “I go to counseling because I struggle with the balance between motherhood and my career goals.” But here is the thing. I do. And before I started going to counseling, I was unhappy. And I didn’t know why. Counseling helped my figure out a lot of things. I think I’m a better mom now. I also think I’m better at my job now. So you can judge me because I couldn’t figure these things out on my own, but I’m not ashamed to admit that I needed help.

So those are my three life lessons from the past 15 months. I won’t lie, I cried a lot of tears this past year. But I also smiled. A lot. I learned how to look for joy again. I discovered I am a lot stronger than I ever thought I was. I connected with friends who helped my crazy days feel not so bad. I also came to know that when my husband stood in a church 8 years ago and made a promise to love and cherish me through good times and hard times he meant it. He has listened to me and supported me and encouraged me every step along the way. I could not have done this without him.

And to every one else who provided love and encouragement, whether you knew what was going on behind the curtain or not, thank you.


Please Pray For Rose

Sometimes when you start dating someone, you start dating his friends. The people that matter to him begin to matter to you. If they don’t, you start to have real problems. When I met Rob and Rose, they were my husband’s “married friends”. While most of my husband’s other friends were still searching for Mrs. Right, Rose was the consistant female at social functions. She was like the head girlfriend (except technically she was a wife). She helped fill in the back story on how everyone met and how long who has been dating who. From the very begining she was a mentor to me. Teaching me the ways of my husband’s friend group.

A year later, after I got engaged, it was Rose that answered my questions about wedding planning and married life. I was the first among my friends to get married so I looked mainly to her for guidance. It was Rose who applied my makeup on my wedding day and Rose who prepared a plate of food for me so I wouldn’t starve at my reception.

Rose was my first close friend to have a baby. Just a few weeks after our wedding she became my first friend that was a mom. A few years later when I was living only a few blocks away and pregnant with my first baby it was Rose who I watched for tips on how to be a mom. After my son was born, Rose and I would meet at Chick-Fil-A for lunch and swap stories about being a mom of one.

A year after my oldest was born, Rose had a second child and the following year I had my twins. We now had five kids between the two of us. Chick-Fil-A lunches weren’t so easy anymore. I still remember the day Rose came to visit me after the twins were both home from the hospital. We were downstairs looking at all the kids and discussing how crazy it was and she told me just how crazy it was about to get. She was pregnant with twins.

In the span of four years, the two of us had seven children. We had twins 9 months apart.

We don’t live a mile apart anymore. We hardly every see one another. Our lives are such that finding time to hang out means finding a needle in a haystack. But perhaps more than any other person in the world, I know she understands. On my hardest day, I remind myself that Rose has one more kid in the mix.

I’m thankful for Rose in my life for so many reasons. She’s helped me be a better girlfriend, a better wife and a better mom.

Today Rose is having brain surgery. Rose has a brain tumor. The prognosis is good as the doctors are pretty confident the tumor is benign. But it is brain surgery nonetheless. Rose will be recovering in the hospital for several days and then at home for several weeks. As anyone with small children can tell you, this will be difficult for the entire family.

If you are reading this today, please take a moment to pause and pray for Rose while she’s in surgery. Pray for the doctors that are operating on her and pray for her family members that are anxiously awaiting the surgery results. In the upcoming weeks, please remember to keep Rose’s family and Rose in her recovery in your prayers.

You can follow Rose’s story at

You Don’t Always Get To Pick Your Friends

For the record, I never wanted to be her friend.

Her reputation preceded her and quite frankly, I wanted nothing to do with her.

For starters she was in second grade. Do you realize what hanging out with a second grader can do to a third grader’s social standing?

Secondly, she was a minor celebrity in our school. She had a recurring role on the monthly “soap drama” broadcast school-wide. This was usually a privilege reserved for 6th graders, but she scored the much-coveted role of the younger sister of one of the characters. You know how these celeb-types can be: very demanding and self-involved. No thank you.

But despite my protests, my parents bought the house next to hers anyway.

From day one I found her to be a nuisance. The moving truck had yet to pull away from our house and there she was, knocking on our door, asking if I could come over to play. My parents, eager to get me out of the house while they unpacked, quickly shoved me out the door and told me they’d call me home for dinner. It was 10 AM.

I must admit playing at her house was pretty cool. She was an only child so the two of us basically had the run of the place. No older brothers to share the basement rec room with. No younger siblings taking a nap, forcing us to be quiet. I soon found myself actually enjoying her company.

In the years that followed, we became like sisters. Since we were in different grades, we each had our own “real friends.” But after school and during the summer, we were inseparable. We’d fight. I’d go home. An hour later we’d make up.

As we grew into adults, we remained close friends. She was the maid of honor at my wedding. I was the matron of honor at hers.

Currently we live 1,000 miles apart. We live very different lives. We are two very different people. You might think I’m exaggerating. Surely we aren’t that different. I urge you to check out her blog: Read a few posts. I’ll wait right here. It’s okay, you can go. Trust me, after a few clicks, you’ll see what I mean. She’s a walking Pinterest board.

So you can imagine my hesitation when I traveled to stay with her last week. I was attending a conference in her city. She made it clear that she’d be offended if I didn’t stay with her. This trip would be the longest we’ve been together since college. I’ll admit I was nervous.

It did not take long to realize things were going to be fine. Fashion preferences aside, we were the same two giggly girls from childhood.

Neither of us have sisters but I’d imagine this is what having a sister is like. You don’t get to pick your sister. I didn’t pick Katie. But she shares a piece of me that few others do. She shares my childhood. She was there on the summer nights catching lightening bugs at dusk. She was there building snowmen on snow days in the winter. She was there when I had my first kiss with the neighbor boy on her swing set. I realize that sounds odd; having an audience for your first kiss is not desirable. However, it was her coaxing that made the kiss happen. The neighbor boy and I were far too shy to come up with that idea on our own.

I’m thankful for the shared memories of our childhood. Those memories are what hold us together. No amount of miles, or Pinterest boards, can change that.