Hello From No Man’s Land!

It’s been a minute. My son (SON!!!!) just turned six months old, my tenure as president of our local mother-daughter philanthropy league came and went, my eldest daughter is heading into her senior year of college, my next daughter will be a junior in high school and is already about to take classes for her life goal of becoming a teacher, I will have TWO daughters at the elementary school down the road next year, and Harley is on the brink of being being a threenager. With a vengeance — she has four big sisters to keep up with after all.

It. Has. Been. A. Minute.

When I started this little blog (I started “blogging” in 2005; writing stories about my life online will ALWAYS be blogging, ok?) On the weekend of my 40th birthday, I was in a weird space.

I was in WTF mode. I had just had my fourth miscarriage. On my 40th birthday. I had wanted that sixth kiddo so badly, but at that point we had experienced so much loss and I was so done.

A miscarriage within months of Harley being born, nearly a year of not being able to get pregnant again (when I’ve always been a fertile Myrtle), and then I DID get pregnant again only to be told one more time, “I’m sorry but your baby has no heartbeat.” At that point I had been pregnant nine times, but only had five daughters. 

Only is a subjective term, I guess. But seriously, all I could think that day I wrote my first entry was WTF? I had already been through some shiz. That was supposed to be the “skip to the good part” era of my life. 

The actual web address of this page is ThisCantBeRealLife. I purposefully did that because even though I was going through something traumatic, I was also en route to a magical birthday weekend with some amazing friends in Utah, staying in a magical ski chalet that one of them OWNS, shredding some powder on the bunny hill and — wait for it — a few green runs (maybe even a blue?!!), and dipping imported stone crab and perfectly cooked asparagus into some of the best hollandaise I’ve ever had which was just whipped together by the owner of said ski chalet. 

None of my life seems real sometimes.

Anyway, back to the babies. After all of that, we decided to not have that last one after all. And it was FINE. I had FIVE amazing daughters, surely I was FINE with that being the end of making babies for me.

But then Ellis. And he’s so perfectly smooshy. And the perfect last addition to our fam bam. 

But WOW it’s been a lot to manage as a millennial mom who wants to make sure that all six of her kiddos feel loved, heard, and appreciated. But also have some space for herself to feel like a human being and not the hired help of all the people who live here. 

Which is why the charity league was awesome. It was a lot of work — but it was appreciated and recognized work — and I loved every second. Well maybe not the moments when I had to referee occasionally because let’s be honest, it’s a group of humans and not everyone is going to get along perfectly and have all the same opinions about all the things all of the times, but you know what? I’ve gotten really good at seeing all sides of a lot of different issues, and I HOPE that I was able to help some people communicate in ways that made them understand each other a little better. So maybe I even loved the referee moments.

I was meant to be a mom of many, apparently.

All of that being said … I’ve been back on the struggle bus lately, and it’s been hard. But my life motto seems to keep coming back to “fake it until you make it,” and I’ve still been going and doing all of the things, with all of the kids. Just. Keep. Going.

I’ve been having playdates, organizing the house top to bottom, making the meals, driving all the places, and providing so many moments of summer fun for the kids … and it’s still been … hard. 

And you’re all going to think I’m an idiot, but I really did have an epiphany this morning. My older girls are at their dad’s house, and my parents had the middle two girls for a sleepover last night. So with only a toddler and a baby in tow, Justin and I went and got burritos and headed to the beach with only two kids.

Not the best photo but we had a good time!

It was magical and delicious and easy and I was reminded of what I told myself right before Eliis was born, but somehow forgot: This next section of life caring for so many small kids is going to be hard. But I have big kids too — and I know in my bones it is all worth it.

And I’ve forgotten to carve out space for myself. I got it when I was presiding over the charity league, but as that drew to a close and ended, I got bogged down in the day-to-day, and I kept NOT putting things out into the world. I have sat down multiple times to write something like this, but haven’t known what to say because even if I have a moment, I barely have mental space these days to rub three brain cells together to form cognisant thoughts. And then I feel bad because why is life so hard right now when I have everything I’ve ever wanted?

Because I have so many little kids. Seriously, it’s that simple. I have a lot of little kids and not a lot of time or energy to do anything other than take care of them. Because going to the beach is harder with four or six than it is with two. WHO KNEW??

All of that to say I’m back to writing on my little corner of substack. Because I need to be able to put things out into the world, to relate to other people, maybe even help someone occasionally by sharing things I’m going through and have gone through. 

Like that fact that having six kids is harder than having two, especially when four of them are seven and under. 

Follow along for more phenomenal insights about parenting and life! I promise we are going to have fun here.