Sarah Too

Our Tiny House

I have to admit I wasn't looking forward to this year's summer break from school. I feared I was in for 2 1/2 months of constant bickering between my boys. I haven't loved tiny house living either. But the Lord works in mysterious ways and I find myself full of absolute gratitude for the summer the boys and I have had.

T.I. Park Pavillion

I recently flew from Iowa to New York and back with my two boys, ages 4 and 17 months, for a two-week visit with my family. Just me and my two busy, curious boys. Oh how I wished I was a celebrity with a nanny for each child and perhaps even a private plane.

In the weeks leading up to the trip I worried -- A LOT -- about how to get two squirmy, active little humans -- and our luggage -- through security, on and off planes, and through airports over many hours with as few mommy or kiddo meltdowns as possible. What follows are my tips for making the journey as smooth as possible even with gate changes, delayed flights, and other snags that can pop up when traveling.

My mind is a blur of thought these days. In October of last year, I made the decision to quit coaching CrossFit and stay home full time to care for Bman (and grow increasingly larger during the last months of my pregnancy with our second child). It was a sea change for me. When I confirmed my pregnancy around this time last year, it was a relief and a terror. Relief that the Mister and I no longer needed to debate whether to have a second child. Terror that we were about to upset the "new normal" we fought so hard to establish after the birth of Bman. Neither of these feelings is revolutionary or unique to us as parents.

Y'all, 2016 is going to be a big year. Baby #2 is about 6 weeks away from entering this world; so really, any day our family will grow by two extra feet. I'm already exhausted. I feel terrible for Bman and the Mister. My functioning as a Mom and Partner have been...subpar. I mean, no one is starving, abused, or dying, but I'm certainly not as enthusiastic or motivated as when I am not pregnant.

Sunset from our cottage deck

This month, The Mister, Bman, and I experienced our first full-on family vacation. It was a learning experience, to say the least. On the whole, the trip went well and we made some wonderful memories in one of my most favorite places on Earth.

Photo credit: Joseph T. Meirose IV, Full Framework Photography

At the end of this week, the Mister, Bman, and I are going to my heart's physical home. We head to the St. Lawrence, to a beautiful region called The 1000 Islands, where the river water is clear, the nights are cool, and the days are nothing short of magical. My family has vacationed there for 3, now FOUR, generations. In honor of this momentous pilgrammage, here is a reprint of an untitled short descriptive essay I penned when I was in middle school. It is about my grandparents' cottage on Tar Island on the Canadian side of the St. Lawrence. It was a place of many happy memories for my family and me. Enjoy the flowery language!

She looks thrilled.

I realize that I have not posted on here in quite some time. I write a blog post mostly every day for the gym the Mister and I own, so there is not always much left in the tank for me to share personal stories. Lately, though, I keep thinking about "Moms of the Past". Pioneer moms. Shipboard moms of the Mayflower, or Titantic (clearly one was a more successful voyage than the other, for the ship at least). Depression moms of the 1930s (not depressed moms of every era). Rich Moms. Poor Moms. Pre-Pinterest and internet Moms. Our own mothers.