Part I: Four Kids Later...

This is long overdue.

Several times I've attempted to write since my last blog two years ago. But then wouldn't finish it. Then I'd go back to it, but then it's outdated.

With a little push from a friend turned fan, I'm back. And I like doing these blogging exercises. It forces me to slow down and reflect. Even if only a handful of people read it, it’s fun for me to look back on it years from now and see where I was at in life.

So, where am I at?


A beautiful, ordinary life.

For one, I could never have imagined my life to be what it is today. Married, kids, career, never-ending meals, dishes, and laundry.

When I was young, I was afraid to dream of a future. I didn’t want to be disappointed if I didn’t get what I wanted or meet expectations. Though I wanted lots of things, I settled for ideas like never getting married, never having kids, and not being particularly successful. Being weirdly unambitious.

It stemmed from growing up in a church that preached things like, “The Lord can come back at ANY TIME, you have to be ready!” Or, that in a moment God could call me, uproot my life, and move me somewhere I didn’t want to go to “follow His move".

Needless to say, there was a lot of fear around planning a future.

It’s a blessing God led me out (slash got pushed out) of that church over 15 years ago. While it did provide a very happy upbringing for me, as an adult, it became clear how limiting it was in its practice, ideology, and personal/spiritual growth.

With these ideas, coupled with my go-with-the-flow personality, I never really saw or planned past the present. I still don’t to an extent (that's Shobab's job). And I feel as though I fell into many of the things that now define my life.

Which makes me wonder. Is life happening to me, or am I making life happen?

I’m sure it’s a bit of both.


Maybe I just need to Mom.

I do know that I fall into funks and get all moody when I lack a sense of purpose. And “purpose” for me changes with the seasons.

Recently, I felt my purpose was to truly focus on being a Mom and to enjoy all parts of it. I mean, it’s not like I have a choice. But it’s changing my mindset. I asked for this. Why do I act like I’m annoyed of the responsibility that comes with it?

Might be weird to say, but I didn’t put too much thought into motherhood with my first 2 girls. I felt like they just lived alongside life as we lived it. Then Sol came along, and he humbled us real quick. That boy has been more work during his first 3 years than we could have imagined. But he's such a sweet boy. A strong-willed, deeply feeling little man that already loves to work-- a mini-Shobab. And they speak the same language. I call Shobab the Sol-whisperer.

Anyway, while I love being a mom, there were still parts of me that didn't fully accept it. As if I was holding onto the me that was single and free. So I faced it, and embraced it. Fully leaned into the role. PTA mom and all. I mean, I now drive a minivan, and love it. Need I say more.

With that transition, I also decided to work less, a lot less. It was something Shobab had been asking of me for years. But I loved my work and I wasn't willing to give it up. With work, I had nearly full autonomous decision-making power. A thing you don't realize you've given up when entering a marriage (nearly every response after that is, "let me check with my husband.")

But after many, many discussions with Shobab, I finally let in the idea of not working. What started off as a hard "NO" turned into a "Hmmm, what if...". I thought about what it could look like. And that crack was all I needed for the light to flood in.

So one afternoon, I got on a call with my CEO. At this point, we had just sold to private equity, had acquired a smaller tree company, and were looking to buy another. He thought we were going to talk about growth and pivoting my role to be more sales-focused. He couldn't have expected what was coming.

After 14 years with the company, my entire career in the industry, helping it grow from practically nothing, we ended the call discussing a severance package and next steps. Over the next 6 months, I was going to transition into a consulting role-- project-based, limited hours, and still connected. It couldn’t have gone better.

The great world of not having full-time work responsibilities was ahead of me, and it felt glorious. I imagined all the many things I would do with this newfound "free time". Then, quickly found how easily this "free" time filled up with all the things I had been holding off on that needed my attention.

But I dove into the now full-time mom role. No more splitting drop-off and pick-up with Shobab, no more forgetting who was supposed to take the kids where, or who was going to be home in time. It's all me. And, all those annoying logical conversations Shobab and I used to have on the daily, practically disappeared.


The fourth surprise.

So when the biggest surprise of child #4 came along, our sweet Soleil, it all made sense. It's like our life was already preparing the way for her. For the space and capacity. Repositioning my role so that it wasn't going to be overwhelming for our household and she'd fit right into the rhythm we’d been unknowingly creating.

There’s a line in Psalm 23 that often comes to mind: “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”

I look back, and see that grace and mercy have been leading us the whole time, quietly guiding and teaching us.

We sit around and watch them all play and interact. Scream and laugh. Our intimate family times are so special to us and indescribable to explain the fullness they make us feel. But we look at each other and know we're sharing the same moment.

And in the middle of all that liveliness, I realized something else...


Don't forget the 'wife' part.

I might be old-fashioned. But I really like being married. Married and taken care of.

I went back and reread my vows for the first time.

I can’t believe how relevant they still are today. In my 7-minute-long vow. The one promise I make is this…”Shobab, I promise to always be present with you, and to learn how to put down my electronics when you ask me to.”

And omg, that literally is the main thing he still asks of me. It hasn’t changed!

I don’t know if that’s a good thing, like how insightful I was with his needs from the beginning. Or a bad thing, like after 11 years, I’m still attached to my electronics.

But marriage has its seasons. The sunny ones, the cold ones, the blooming beautiful ones, and the ones where the leaves fall off and the tree looks dead. But what I've come to expect in ours is that the winters don't last too long before new light and new growth. Neither of us can live with being unhappy for very long. Life is too short for all that, there's too much to be grateful for.

And as a wife, the most consistent, impactful thing I can do is to appreciate my husband. Not to think it, but to actually say it to him, regularly. It's surprisingly hard.

Sometimes it feels weird to talk about the good stuff. Maybe because it’s more socially acceptable to joke or complain about your spouse than to say, “He's great!” Or maybe it’s because when things are good, I want to protect that. Keep it sacred. I don’t know. I guess there’s a fine line between being boastful and sharing positively about the good things.

So to expand on the whole husband appreciation, one of the things I most appreciate is his commitment. His commitment to me, making things work, working it out, following through, raising the kids, my endless party planning and always having people over, all of it.

That commitment shows up in a lot of ways, but more specifically, in the commitment to adjusting as we move through these constantly changing seasons of life.

Here’s what I mean:

It used to bug me when other parents say, "Having kids is a sacrifice". A sacrifice feels so heavily negative. And kind of tragic. Like we have to lose something to love something.

Recently, Shobab and I were talking about how much of our time, day, money, thoughts, decisions, everything, is centered around our kids. We barely have time for each other. And what would life look like without kids? Then we go off into dreamland about all the things we would be doing.

Call me dense, but that's when I realized what we've "sacrificed": our relationship. The hours we’d normally spend with each other connecting, the places we would have traveled to, the energy we would have for each other. But with 4 kids, long days, house chores, all the things, we get what’s left of each other. Not what’s best of each other.

So we committed to not letting that be the case. To keep trying to show up as our kind selves, our better selves, and not our over-tired, over-stimulated, and end-of-the-day irritable selves. To prioritize our relationship. It's one thing to love each other, but it’s another thing to be love-ing.

And when Shobab sees something that needs to change, he'll do something about it. He commits. And it's not like all of a sudden he's whisking me away on dates, or that we're buying each other extravagant gifts. The day-to-day is much the same, but I feel the difference in our interactions and in our home.

And for me, that’s what not forgetting the “wife” part looks like. To choose, over and over again, to nurture “us” in the micro-interactions throughout our day, and in the middle of everything else.


Bringing it all together.

Four kids later, a slower pace of work, and a bigger understanding of love and commitment, I get what seasons of life are about. It’s not about doing it all. It’s about doing what matters, when it matters.

And growth may not be some grand transformation, but quiet shifts in how we love, how we live, how we show up. The work is constant, but the reward for me is a peaceful home & meaning despite the often mundane. 

I’m more than grateful for that. For this beautiful, ordinary, loving life.


I guess it turns out I had a lot more to write than I thought, continue to Part II for a few things I've learned along the way.



Continue reading Part II: Thoughts from the Minivan >>

Annndddd, some photos!

Part II: Thoughts from the Minivan

PART II: Thoughts from the Minivan


Continued from Part I: Four kids later...


As I shuttle the kids around in my minivan, school to home to taekwondo to gymnastics to ceramics to the park, to the edge of the universe and back. I use my Siri Talk-to-Notes pretty often when I have new ideas, thoughts, or anything really.

So, here are four "lessons" that stuck with me lately.

They aren't novel or anything groundbreaking. I'm sure you can find a million one-liners and inspirational quotes on social media about this stuff. But for me, they've been real. Real to my experience of wanting to live better.



1. Working to forgive.

Forgiveness is one of those things that is easy to say and sometimes impossible to actually, really, truly do. Especially when the offense is real, the pain is deep, or when I know I’m right.

I know what it feels like to not want to forgive and why. It feels like injustice, it feels like that person doesn’t deserve my forgiveness because “they need to learn”. It feels like “I’m letting them off too easy”. It feels like I’m not being true to myself.

It also feels like a literal stone in my heart, a feeling of unrest or anxiety any time I think of that person. A weight that keeps me from showing up as a better, and more whole person.

But here’s the truth: forgiveness has only ever improved my life. I’ve never once thought, “Ah man, I shouldn’t have forgiven them.”

Forgiveness is powerful. Forgiveness is freedom. It can heal. It has allowed me to move onward, upward. It has also allowed relationships to grow and flourish, to be lifelong.

What does my forgiveness look like?

I say it out loud. I say it in my heart. I say it to God. I say it when I don’t feel it and speak it into reality. And then I say it again if the feelings come back up. If it’s really deep-rooted, I’ll write it on a piece of paper and watch it burn. Turn it to ashes.

Imagine a life without holding on to offenses. Releasing all the burden that comes along with it. Life gets lighter, easier, more enjoyable.

And for me, life is about relationships with people. My family, my community of friends, my colleagues. The richer those relationships are, the richer I feel in life. And sometimes people will never forgive back, and sometimes I won’t get that “sorry” I want, or that change I want to see, but that’s ok. That’s not my burden to carry. I just make sure I’m good on my part and be open if that relationship ever comes back around.


2. Words have power.

“The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” This is a big one for me.

Words have the power to tear down or build up. We can use them to make ourselves, and others, feel better, or feel worse.

There’s a moment in my young adult life that I distinctly recall my sister saying to me something along the lines of, “You have to be careful you know, you have a sharp tongue.”

It stuck with me because I had never heard that from anyone. And I thought about that often afterward. What’s a sharp tongue? What did that mean?

It wasn’t until years into my marriage did I see the full truth to this. How my words can cut. How quickly an unrestrained tongue can erupt into an argument about nothing.

I’ve learned that this is, personally, my hardest “temptation” to not give in to. To NOT say what I really want to say in the heat of the moment. To hold it in, sit on it, then decide whether something is worth saying. Sometimes this feels impossible.

And it’s also not just about what I say or don’t say to others, it’s what I 'm thinking, what I'm saying in my head. And how when I give space to those word, it can shape how I feel inside.

Sometimes at the end of the day I reflect on all the conversations I had. What did they look like, how do I feel about what was said, what could I have said differently, better, or not at all? It doesn't happen every day, but I do think about stuff like this often.


3. There’s always movement.

"Downtime” doesn't really exist in my day. If there’s a moment to be had between the kids, work, or our businesses, then I'll fill it with my next new idea, or writing this blog, or my new children's book series (more to come on that), or planning the next party.

Shobab and I regularly sit and talk about, “What should we do next?” What’s in front of us, what can we do to better for our families' lives, who needs help around us?

We run with what’s given to us and the opportunities that come our way. Things don’t always play out as we want, but we keep trying. Plenty of failures and mistakes, but I’d say overall the trajectory is up.

I feel like the constant movement generates purpose, and keeps our life meaningful. So I don't know if this is neccessary a "life lesson", maybe more of an awareness of the things that drive us. That keep Shobab and I energized and excited to keep going when it feels like we're doing the same thing day after day.

When I first got Covid a couple of years back, I didn’t get that sick, I was only down for 2 days. But the COIVD “blaaahhh” that came after was REAL. I found myself waking up feeling dull and wondering what is the meaning to anything. What is life and why does it feel so aimless.

And with all the news and wars, and tradgeties, it’s easy to feel lost when, in the grand scheme of things, my little life seems insignificant. And my struggles or challenges seem so minor compared to the struggles and injustices so many others face.

It’s not lost on me how fortunate I am in life. I feel undeserving and lucky to have all that I have.

Which brings me to my last thought.


4. Open home. Open heart.


They say home is where the heart is. So when we open our home to the mess, the kid chaos, all the things. We’re opening our hearts, in whatever season of relationship we're in, and making room for others. On any given weekday we might have company over. Just as long as we can be in bed by 10pm.

Single, dating, married, with kids or without, I’ve always had people over. It’s how I grew up, so maybe it comes more naturally. But over the course of our marriage and family life, it’s become something we both love. Something we can’t imagine life without.

There’s a verse that says, “To whom much is given, much will be required".

This resonates strongly. Because what we are given, we recognize isn’t ours. And what we may have spent our lifetime to build can be quite literally be taken away in a moment.

When we bought our first home. We committed that it would always be a welcoming space and refuge for friends and family. How we got our home in the competitive market we were in at the time was nothing short of a miracle: 11 other offers, and ours was $60k less than the highest. For whatever reason, the owners favored us.

When we were looking for our next property, we prayed the same prayer and made the same commitment. Another type of miraculous intervention happened; it's a longer story, but also nothing short of God's grace.

That verse is a reminder of responsibility and gratitude.

When I think about everything we’ve been given...our family, friends, health, home, community...none of it feels like it’s just ours. These things are gifts that are meant for us to steward, not possessions we get to keep.

Keeping our home open is our way of the “much is required” part and what that could look like in real life.


To wrap it all up.

When blessings overflow, I hope to pour it out to others. When I've been shown grace, I want to extend it. When our home is full, we'll always make room at the table. Because whether it’s the mom part, the wife part, or all the in-between parts, I want it all to come from the same place. From love, gratitude, and an open heart.

And now, as I wait for Shobab to finish building our new home, that promise still stands. 

Until the next update!