The Beauty of Where I Am

Here are pictures that are almost 15 years old...

Travel Between Semester

Fixing a friend's car

Adventures galore

The death of my favorite pair of running shoes

Meet 21 year old Melissa. She had no clue, but she was a pretty hot piece of ass. Long naturally curly blonde hair. A beautiful tan from laying on the North Shore beaches of Oahu. She could captivate a room full of people by doing impressions or walking that fine line between funny and crude. Her whole future was ahead of her and she had not a care in the world.

In retrospect, those college years were absolutely the best years of my life. 21 year old Melissa totally had it made. I mean, Hawaii, no kids, and enough money to get a crab and bacon sandwich at Ted’s and fly to the Big Island to camp for the weekend… There is no way it could get better than that.

Unfortunately, those Hawaii years ended. I graduated and moved home to Tennessee. My efforts were solely focused on traveling the world and returning to Hawaii before I was 25. I would grow old in the sand and somehow transform into one of the wise old Polynesian women I had come to know and love.

Ah. The aspirations of a naïve little girl. Since I am 34 and writing this in Knoxville, you are safe in assuming I have neither returned to Hawaii nor have I become Polynesian. 

No. Instead you can meet 24 year old Melissa. Softer, but still a pretty bangin’ bod. Long blonde curls still firmly attached to a head that fell in love and started graduate school. The tan had faded as I traded Hawaiian beaches for the comfort of my hometown in Tennessee. I was a googly eyed newlywed with no intentions of having children – I just didn’t want any of it. Jason and I were both students and spent more time than not on campus. We were ambitious… Finishing gradaute school, getting a fancy professional job where I got to wear suit pants and blouses (that word just makes me giggle… especially when it’s pronounces like blouzes) were my main concerns. Two incomes, debt free, and retired traveling the world by 40 – that was the plan. 

Our only race together - The RC Cola Moon Pie Festival - 6 blissful months of marriage

You know? I was wrong. Looking back these were the best years of my life. I’ll never get the time back when Jason and I were just Jason and I. Our little apartment was so clean and full of love. Walks, LOST marathons, and indulging in finding our path as a couple was all I would ever need.

Obviously, the no kid train didn’t happen. In November of 2010 we found out we were expecting Adaline. Dread, fear, and worry washed over me. But so did excitement. I have never backed down from a challenge, and that was my view of parenthood. Some type of challenge I could win.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Here is a note on parenting – the kids usually win. 

So meet 27 year old new mom Melissa. My body was now officially a soft mom bod. My long blonde curls gradually became shorter, straighter, thinner, and darker. My tan was absolute history – although we had found semi-regular beach attendance by moving to Florida for graduate school. As much as I was struggling with the physical changes that come with motherhood, I had never felt such a continuous abundance of love. I was quite stunned at how much I enjoyed being a parent when my perception of parenthood had been so daunting. As much as what I had pictured for my life was no longer possible, that 8lb 8oz bundle changed it all for the better. My plans of endless travel and carefree clean house may be on hold, but the love, y’all. I can’t even describe it.

She completed me. Us. She made us a family and unlocked at big space in my heart. It was, without a doubt the best time of our lives. I could die happy knowing I had met her. THIS is what it was all about. I finally got it.

Then we did that two more times. My suit pants slowly transitioned to being hooked with a  rubber band. My thinner and straighter hair was often in a ponytail, then abused beyond belief and lobbed off into a pixie… My skin revolted anytime I even glanced at makeup. My life felt heavy. Work, family, school, repeat… I eventually traded the suit pants for leggings, and work for the stay at home mom life. Some might laugh at this point and say, “I never looked back” but the truth be told, I look back. A lot. Usually longingly.

Before we moved to Knoxville, I found myself in a place of complacency. Going through the motions to meet the needs of the ones I am responsible for. I often found myself working to “get back” to the historical versions of Melissa. The single beauty in Hawaii. The newlywed. The new mom… I felt like no matter how hard I tried, I would never get those parts of my life back. I feared I would just be another fat mom hollerin’ at her kids and grandkids in trademark southern phrases until I died.

I introduced you to all these versions of me for a reason. Last week, my family went on vacation. A week at the beach and pool, with naps and snuggles in between. Within 12 hours of being there, I found myself missing being so close to the beach. Missing our backyard pool in Tallahassee. Looking at our time in Tallahassee the way I have looked at the other seasons of my life – as the best years that can never be recaptured. A time that was so good we weren’t worthy of keeping it.

The simple fact is, my current life isn’t as glamorous as my previous ones. At all. I sleep very little. I only go shopping when necessary and never for fashion but function alone. My options to dine out are limited to places with a rewards app, a playplace, or a drive through. I drive a Kia minivan with a quarter jammed in the CD player and scratches from kids bikes being ridden too close; currently it also smells and I don’t know why. There are $700 worth of car seats that are rotated regularly to make room for bikes, groceries, library books, and to reduce the opportunity for swinging arms to make contact with siblings. I wake up before the sun but somehow still only have time to shower about three times a week. I worry that my house isn’t clean enough and that I will never be good enough. 

I don't know a single parent who can't identify with at least some of that...

We wanted to stay an extra night on our beach vacation – to extend that connectedness to the people I once was and the place that felt so much like home - but alas, another family was checking in that afternoon to make their own memories and we were destined to begin our journey back home to Knoxville. I was seriously bummed.

Seeing how sad I was, instead of hopping right back on the interstate, Jason drove along A1A with the windows down listening the the Jack Johnson station on Pandora. He was trying to extend that connection to who I was and the freedom of what my life used to be. He reached over from the driver seat and slipped his hand in mine. The song “Don't Worry" came on... Bob Marley has a way to reach the deepest parts of me. 

And I felt all the people I once was. The college girl on the beach. The young wife. The new mom. They were all right there.

In that moment, driving along A1A, I felt the highlight reel of my life, not in retrospect, but as it was happening. Everything slowed down. I heard my kids laughing as the wind snapped their blonde hair around. I felt Jason’s warmth, appreciation, and love for me as his thumb stroked my hand. The music and the beach view filled me with hope and peace that "every little thing, is gonna be alright..." I remembered that all those people, who were beautiful and had done amazing things, were sitting in the same seat as me. 

And I managed to feel the beauty of where I am. 

So often, we only feel the weight of our life. In my case, it is often the literal weight. We think our lives will be better if we could just get back to the weight we were in college… If we could just squeeze into our wedding dress… stop wearing the maternity pants once the baby is born! But sometimes the weight isn’t quite so literal, is it? Sometimes the weight is the hard parts of life we have forgotten with time – like:

College Melissa’s eating disorder. 
Newlywed Melissa’s fear of abandonment and need to learn communications skills.
New mom Melissa wondering, to this day, if her kids would be better off with a different mom.

As we drove, looking at the sand, water, and beautiful beachfront homes, I decided I wouldn’t trade what we are working on here for what I once had or something I would currently deem “better.” My history wasn't glamorous as I was living it; there was a lot of heartache before I was who I am...  I will not waste any more of my life longing for who I once was or what I once looked like - I will simply enjoy growing into someone better. I may not grow old in the sand or travel the world, but I will appreciate the beauty of the life I have and where I am. Because my history has provided too much wisdom and learning not to. I will love more deeply and be present for the good as opposed to just surviving the hard to look back on the good. I will relish in the smiles, breath in clean clothes, and laugh at wondering what I just stepped in.

Yes. My life is not glamorous. But this is the only life I have. And in 10 years, the life I am living now will be looked back on as the best years of my life. So, I better get to enjoying these now while I can.