BUILDING A HOMESTEAD FROM SCRATCH

Before we even had a place to call home, I had a long list of homesteading goals in mind. My brain is always ten steps ahead of my life, making lists and planning every detail of the future ten years before it's even a possibility. It's a blessing and a curse. I come into all projects (probably overly) prepared, but it leaves little brain space to actually 'live in the moment' - and I usually annoy Alex with my perfectionist habits and ability to shoot ideas out of my head like laser beams. When you spend years thinking through an idea, you have a pretty solid picture of what it's going to look like and that's hard for me to let go of. You can imagine what raising kids does to me and the level of stress that I'm at with this whole building a house ourselves journey that we've set out on. So far everything has gone smoothly - well except for we're out of money. . . and my shower drain is crooked! There, I said it! The guy who did our concrete did a fantastic job (seriously, I didn't know concrete could look so beautiful), but he didn't straighten up our square floor drains before he poured the concrete, so they're just in there all willy nilly like. I'm trying to embrace it as a quirk - you know, 'it gives it character' kind of thing, like the written temperature guess-timations on our oven dial in Brooklyn. It's one of life's cruel jokes that it's in a place I will undoubtably look at every day.

Anyway, my approach to farm life isn't any different, of course. Joel Salatin talks about the aesthetics of a farm and how they don't matter so long as things are functional. Blame it on me being a lady or whatever, but I have to disagree. I'm fascinated by pretty much anything he writes, but I was an art major after all. I'm all about some aesthetics. I can't help myself. I feel like we aren't just creating a farm. It's not just about some animals and some food. We're creating a lifestyle, a community, our haven. I have big dreams for this overgrown piece of dirt of ours and it doesn't involve building things out of plywood (well, not too many things). When people come to visit, I want them to forget about the world for awhile. I want them to come in search of a pumpkin with their family, savor their time here, and leave with peaceful memories, like they just returned from a mini vacation. So I'm all about doing things right (and beautifully) the first time around. My mind has been racing and it's all swimming around in there with no place to land, so I put pen to paper and came up with some basic plans. Gathering inspiration is probably my favorite part of any project, so of course I have way too many unrealistic ideas you can sort through here, if you're interested in getting lost in the black whole of the internet (Pinterest). If I could spend my mornings making lists and sipping coffee, I'd be a happy woman. I'm already a pretty happy woman, but you get where I'm going.

FIRST YEAR
- build a house, of course (a blog post is in the works, but if you don't want to wait you can see our progress at #thejacobshomestead on instagram)
- fence + establish a garden plot
- build some coops and raise some chicks for our egg + meat flocks
- clear some land for pastures
- put up a clothesline (because money saving goals are the best goals)
- build a patio + pergola

SECOND YEAR
- start planting fruit trees in the orchard in the Fall
- fence in our pastures
- buy and breed milk goats
- buy and breed heritage breed pigs
- build some pens and raise meat rabbits
- build a tool shed

THIRD YEAR
- invest in beekeeping supplies + start our hives
- build a root cellar + greenhouse
- venture into the business world selling produce + eggs + other handmade goods at the farmer's market/online
- buy and breed sheep for wool
- finish planting fruit trees + berries in the orchard

LONG TERM
- live debt free
- drill a well
- go off grid with solar panels
- buy pasture land nearby to raise cattle on
- build and rent out an AirBNB cabin
- offer farm tours + u-pick strawberry/watermelon/pumpkin patches + possibly CSA boxes

Our overall goal in homesteading is to become self-sufficient and a big part of that is learning new skills, so I have a long list of personal goals that includes things like canning, bread making, spinning wool into yarn, dying fabric with natural dyes, learning how to make pottery... but mostly turning my black thumb into a green one because no joke, I haven't been able to keep one single plant alive in the last six years that Alex and I have been married. Realistically, we might kill everything we lay hands on in the next three years, give up, and move back to the city. . . but let's hope not. That would make this the most expensive science project in history.

Right now, all this just seems like a pipe dream, which is kind of why I sat down to make this list in the first place. Instead of this cluster of overwhelming ideas floating around in your head, you have a physical breakdown of all that you need to accomplish. Plus, I'm a believer in putting your dreams out there - not in a kooky, 'the universe will reward you' way, but more as an act of bravery, a flag flying high saying, 'this is what I'm fighting for.'

What is your family fighting for? What goals are you trying to accomplish, homesteading-related or not? I can't wait to say your flags raised in the comments!

IRONY + THE LONG WAY HOME

When I set out to (re)name this little space, we were in the beginning stages of moving to Brooklyn. I knew the kind of 'feel' I wanted the name to have, the image I wanted it to portray, how it would sound when I said it, that it would represent our family values in some way - it would say in a subtle way, 'This is who we are!' I even knew it should be four words because I'm a symmetry freak. It took me months of pondering to arrive at The Long Way Home. I was on a wandering walk through our old neighborhood, pushing Ev along in front of me when I asked her if she wanted to take the long way home - and it stuck. I came up with several others that escape me now, but finally decided, much like naming my children, that this space couldn't be anything but The Long Way Home. Little did I know how ironic this name would come to be.

It's painfully obvious even to this day, but I loved living in Brooklyn. I loved our quiet little apartment on our quiet little street. I love that it always looked thrown together no matter where you put anything. I loved that our mattress was on the floor right next to Evie's and we used to fall asleep holding hands under my pillow. I loved the old hardwood floors that used to frustrate her to no end as she'd try to stack block upon block and they would fall no matter how careful she was. So she'd gather them all up and stake her claim on a different, hopefully flatter piece of floor with a determined and slightly concerned look on her face. I loved our insanely pricey rent that felt like a bargain compared to the rest of the city, mostly because we had a real kitchen. I loved listening to the city come alive each morning and watching our brick wall view turn a golden hue that only fellow Brooklyn-dwellers have seen. I loved using the word 'bodega.' I loved the corner cafe with $20 sandwiches and cereal bowls of coffee. I loved our tiny mailbox and our obnoxious door buzzer. I loved the bagels. Oh, how I loved the bagels. I loved being able to buy a slice of pizza for a dollar. I loved the way the guys at our favorite pizza place said mozzarella. I loved that our church was held in a school auditorium. I loved that we gathered in people's impossibly small apartments during the week. I loved the Manhattan view we'd get on our grocery shopping nights leaving Fairway. I loved and hated Fairway. I loved that everyone had a love/hate relationship with the city. I loved our watermelon picnics. I loved that the playground was never empty the entire time we lived there. There was always someone there for Ev to play with.

I loved the subway smell. I loved the R train, the consistently late R train. I admired that about her, I accepted it because I'm consistently late anywhere I go. I loved that we lived at the end of the line and knew we were home when we heard, 'This is the last stop on this train. Please leave the train. Thank you for riding with MTA New York City transit.' I even sort of loved feeling like steamed broccoli in the Summer heat. I loved our secret Staten Island beach spots with oily water and sand full of trash. I loved the handfuls of sea glass we'd walk away with. I loved walking miles to get anywhere. I loved the street sweeping day, car moving scramble that happened each week. I loved the sidewalk horses that Evie went nuts over. I loved New Yorkers and their constant use of the F word. I loved how people really lived in the Spring, Summer, and Fall because the Winters were so unbearable. I loved that you could go for a simple walk and never be bored. I loved how beauty could find you in the most unexpected places. I loved our view of the Verrazano and watching boats pass by on the Hudson. I loved how people celebrated their New York-iversary. I loved that people complained so much about living there, but refused to live anywhere else. As Anne Lamott says, '. . . [I loved] the feel of being part of a healthy mob, part of a pulse, part of a collective heartbeat. . . [I loved] what it felt like to be part of a huge struggle, where people were winning and losing and triumphing and being humiliated and for once it wasn't you.' I love how living there was kind of like childbirth - after a while you forget how hard it was. I loved it all. I would be a lifer. Sometimes I lay in bed and imagine walking along those Bay Ridge streets with my two kids. It's hard for me to comprehend that a place that is so much a part of me, will never be a part of both of my kids. I sometimes forget Noble wasn't there with us.

As much as I loved Brooklyn, there is a bit of my soul that is nourished by New Mexico. I love the sunsets, each one different from the all the rest, but beautiful in a way you'll never forget. I love the adobe houses with turquoise trim. I love that you get to experience all four seasons, but you really only have to experience snow when you feel like driving up the mountain. I love the freakishly bipolar Spring weather. I love the Cottonwoods. I love that the days are so consistently beautiful that you wake up never thinking about what the weather will be like. I love the Christmas luminarias. I love the old man at the farmer's market that never stops shouting, 'Fresh tortillas!' in his Spanish accent. I love that you can tell what neighborhood you're in by how many Subarus are around. I love their strange exclamations like 'Eeee!' and 'Ah-la!' I love when someone calls Evie 'mija.' I love the trees outside our window that Noble strains his neck to watch from the rocking chair. I love the bike lanes and trails scattered all over the city. I love the love that the lifers have for this city and the effort they put in to keep it quirky. I love living three blocks from the zoo and that it's basically become our backyard. I love that we're surrounded by so much beauty and mountains are always in our background. We'd never make it through our 'places to see' list if we lived here for a lifetime. I love that feeling I get when we're coming home from the East and we spot the mountain silhoettes off in the distance. I love that you can wear whatever you want here and no one will look twice. I love that you can practically wear sandals year round and most people do. I love the frequent Indian Summers in the middle of Winter. I love that it's never hard to find something interesting to do here. I even kind of love the lack of a good Chinese food place. I love that the vast majority of people embrace local, organic food. I love the ridiculous amount of breweries and that you can buy craft beer almost anywhere. I love that both of my babies' birth certificates say 'Albuquerque, New Mexico,' a place where people are advocating for a mother's right to birth the way she wants. I love that that this place will always be a part of them no matter where we go - it called us back twice after all. There must be something special here for them. Even though there is so much to love about each place we've lived, we've known that they all wouldn't be forever.

CHANGES

The first post here on Hey Mama, Rock Me. started a little bit like this ". . . I believe in talking about your dreams like they're already coming true. . ." At the time, I was talking about my dream of being a mother, but that really has translated into my life in so many different ways over the past few years. What started out as a digital scrapbook of sorts has blossomed into a full blown love for writing. I love coming to this space. I love sitting down with a cup of coffee each day and being inspired by others and sharing my goals and joy and beautiful things in this space. I've been writing here for three years and there hasn't been a time yet that I've had to make myself sit down and blog. I take that as a sign from the universe that I should really throw myself into this because honestly, I'm a pretty fickle human. I get so inspired by so many things at one time that I usually bounce around from one thing to the next, never really sticking with something long enough to know whether I'm good at it or not. There have been moments in the last few months that I have looked at this space and the numbers and all the things every blogger says doesn't matter, but it does a bit if we're honest - especially if your family's dreams are wrapped up in whether you're successful at what you choose to do each day - and been disappointed. I'm not looking for fame or fortune, but it would be nice to feel like the amount of effort I put into writing and the time that it takes away from my family has contributed in some way to where we're attempting to go.

Frankly, I'm a woman that likes instant results. I'm impatient and always get ahead of myself in every situation. After every apartment that I looked at in Brooklyn, I've fallen asleep planning each detail before it was even ours. I started having thoughts about blogging along the lines of 'well maybe I'm just not very good at it' or 'maybe I should just give up and focus on something else,' but it dawned on me - I couldn't stop writing here even if the answer to either of those statements were yes and after that realization, the numbers really don't matter. I'm going to write here whether there are 30 people reading or 30,000 people reading and isn't that what everyone is looking for in a 'job?' One that you couldn't not do even if you have to do it for free. This blog is a piece of me - it has stretched me in my writing and photography skills (both of which could probably use a bit more stretching), recorded cherished moments from my journey to and through motherhood, and it's allowed me to find mentorship and inspiration through other women. However, if I'm being honest, I can admit that I haven't thrown myself into this as much as I could have. A few months ago, I was reading a book about small business and I came across a sentence that I highlighted and underlined - 'If you treat your business like a hobby, you will always make hobby money.' It's a pretty obvious statement, but I've treated this as a hobby up to this point expecting beyond hobby results from it.

So I've started putting a lot of thought into what I want to do with this space, the things I want to write about more often, and how to make it all click. I'll be making little adjustments here and there over the next few weeks, and like anything else in life, this blog will always be evolving, but the major stuff is finished. The first thing you probably noticed today was the name change - Hey Mama, Rock Me. has served me well over the past three years, but I started to feel like the direction I wanted to move with the content here was going to outgrow the name and felt that this life transition for our family was a good time to make a blog transition as well. There is no doubt that I will always write about motherhood - it is so deeply ingrained in who I am - and pictures of Ev will probably always make up a large portion of the posts here, but I wanted a name that more genuinely reflected our family as a whole. So 'The Long Way Home' was born from our desire to always take the long way home, to slow down and explore together, to seek joy and savor the little moments.

For a long time I've just made do with the layout I had while believing it wasn't so much the design as it was the content that would keep people coming back. I still believe that's absolutely true, but there's something so good about the design reflecting the content. It makes the whole space feel a bit more genuine. It's like waking up and taking the time to pamper yourself a bit and put some real clothes on rather than spending the day in your pajamas. I just feel more inspired! (If you're looking for an easy to install but beautiful layout, check out Blog Milk.) Along with updating the overall look of the blog, I also wanted to make it a little more explorer friendly, so I've added two new sections in the right column - 'I write about. . .' and 'features.' I also have plans for some social media buttons! Fancy, right? In the fixed column on the left you can find all the normal navigation stuff (Notice the 'shop' link?!). I'll be spiffy-ing that area up a bit more over the next few days as well.

Finally, if you've been around for quite awhile, you could gather that we live on a tight budget. I debated for quite some time on whether to start offering advertisements on the side bar and while I respect those of you who are 'purists' and blog for the art, a small income from this endeavor would be really beneficial for our family. I have a lot of ideas floating around in this head of mine and usually have to decide whether it's worth taking out of the family budget to accomplish them. I won't bore you all with the details, but if you think your company or blog would be a good fit over there, send me an email! I look forward to making new friends and discovering new blogs and brands through this! And of course, I don't plan on this ever becoming a product filled robot blog. It will still be heartfelt and full of life and joy!

Well, I guess that's all! Thank you guys for being here and sticking around through all the growing pains. I'm humbled that so many wonderful people join me in this space - if you've never introduced yourself, now's the time. We're all just friends who've never met, so don't be shy! Take a look around, have fun, and leave a few comments. I cannot wait for what's to come here!

A NEW LITTLE PROJECT

If you've been here awhile, you've probably read all about my ponderings on having an only child - what I'm about to say is going to shock those of you that have. Before I was pregnant with Ev, Alex and I wanted 6 or 8 kids. I don't know what kind of new age drug I was on or what was so easy about my life that I thought I should ever take responsibility for eight humans, but that was our plan. In my perfect future dream world, not only would I be popping out dream babies every two years, but I would have the time to go back to school, start an art career from home, cook delicious meals, homeschool my lovely school bus of children, and remain madly in love with my husband. I never said any of this out loud or even consciously thought it, but I assume I had to believe that to ever agree to having eight kids.  Luckily my husband saw the light at about the same time I did and we just looked at each other like, 'I was crazy. Were you crazy? Ok let's get sane together and raise this one baby together and maybe think about another later, but probably not.' I say all of that to get to this point - I finally found the time to do something besides sleep and eat and clean and write here.

I'm not going to exaggerate. We are in desperate need of some extra income. I don't say this to sound an alarm or ask for pity - it's just a fact that life is hard to navigate without money. So I've been brainstorming about ways to work from home doing what I love for over a year now and the single thing that was stopping me was my perfectionist nature. My desire to alleviate some of the pressure off of Alex (who is working night and day and trying to finish a degree and well, the poor man is tired) finally overroad my OCD tendencies and here I am. I've opened an Etsy shop. It isn't perfect. It probably isn't what I'll sell forever, but possibly. I don't have any fancy graphics made. I don't have all the social media pages set up for it, but I made some things and opened a shop and that's what I'm trying to focus on right now. I set out on a mission to work with what I already had - so many of my goals are surrounded by financial needs (a new lens, a new computer, editing software, classes, etc.) -and I just wanted to get started on something. So head on over there and take a look around - it's not what I imagined I'd be doing for a living, but I'm pretty proud of what I managed to create.

WANDERING

When I was young and in love with this city and a boy who I never imagined would end up my husband, much less living this dream with me, my mind was obsessed with what it would feel like to come home to New York City for the first time. Before we packed up our lives in a little box on wheels and traipsed across the country, I had been here a total of three times. I've never really believed in love at first sight except for the ability to love or not love this city upon first meeting. This city isn't a place you grow to love - you're either infatuated or not. Alex had been here once, three months before we left Albuquerque. Typing that out makes me realize how ludicrous that sounds, but it always felt right. I like to think NYC has a knack for that, guiding people in who are meant to be here. I'm convinced that fate calls New York City home. You can feel it when you wander the streets. I feel like things must be better in this city, like all you have to do is whisper your hopes and dreams up past the skyscrapers and over the rivers and the city gives you little glimpses of beauty to help you along your way. 

I feel the need to write about what it was actually like coming home to this city for the first time. We came across the Verrazano Bridge and drifted off to the right, following signs for 92 Street - not 92nd - the sign says 92. As we pulled up to a red light, ready to turn onto our street, I just laughed to myself in disbelief and looked out the passenger side window at Brooklyn, the Brooklyn. Alex looked at me with tired eyes and a grin spread across his face. Laughing for no other reason than exhaustion, he took a break to ask me what I was laughing about. I took a moment to think of the right words and couldn't - 'this, this isn't the way I imagined it would be.' He asked what was different. I motioned to Evie in the back seat, 'Well she wasn't supposed to be here and I never really thought it would be you in that seat.' He looked forward and drove through the light, stopping again after moving just a few feet. 'Is that ok? Are you disappointed?' I smiled, 'Not at all.' I hung onto this dream for a long time, carried it around with me everywhere I went through many seasons of life and just as I was ready to let it go and make peace with it never happening, the stars aligned. Here I am and the waiting was more productive than I thought - I get to share this with them.

I never really knew why I wanted to be here or what I would do when I finally made it here, but I did know I wanted to wander. It was almost like that's all that was calling me here - the ability to endlessly wander. I haven't even had a chance to walk through Manhattan much, which is where I always imagined I would wander, and I'm satisfied. I can walk the same street every day just a few blocks from our house and I feel like I accomplished something life changing. Beauty saturates this place, but not in the most obvious of ways, which makes the snippets of beauty all the more important for me to savor. So this is the beginning of a series, a seed that I've held in my pocket for years and man, it feels good to finally take it out and put it in the ground. 

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We made it!

Do you ever think back on a time in your life and 'I don't know how we made it' fills your mind and overwhelms you? Even though it's over, the anxiety and the struggles and the fear from those moments still haunt you? I think I will always feel that way when I look at this picture. We're here. . . in our home. . . in this city I've dreamt of since I was a little girl and I still can't wrap my mind around it. I still can't shake the cloud that's been following us around the last few months. Through the trials and uncertainty and basically just loss of our lives as knew them, we were all a little battered and broken down and now I sit here and think 'what now?' And I know the answer, but the question still remains because the answer is so broad, so uncertain. We dream bigger. We explore. We try to forget about the things that have always been taken care of no matter how much worrying was done about them like money and jobs and debt. We love. We seek beauty. We find joy in unexpected places. We build relationships. Building a new life is beautiful and exciting and overwhelming and nerve wracking all at the same time. I find myself thinking thoughts I haven't had since high school like 'What if I can't find any friends?' Then I realize I'm just a mess, a grown woman worrying about making friends.

It's been pretty quiet around here over the last few weeks and even after the move was finished, we were all busy just living - cooking dinner together, watching movies, unpacking boxes, all the things we haven't had time to do in months - and it felt good. This whole process has been sort of unreal. When this idea entered our minds, Alex and I looked at each other like, "You realize we're crazy, right?" We had just bought a house. Albuquerque was finally starting to feel like home. It wasn't just the two of us anymore - we had a baby. We were comfortable and it was nice, but I think it scared the hell out of us too. For as long as I can remember, we've strayed away from anything resembling the American dream and then without any warning we backed ourselves into a life that felt exactly like what we said we had never wanted. So we threw this dream out into the universe with doubtful thoughts like 'this is going to take a miracle' we took it step by step, day by day wondering when the door would shut and tell us to just go home, but it never did. Every prayer was answered, every problem was solved and the entire time we had no idea what was going on, we had no control over any situation, which is why I'm baffled when I wake up and this is our reality now. A pang of sadness hit me like it always used to as a camera panned over New York City on a TV show we were watching last night and it stopped me in my tracks - we made it. That's in my backyard. That's a subway ride away. New York City is our home. It isn't a lost or waiting dream anymore.

So a new chapter for our family has begun. We drove into the city on Wednesday (04.09.2014) to shouts of 'NEW YORT! OUW HOUWSE!' from the backseat. Ev was so happy to have some resemblance of a normal life back. I held the hand of the man next to me who has driven us to every new home over the last five years and we just smiled an exhausted smile. It's all we could do. It took all the strength left in us to unload the small trailer and pull our things up to our third floor apartment. Even after getting rid of at least 75% of our things, we're still finding things we don't need as we unpack. After hauling it across the entire country and letting it sit in storage for three months, some things just don't seem as important as when we packed them away. When we were leaving Albuquerque, I remember standing in our house with boxes of things all around me at 2:30 in the morning and looking up to Alex in the doorway with a defeated look on his face - 'I'm sorry babe, nothing else will fit.' So we spent hours whittling it all down, sitting cross legged in the floor pouring over each box, examining the contents and searching ourselves for some sort of comforting thought to make it easier. We worked hard for what we had - we didn't want to just give it away, which is selfish in retrospect. As we pared down our belongings, I'm confident God was whittling down the last hold we had on things in our life. So I prayed what probably seems like a ridiculous prayer to most people. I prayed for God to send the right people into the right place to find these things we'd worked hard for. I prayed it wouldn't all end up in the trash. I prayed it would all bless someone out there who needed these things but couldn't afford them any other way. I thought that I would leave that house uneasy, but I haven't felt that at peace in years and as we unpacked our things into this apartment, I could think of very few things we left behind that I wanted back.

The next morning, after we had moved into the apartment, we all sat on the floor and ate leftover pizza for breakfast and headed off to IKEA. We bought a few things we needed and it felt good to start making this place a home and talking about plans, but I started to feel anxious at the same time. It's so easy for me to let covetousness creep into my heart and to want what we can't afford, so I'm trying to hold onto this experience we had of simplifying our things and remind myself that things are just things. We want to make this place a home because we haven't done that in any other place we've lived and that will require some buying, of course. And I have desires like every other woman that all boil down to beautifying our life through furniture and clothes - it's what women were made to do, but whatever we bring into this home I want to be sure to hold onto it loosely.

We sort of have a track record of doing things unconventionally, so it's no surprise that we've been met with questions of why and how and 'don't you want to give your kid a normal life,' but I don't have the answer. It's as simple as the fact that we couldn't imagine living any other way. We want to live simple lives, travel more, actually accomplish dreams, and give our child experiences over things; in a city of consumerism and busy lives, people just don't see how these line up, but we do. We want to look at life and not ask what is the next thing we can buy, but what is the next thing we can do, the next place we can go? We want to start focusing on things in our family that have long been crowded out and ignored. We want to have time to sit down and breathe, picnic in the park together, visit museums and not be too exhausted to even enjoy ourselves, and find time to go to the beach and just soak up the sun. Life is beautiful and thrilling and worth living even without all the stuff and I want that to resonate with my daughter through out her whole childhood. I really think that the idea of the American dream is a trap - it's so luring and makes you think you're in control, but you're really just spending your life looking for something you'll never find. You'll never have enough. You'll never be happy enough. Your life will never be perfect. Once we came to this realization, life became a lot more fun to live. It became more about adventures and less about vacations, more about doing the things that we love to do and less about job promotions and salaries, more about relationships and less about filling our time and life with things. Life is short. Here's to more adventures and a new beginning for our family! Let's do this.

Abounding Joys

It's been said that there is a time in everyone's life that they realize they have a real purpose, that their lives and what they do with them each day matter. If there is anyway to be on the complete opposite side of the spectrum from that, I think I'm there. This year is a year of stepping out of our comfort zones, pursuing dreams, and facing big changes for our family. I went into this journey holding my hands out saying 'take it, take us, take the anxiety and worry and unknowns and do something beautiful because only you can' and I've slowly crept my way back to fists clenched around the unknowns, worry awaking me at night, and an air of sadness around us, guilt at what I'm not doing, not able to do on my own. I've been in this place before and I know how much is asked of a person when they're in these shoes. We've handed our life together over to the One who created, the One who blessed us with each other, and are being stretched and changed. We're asking for the desire to give up control because it doesn't come naturally. There is nothing in us that wants to face these changes, to put the comfortable life we had behind us and head for the city. There is nothing in us that makes us stronger than the next person or any more brave. We ask for courage because our bodies and minds are tired. We're just ready to rest. We're ready to be home, but we're being taken care of and for that, we don't have to ask to feel grateful because we really, truly are. We have food and we have clothing and we have shelter and we have each other - beyond that, I thought we had little else, but I awoke to abounding joys all around us this morning. They're all around and they're free, but at a high cost to our worldly possessions and desires, our materialism and self-gratification.

This weekend we all went on a little road trip together to see if we could find an apartment. Alex had drill three of the four days we were there, so much of it was left up to me. It was just Ev and I running through the city and hopping on and off the subway for two days. I made phone call after phone call, trying to harden myself against the people who blew me off and put on a brave face for those who thought they could swindle me. I've dealt with feelings of anxiety and fear for a long time and I've written about it here just a little, but this was one of the hardest things I've had to do, one of the hardest ways I've ever stepped out of my comfort zone. I feel like a wimp saying that, but apartment hunting in New York City is no joke. I managed to find something kind of perfect though. It's in a safe area, below our price range, roomy enough for the three of us, and so much more. I put in an application and put down a deposit on Saturday, but we haven't heard anything yet, so we wait and pray. The requirements for apartments in the city are pretty strict and we really aren't the best candidates as far as income goes - most places require that you make forty times the monthly rent in a year. Regardless of that, we know our path so far has been made easy and we hope that this won't be any different.

This nomadic life is wearing on us, it feels like it's tearing us down, but we have faith in a God that called us to a journey that he will see through to the end and hope in a future being spent in the city we love, in a little apartment that will feel like home. The emotions I've been facing have been interesting - I've never been homesick for two places at once, one that was never supposed to become home, but very much did and the other, a place I've never called home, at least not yet. Our lives feel like they're at a stand still. We're in limbo and it's hard to go on with life as it was when you know more change is just around the corner. But wow, do we look forward to this change. We've been working towards this change for years, imagining a life in Brooklyn - the day that we stand in our first apartment, keys in hand, will be a monumental one. I've dreamt of that day for so long, I'm sure I'll wake up the next morning at a loss for emotions. This next step, moving to Brooklyn, it's an important one, a life-changing one - I can feel it. This is where we will grow as a family, where I'll grow as a woman, where Alex will walk across the stage to receive a diploma that all three of us have sacrificed for, where dreams will be found and molded and come true, where the majority of Ev's childhood memories will come from. It's a special city all on its own, but soon it will be our special city.

2014

In some way, for as long as I can remember, whether in blog form or a note scratched on an old receipt or an unconscious intention, I've made a resolution or promise to myself on January 1st in hopes of a better year. I've always been drawn to attempts at bettering myself and I enjoy a fresh start, which is why I have a weird love for grocery shopping and moving and a new year. 2013 was the best year I've had since entering into adulthood and I have high hopes for the next one. I have so many thoughts and hopes swirling around in my mind about 2014. The possibilities are endless. This year is monumental for me and this little family of mine. For the longest time, the dream of New York City has hovered over me like a thought bubble, constantly there and shading out the possibility of many more dreams prevailing. As I write, Alex and I are sitting cross-legged on the bed together - me writing, him reading, Ev napping - in my sister's apartment in DC. We've finally finished all of the errands we needed to run after the four day drive here and this is the first chance we've had to sit and breathe without a list of to-do's invading our thoughts in a week. I had a lot of time to think of the drive here and the thing that is at the forefront of my mind for this year is to take care of myself and to nourish my relationships. I've never been one to choose a word for the year because of the flighty nature of my mind - next week it would be different, but I'm pretty committed to making nourish my word and focus for 2014. So often, I'm focused on the checklists and the mess that I expect too much of Ev and neglect myself and my spirituality and relationships. Alex is going to be gone for the majority of the year, so I think this will be vital for Ev and I.

In so many ways, I'm an adventurous person, but in a lot of other ways I'm not. I've always wished I could be that person that travels alone and isn't afraid of getting lost, who is confident and comfortable doing new things alone. Fear (of what, I don't know) has prevailed in my life for too long. It's embarrassing to admit, but somedays Ev and I don't step foot outside. Before Ev came along, I had so much opportunity to travel and explore new hobbies and I didn't do any of those things. I didn't intend on this post being about anxiety, but it's important for me to clear the air with myself before I start a list of goals. This has been something I've struggled with for so long and each year, I push myself further up this mountain, but I haven't made it to the top yet. 'Disorder' is sort of an ambiguous word. Do I have an anxiety disorder? No, I don't think so, but maybe no one actually has disorders - maybe we're all just different. . . What I do know is that this fight with myself has lasted long enough to have accompanied me through many stages of my life, including motherhood, and it has started to affect my child. So I'm doing something about it. I'm dealing with it. Am I anxious and tense everyday? I used to think shyness was to blame, but I have moved past that and still find myself composed, but perpetually strained and nervous. From the outside, I'm normal - I'm fairly social, I have interests and hobbies, I get out pretty often. But never does it come easy. I'm easygoing, but when forced to face a new situation or something outside my comfort zone, tension hits. There were a lot of times in college when I struggled to leave my apartment and though this was my excuse, it wasn't because I didn't feel like going to class. I loved (and still love) learning and reading, especially about art, but the thought of stepping outside my comfort zone, walking the streets to class alone and into a classroom full of people I didn't know paralyzed me. 

I grew up like this - shy and insecure and unable to stand up for myself, and I used the 'this is who I am' excuse for too long. As a child I was nervous, unable to speak for myself at times, didn't have a lot of friends, unable to even make a phone call for years, worried about my looks and what I was wearing in a way that was beyond the normal teenage insecurities and while I've overcome a lot of that, especially in the last few years, life has presented new challenges that I've struggled to face. Now that I've moved into adulthood, I sometimes feel like Alex is my buffer, my safe zone, and that's lovely and romantic until your safe zone leaves and you're forced to face those same feelings all over again. It's just much easier to find a calm with him around. While this may seem like a step in the wrong direction as far as dealing with my fears, I plan on staying with my sister in Washington DC until Alex and I and Ev can all be together again. (Right as I hit publish, Alex got a phone call and found out he may be leaving for training later than we though - touché, 2014. I may be braving this alone after all.) While fear is a factor, I came to this conclusion mostly because it doesn't feel right to go and make a home in New York City without my husband. This is as much his adventure and dream as it is mine and I want to do it together. Anyway, these insecurities and struggles that I mentioned - it's time to face them head on while my buffer is gone. It's time to stop letting fears and anxiety affect my ability to take my kid to a park or play date or museum more than once a month. It's time to start loving myself in ways that I might not be comfortable with, but that I know are good for me.

So here is my plan for making 2014 count:

- DOCUMENT: (I still haven't finished posting all of the photos from last year's 365 project, but I can't pass up the opportunity to start another.) The 365 project was so good for me last year and I'm sure I couldn't put down my camera and stop documenting if I tried. Taking photos of everyday moments is just ingrained in me. However, taking a photo each day became a struggle in quantity over quality, so I plan on choosing a picture each week, a 52 project. I'm hoping that with less pressure to just snap a photo for the day, I'll have more time to really learn about my camera and develop some manual skills.

- CATCH MY BREATH: I usually spend nap times writing, so I rarely get time to read a book or take a bath or drink a cup of tea without reheating it five times or enjoy a yoga session without a feisty little girl stealing my mat and sticking her finger in my nose, so I plan on being intentional about scheduling time to catch my breath and refuel - no cell phone, social media, blogging, running errands, paying bills, etc. for a few hours, once a week.

- SIMPLIFY: I know this is a redundant word being used in so many places all over the internet, but a simple life is really important to our family. We ended 2013 by simplifying our belongings. We put what would fit into a 5x8 trailer and left the rest behind. Now it's time to organize and simplify other parts of life, including this space. I often spend hours in a day reading blogs and looking at Facebook and Instagram - once I start, I can't pull myself away until I'm finished. So I'm purging all of my 'closets' of the internet and spending less time surrounding myself with other people's thoughts and lives and more time cultivating my own thoughts and life.

- ORGANIZE: There are a lot of areas of our life that will be hectic this year. Most of our belongings will be in a storage unit for six months out of the year, so although I would love to organize our home when we're all together again, I'm not speaking of physical belongings. I have a lot of projects that have been sitting at the back of my mind, waiting for the time to get them done. 2014 is the time. I want to get our family pictures backed up and organized so that we can sit down together and look at them regularly. I want to get our favorite recipes in order so we can cook them all more often without having to hunt the recipe down.

- READ: I have a really (really) big list of books that I want to read, and I'd like to make a dent in that this year. I also want to make an effort to read to Ev more regularly. We've been so busy during the last few months that our story time has kind of fallen to the wayside.

- GET OUTSIDE: When Spring comes, I've set a goal for Ev and I to get outside everyday, whether it's a simple trip to the nearest playground or a trip to a museum that lasts hours, whether it's beautiful outside or a raining, sludgy mess.

- COOK: It's really important to me to make cooking and meals a big part of our family life. I'd like to make an effort to plan meals each week so that cooking can be slower and more enjoyable. I'd also like to get a bit more adventurous in the kitchen and make use of the cookbooks I have laying around.

- TAKE CARE OF MYSELF: I want to start running. I've made a lot of excuses for far too long about why I couldn't start running and I want this to be the year that I get in better shape. I also want to start doing yoga more regularly. I got into a groove for awhile and look back at that time fondly. Yoga is one of the only types of 'exercise' that I really enjoy.

- CREATE: I have an insatiable desire to create and I always have, but like anything else, every time I sit down to start a project, fear creeps in allows me to convince myself that I'm not good enough. I have so many dreams that I've been holding on tight to for so many years and this is the year I do something with those dreams, at least one of them. I want to support my family creating.

- PRAY: I've had a tough time making this a priority this year and I want that to change. Just as I want to take time to catch my breath, I also want to take time to be still and immerse myself in prayer each week.

Here's to you, 2014! To the joys - I'll be grateful. To the heartaches - I'll trust that they're part of a bigger plan. To the unknown that lies ahead - I am hopeful. To the unexpected adventures that life throws our way - they make for the best memories. Here's to becoming better versions of ourselves, dreaming wild dreams, failing and getting right back up, and loving like we never have before.

P.S. 2013 resolutions. 

Linking up with Ohdeardrea, and many others.

Guest Post • Hand and the Heart

Any of you who have been readers of HMRM for an extended amount of time know about my love for adventure, so I was so excited to share this guest post with you from Andrea over at Hand and the Heart! I gave her the choice of writing about a dream she had accomplished or her favorite winter recipe and like I would have done, she chose to write about a dream. Honestly, just like in real life, I'm sort of a distanced blogger. To keep myself from spending too much time on the computer or reading instead of writing, I keep my blog following to a minimum, which means that I'm not in a lot of blogging circles and I don't have a lot of women that I'm super close to (yet!). My point in saying all of this is Andrea is worth following. Her writing is simple and honest and heartwarming and I just love her and I haven't even met her. So here it is: a guest post about this awesome lady climbing a mountain. (I am so jealous of your feat, by the way! My husband and I have talked about climbing a lot and would love to do this someday.)

P.S. If any of you are interested in guest blogging on HMRM, send an email my way. We have a lot of driving and settling in to do over the next few weeks, so there will be plenty of room for other lady bloggers' (or men, whatever) thoughts. (andrealanejacobs@yahoo.com)

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Hey there my friends! I blog over at Hand and the Heart. I'm so excited that Andrea asked me to contribute to her space here. I think she is one of the most genuine people I have come to know through blogging, and I love that about her. Plus, we share a name and have similar birth philosophies, so that basically makes us soul sisters, right!? :)

I'm going to stray off my usual writing topics about babies and motherhood, and share a story about climbing a mountain. Andrea asked me to write about a dream I have achieved that I'm proud of, and standing up at 11,239 feet is what came to my mind first. I know, I know...I probably should have thought about "becoming a mother" or "marrying the man of my dreams" or something. Sorry fam.

Standing on the summit of Mount Hood, Oregon's highest peak, was a dream achieved for me because honestly I never thought it was possible. I've always idolized my dad's adventurous nature and his zeal for the great outdoors. I spent much of my childhood hiking through the Olympic Mountains and camping under the stars in the middle of the forest. In college, I asked my Dad if he would help me climb something. We set our sights on Mount Hood, for my Dad had climbed in many times before. I wore my climbing boots to the gym every day, working that stair master to the ground. Physically, I was at the top of my game. Mentally, I was nowhere close. There was so much fear blocking my way. Fear of falling, fear of dying, fear of failing. I read the articles about people who had died on the mountain. I focused on the dangers, instead of the rewards. We turned around halfway to the summit. Broken-hearted.

A few years later, we decided to give Mount Hood another attempt. But the living, breathing mountain was ferocious in her attempts to deny us the chance.The fog wrapped around us and created zero visibility, the damp was chilling to our bones, and it was apparent very early on that once again, Hood wouldn't let us reach her peak. Again, broken-hearted. I felt like this was one dream I would have to let slip through my fingers.

A few weeks later, we decided to give it one more go before it got too late in the season to climb safely. I still didn't think I would ever make it to the summit. Sitting at the base of the mountain, staring way up into the heavens seemed so far away. My mind wandered to the fumaroles, the crevasses, the bergschrund on the hogsback that was opened. The hundreds of ways I could fail. But at 2 a.m., I dutifully strapped on my crampons, with my ice ax tied securely to my pack, and we set off for the rising sun.

My breath became regulated, my steps became routine. I pushed, and pushed, and pushed. I watched the moon set over the horizon and the sun cast duplicate shadows of the mountain on the land below. I didn't dare look the way we came. We finally reached the point of making the final summit push at an area called Crater Rock. My dad roped the three of us together again, but my part of the line grew tight. The fear wrapped around me like the fog on our prior attempt, and I couldn't move. The summit was so close, a mere 60 minutes up. But I couldn't. The tears came. My dad's gentle voice telling me that if we had any chance of making the summit, we needed to keep moving before the sun started melting the ice pack. I looked up, and I looked back. Stuck.

My husband. My dear my husband. Where I failed myself, where I didn't believe, he did. He climbed up to me. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered a prayer in my ear. He told me I was capable. He told me that he would never let me fall. I wiped my tears, took a breath, and set off after my Dad and his encouraging words, up to the summit. It was steep going, we took an alternate route up the south side old crater chute, and I had to focus every bit of my energy on every single step. The final pitch hit around a 50 degree angle up the chute, and with one final grasp my ax dug over the lip of a snow cap, I passed the most dangerous section and lifted myself to the summit of Mount Hood, just as beams of sun cast a heavenly glow over the ice formations. A dream achieved.

Of course, with all mountain climbing, both figurative and literal, reaching the summit is only half the battle. Our time at the top was spent cautiously (one woman fell 2,500' to her death down the North side a couple of years ago). The climb down often offers more opportunities for sliding and tripping, and statistically speaking is the most common time people are killed. I didn't realize how steep the pitch was until I was faced with going down it, side stepping and praying I wouldn't lose my nerve or my balance. Going down was intimidating because falling doesn’t mean you slide for a few feet and stop, falling means you typically slide and tumble all the way down whatever slope you are on until you fall into a crevasse, over the edge of a cliff, or into a fumarole where you die from affixiation if the fall doesn’t kill you. Usually, the weakest link (being me) would descend first in the rope line, with the stronger climbers behind so they can self-arrest if the weakest climber were to fall. However, I was so nervous that I couldn’t go down first, so my husband went in front of me to help talk me through and guide my steps, and my Dad, being the strongest and most experience climber, was in the back. I literally had to keep telling myself, "stab ice axe into snow, step left foot down, pause, step right foot" (while looking for a safe spot to step), repeat, to keep myself focused on what I was doing and not what I was afraid of. I am so proud of myself. I was very scared, and crying, but I kept moving and stepping and making clear decisions.

A climber above us knocked loose a large chunk of ice that came barreling down the side of the mountain, knocking me in the calves and nearly out from under myself. My dad and husband still tease me about the string of profanities that came furling out of my mouth. I'm fortunate that was the extent of it, for many climbers have been killed when falling chunks of ice have hit them. The rest of the trip was spent glissading down the mountain, covering so much ground, speeding along on such a high that I didn't even notice the ice and speed had burned two holes straight through all my layers and tore the flesh straight off my buns. Two large, red, fleshy wounds that resembled road rash on each butt cheek. Bloody, oozy, and extremely painful. Of all the injuries I could have gotten while climbing…I get two raw sores on my bottom!? Ha! 

Climbing, and summiting Mount Hood was such a rewarding experience, both mentally and physically. A moment I will treasure forever. Every time we drive through Portland and see Mount Hood looming over the city, I can barely believe I stood on the very top of it. This dream achieved was a true labor of love. My dad's experience and guidance got us to the summit, but I could never have made it had my husband not evaporated all the fear from my mind (and then later cleaned my wounds for weeks on end). Dreams are achieved when we work together. It took me three tries, but I finally did it.

I don't know these guys, but this is a short video clip of the chute I climbed. 

And a lovely shot of the view looking down (for perspective).

See you on the other side!

I was on a blogging roll there for a while, but things have slowed down a bit and gotten quiet around these parts since I announced the move. Fact is, things are just complicated right now, so complicated that I don't even know where to start as far as explaining it all. Sometimes it seems like you announce a dream is coming true like 'Hey universe! I'm going to make this happen!' and the universe just gives you the big middle finger, two middle fingers even. This stuff is hard work, this making dreams a reality stuff. Sometimes I just want to curl up into a ball and stay right here in Albuquerque, New Mexico forever because it's comfortable. It's what Ev has known her whole life. It almost feels like I what I've known my whole life. We've settled into a life nicely here. I've always had the dream of moving to New York City in the back of my mind, but now that it's a reality my mind is FREAKING OUT. It's like, 'hey, what are you going to dream about now?' What if it isn't as great as I've always imagined it would be? Getting approved for an apartment is turning out to be a word I can't share in this family friendly space and I've seriously thought to myself 'We're going to be homeless!' so many times over the last week. Luckily, my sister is away in January, so we'll be staying in her apartment in D.C. and Alex will drive the few hours to base when he needs to, but that's just a temporary solution.

We found water damage in our house so we've had to rip the entire ceiling apart in the living room and put new sheetrock up so we can sell it, Alex's truck broke down (the truck we're trying to sell to pay of our debt before we go), and as I watch our bank account drain I'm just like 'What gives?!' At this rate we aren't going to have anything left by the time we get to New York. But somehow, for some reason, we still want this. I can still picture the light at the end of the tunnel. I still think all of this stress and this headache and these middle fingers from the universe are worth braving because I'm an optimist and I have hope in something, someone that most people don't. I can still picture our family in this beautiful city, living a life we love and I can't let that go. I can't settle for comfortable just because the alternative is unknown. After we finally make it to New York, Alex is going to have to leave for training for five months and I think that's the hardest part for me, that's what keeps me turning around, wondering if we should just stay put. I'm strong. I can make it through months without him, but this little girl is innocent. She is lost without her Papa during the day and when he walks through that door at the end of each day, that's the highlight for her. She won't understand where he is or that he's coming back or how long five months is. No matter how busy I try to keep her and how much fun we have, I know she will always stop and bend over, putting her face up close to mine and say "Papa?" What am I supposed to tell her? My heart will be breaking right along side hers because this man is my every thing, my best friend. Five months is a short period to spend apart from each other compared to what a lot of other military families face. I'm sure a lot of people feel this way, but we're different, we aren't a normal family. It's way too hard for us to be apart.

Anyway, I leave you with all of this whining to basically tell you to hang in there. I'll be back soon, but right now we're just trudging through a lot of crud in our lives and it doesn't leave a lot of time for writing or thinking. I'm going to try to line up a few guest posts so this space isn't completely abandoned as we move over the next few weeks. See you on the other side!

This City

One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years.

- Tom Wolfe

A hundred times have I thought New York is a catastrophe, and fifty times: It is a beautiful catastrophe.

- Le Corbusier

When I'm in New York, I just want to walk down the street and feel this thing, like I'm in a movie.

- Ryan Adams

I've started this letter in twenty different ways and each sentence is lacking.

The thing is, I started out trying to justify our family's decision, to explain our desires in a way that anyone and everyone could understand and agree with us.

But there are still going to be people out there who don't get it, who don't support us, who will judge us and call us irresponsible.

I started out trying to write down everything I love about this city, but people have been writing about New York for centuries and everything still hasn't been said. There are still people out there who don't grasp the magic of it, who only see the ugly, the dirty, the run down, the busy, instead of the diversity and history and raw humanity and wonder of the place we are to call home soon. I'm not here to change their minds.

A very long time ago, when I was a dreamy teenager making my way through what I thought was a time of hard decisions, I walked up a flight of stairs and onto the streets of Manhattan for the first time. It was as if the city had pulled down the stars and placed them where she willed. New York is one of the only cities in which reality looks better than the postcards. There were so many decisions I didn't know the answer to at that moment, but I knew this city was where I belonged. As I drug my luggage along the busy streets, I marveled at something I had never imagined before, something I couldn't have imagined had I tried. I had found the place my soul would long to be for years to come. When I bought my first car, I imagined driving into the sunset one day, to this place full of adventure and excitement where I would make a life for myself. What I didn't know was that life has a funny way of just happening. Your fears overwhelm you. Money gets tight. You fall in love. Well I sold that first car, but I could never sell my dreams short. Many times in the last ten years or so, I've tried to talk myself out of what I wanted, but it couldn't be done. This desire has followed me through many seasons of life and now I will drive off into the sunset in our box on wheels with my husband beside me and a little girl one part her Papa and five thousand parts me in the back seat.

When I was pregnant, I had a lot of women describe the changes that motherhood had brought about in them. I was determined and strong and confident before, but motherhood has made me stronger, more determined, more confident - it is what it took to make me want this bad enough to take the leap. We're moving to New York City!

Papa has been working on the paperwork for months now and we had been told that if he was even approved to move from active duty/Albuquerque to reserve status/NYC, we wouldn't be moving until March. Well he received an email on Wednesday saying he had been approved and has to report by January 11th. We were not prepared mentally or financially to leave so soon, but this is an opportunity we can't pass up. We have hope in a God that provides and we're confident this will all work out. We have an incredibly long list of things to accomplish in the next few weeks, so our lives as we know it will probably be put on hold until we move. I know you'll handle it all better than we're anticipating though - you always do.

I often ask myself what I can give you. When I say this, I'm not speaking in terms of material things or even really great things that money can buy like an education. I mean how can I contribute to who you are as child, as a human being, as a woman? What can I offer you and instill in you as your mother that will be serve you well through this life? I find myself constantly adding to this list, but when I strip it down - I want you to know how to love. I want you to love people for who they are, not what they can give you or what they can do for you or the feeling they give you or the way they make you look when you stand side by side or even because you feel like you have to. I want to teach you how to look at someone ugly and broken and angry and realize they are ugly and broken and angry because they need love. I want you to know how to see the beauty and find joy in simple things. I want to help you know what you're passionate about. You don't have to follow the crowd. You don't have to make money to be successful. I want you to do what you love.

With that being said, a large part of the reason this dream has withstood the test of time and parent hood is that I feel this could be the perfect place to help me in instilling these things in you.

One of the things that has stuck out to me about this city is that it has a poetic way of becoming ingrained in the souls of its' people. You don't just live in New York - you're a New Yorker. It is a place you never forget, a place you can never truly leave, and place that makes its mark on you the moment you step foot on her sidewalks. This city is saturated with passion and talent - millions of people walk her streets: struggling, dreaming, creating, living, making history. I feel grateful that you will get to be surrounded by such inspiration on a daily basis. I can only imagine what it will be like for you to grow and learn in this place where everyone is striving to be themselves and follow their dreams. I love that you will grow up with a clear message that if you love something, you can walk out your door and do it every day. This city reinforces what I long to teach you: that anything is possible. In a world full of grumps, it's important for you to hold onto that and believe it. It's a tall order for me to stop right here, to stop talking about the love I have for this place, but I don't have to. Because dreams are coming true, I get to spend years exploring the city of my dreams with you and writing about it along the way.

All the Love in the Universe,
Mama