It’s the Wyoming state of mind.

Racing Trains

Racing Trains

Fifteen minutes, that’s when she’s due at my next photo shoot. And somewhere between the sign that read “Pavement Ends” and the lyrics from Miranda Lambert’s first album throwing lyrics gorgeously through my gold SUV’s factory speakers, that’s where she remembered to breathe for the first time in weeks.

In all the busyness of her hectic lifestyle, she forgets how to to slow down. The opportunity to come home, to drive windows down at 65, Wyoming wind throwing her hair back at County Road 215 and Railroad Road, that’s where she finds herself drawn to her deep roots of this incredible state. State of Wyoming; state of mind.

Ready for a slow down

Ready for a slow down

Somewhere, amidst the gravel crunching under her tires she realized she slowed down while driving faster. Breathing deep, finding the answers in the gusts of the plains. Puppy dog tails chasing her dust, amidst overgrown fields and cows shaking their ears at her passing annoyance, a pasture holding her retired gelding, tumbleweeds chasing lonely hills. That’s where reality came to a screeching halt and gave her a sense of peace of been longing so deeply for. At the yield sign of intersection 215 & 148, she pulled off to cry, listening to the quiet urge of “pull over and write”, answering the beckoning to leap at the opportunity to just be.

Clear skies, clearly Wyoming.

Clear skies, clearly Wyoming.

Be me; find that inner peace that comes only on dirt roads, mangled fence lines and billowy winds. Find the me that no matter how busy we get, how cemented I am in my new, exciting directions, remembering that her roots are firmly grounded in this place.

You leave home & change; you grow. But the memories of the places that healed you before, strong enough to heal that same exhausted spirit again.

Renewed, rejuvenated and absolutely blessed, she drives on. Flipping off sign 154 for good measure, southbound to her new home and newfound roots and nowhere to grow but up and fabulous; it’s the state of Wyoming state of mind. ❤

Upward,
Nomz

71 degrees of sunshine and randomized spewage.

It’s been literally months since a blog. I work at an accounting firm when I’m not out flaunting my social skills, and January thru April 17th and no longer, I disappear. Tax season slurps me up like a fat kid at 7-11 holding the latest flavor of slushy, or the Blue Raspberry, which is obviously the best. This post is not a warning even, that I’m leaping back into blogging because it’s only March and I’ve barely come up for air.

This brilliant breath of air, surrounded by sunshine (all 71 degrees of it, mind you) flowing through the chaos of the office, sleepy kitty supervising, slight breeze begging me to come up with a wild excuse to leave early for the day…is the perfect time for random spew.

*fist-pound*

Let it flow; Let it go.

~I’m oddly captivated by this whole March Madness…thing. I don’t have a CLUE what happens in the 64 (right?) games of it, but I had to join a pool for work, and while I’ve definitely became the entertainment of the office with my picks, it has my curiosity peaked and secretly checking the scores. Maybe sports aren’t as overrated as I’ve been accusing them to be. If nothing else, I love the excitement they bring. Between March Madness, the Superbowl, the Daytona 500, the Quidditch matches, and every huge rivalry in every sport that happens around the world, I love that it gives a reality break, something to !!!!!!!!!! about, something that doesn’t require CNN, a President, or a bad thing to happen for the attention of the public to turn it’s head. It’s a thing of tradition, despite the madness and chaos of the world.

~Admittedly, I’ve been part of the “if you can’t beat them, join them.” team of pessimists lately. I’m normally one of the most optimistic people in all of the lands, but lately, I’ve had no problem finding reasons to whine. I think it’s my allergic reaction to the time change, combined with sheer exhaustion and working mom guilt. It’s not a very fun place to be in, and I’m frolicking myself right out of it. Optimism might not be reality, but you’re a fool if you think pessimism is either. Realists, put mind over matter, and choose how their worlds will turn round, and in what shade.

~I was SUCH a critic of my daughter having homework in kindergarten this year. And while I still think it’s a bit much for such a young mind, it thrills me to be able to snuggle in at night and let her read an entire chapter book to me and her younger sister. AT AGE SIX. I’m applauding public schools, and am blushing with pride over my brilliant girl.

~I read somewhere this week that we’re born loving the world, and the older we get, the more we fear it. It was a shocking reality for me, and I plan on reversing my current frame of mind before I run out of time. I’m nearly 27 and a half, and I can’t wait to make the next decade the most risking, most loving, most thrilling ride of my life. I’ve learned things the hard way for the last ten years out of fear. That’s quite enough, I think. This quarterlife-crisis has nearly ended, on to the next!

~I have an astounding feeling of regret that I don’t own more board games. Suggestions would be lovely!

The phones are ringing, the cat has awoken from his slumber, and it’s nearly time to update the basketball pool. I am barely short of two hours from aviators + windows down, and I’m checking out with the hopes that you guys missed me as much as I missed you!

Love,
Nomz

Silver Lining: Working Mom Guilt …rectified.

I work at an accounting firm. I thought about leaving that sentence out in case creepy stalkers are out there trying to find my location, but I figure it’s valid, and vague enough that I’m safe. ish. Anyway.
So, starting January 1st, and ending around April somethingteenth, my social life vanishes, my internet existence diminishes, and the hardest part, my time with my kiddos is minimal.

And I’m a whiner. That loves her job, PS.

And a planner, so I’ve been dreading my time away from home since December. I’ve been tucking them in at night, squeezing them longer, apologizing for coming home late and leaving early in the mornings. I cry about not getting to volunteer at their schools, or even pick them up from school. I worry that they’re going to feel neglected and end up being those really sad kids with messy hair, iffy wardrobe choices, and slippery grades.

The weirdest thing is happening though. They’re surviving.
I’ve taught them to be self sufficient, and I’ve showed them that while mom will always be the favorite person (riiiiiiiighthahahahaha), but it takes a village. And I have one. And they’re amazing, and my girls are thriving. I’m not fine, but they are.

I have so much guilt about being a working mom. Like I’m missing out on all of the good stuff. And opportunities to hug them.

And THEN I was watching Law and Order: Criminal Intent last night, where one of the characters had a wife in the military. She got about a day and a half with him and their five year old girl before being deployed again. I realized that things could be a lot harder. And while I’m not necessarily being heroic at my job (save for handing out taxes with good news, 50% of the time), I do get to be the first to see them wake up for their day, and the last to snuggle them before they’re back to dreaming for the night. They’re brilliant, they’re loved, they’re supported, and there isn’t a bit of guilt worth holding onto about it.

With this madness comes bliss, with this whine comes silver lining. I absolutely bow to all working moms doing everything they can to keep their family both afloat and loved enough, and I’m near tears over the women out there serving our country first. Your strength is astounding, your perspective admirable.

And to my village especially, thank you. For the hours put into their schoolwork, preparation to get them to and from school, healthy meals fed, cute outfits bought, sturdy shoes adorned, beds made, dishes done, vitamins given, car seats secured, and mom comforted. Brandon especially, I could not make it even day to day without your support.

Thus beginning a new blog series. Silver Lining…to be continued.