But, right now my daughter is downstairs watching a Disney Princess movie as she decompresses after school and I have been trying to think of the right way to articulate what I want to convey with this post, and all that keeps coming into my head are the lyrics from the Broadway version of “Beauty and the Beast”. Human again.

So let me give this a try.

Life around here has been extra tough

tumultuous

trying

tiresome

lately. But, because this is not actually my story to tell, I am not going to do so; You can just take my word for it.

If these past two years were a mountain climb, I can say that we fell down the mountain many times and even when we got back up we were faced with things like unexpected hail storms and serious injuries. But This past week, man. This past week has been the part of the mountain where all of a sudden the incline becomes impossibly steep and trees appear, creating a canopy so dark that it is hard to see the surroundings and there are snakes. Lots of slithery snakes.

But, something amazing happened. I am scared to even type it, for I don’t want to jinx anything (we all know that I am incredibly superstitious) but this week, my lungs were able to adapt to the altitude, my legs were able to manage the tough incline and my eyes could see keenly through the darkness.

This is not to say that I have reached the top of the mountain; Actually, if I think about it, I don’t think I ever want to reach the top of the mountain. My goal is to keep climbing, to keep going up and up and getting stronger along the way, seeing more and more of the world around me as I get so high.

In any case, something kind of miraculous happened for me.

For the first time in a very, very long time, I felt like a human again.

March of 2012-October of 2013 I was a pregnant woman.

November 2013 I started with the severe postpartum depression and since then it has been a journey of battles and falls and sickness and weakness.

I have felt so fragile. Sometimes, I have been incredible fragile emotionally, and other times, I have been so very fragile physically and then, at the worst of times, it was both.

I have felt like this delicate shell of myself, going through the motions of life, which were too hard to begin with, and feeling so much like an other (which, by the way, I do embrace).

But, this week, I felt human again.

I can’t explain the shift, but it is perceptible to those close to me as well.

This week I was able to attend several social functions, despite incredibly stressful things going on in my personal life. I was able to work hard professionally and on my journey towards healing.

I enjoyed my friends and my family and life in a way that I haven’t in years. Literally, years.

I stopped losing weight for the first time since September. As I mentioned in the highlighted post before this, I am incredibly sensitive as to avoid any triggers for my readers. But let’s just say this. I stopped the loss, stabilized, and have gained a couple of pounds. This may seem like a small victory, but after having lost weight every single week consistently since September, this is huge. For me, it is huge.

And I am going to keep going because I have to keep going because I want to keep going.

When I was out for my one of my oldest and very best friend’s 30th birthday party on Saturday night, I got to sit next to two of my other very best friends and enjoy delicious food and laughter as we reminisced about the past. My friends, who have been very worried about me, didn’t worry about me as I sat next to them, that night. It isn’t that I am all better; I am far from it. But I am better. I feel human again.

For the past six months I have had a uniform, mostly because my normal clothing has not fit; Black leggings, a long tank and a sweater. This past week I branched out, wearing clothing in my closet that I have never touched before, trying new things, finding a new personal style. I wore a silk blazer with over the knee boots one night and a one piece, black lace jumpsuit the next.

The shift in me was never so palpable as it was yesterday, Sunday, as my family of four went to the mall.

This may seem like a mundane activity, but for us, it was a huge accomplishment for many reasons.

And not only did we go to the mall, but we went with no agenda. I had no timeline, nothing was off-limits. We let our kids create stuffed animals at Build-A-Bear and my husband and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes.

“Crying happy.”

We went shoe shopping for my daughter, and as both of my kids walked around, I pushed a stroller that contained one Rainbow Bunny and one Superman Bear.

My daughter said, “Mommy, it’s like we have three kids, but I’m the nicest one.”

I was reveling a bit in my new status as a human being, as we were getting ready to pay for my daughter’s shoes.

“Can I ask you a secret question?” My daughter leaned into me. “Is this the place with the popovers?”

“No,” I said. “That is Neiman Marcus, but if you want to go there, we can go there for a special, late lunch.”

I was able to go with the flow, something that has never been easy for me.

And then…

My son got lost.

My son got lost on the top floor of Nordstrom.

My son, who does not know how to effectively communicate, wandered off on a busy Sunday and was nowhere to be found. My husband ran to get security so that they would lockdown the store and I held my daughter’s hand as we searched and asked people if they had seen a little boy with strawberry blonde hair and glasses.

I consulted with all of the salespeople, and I did not feel anxious; I felt numb. I felt nothing.

In my head I thought, “Oh my god, someone kidnapped my son. What is going to happen to him? What are they going to do to him?” But I couldn’t really feel anything. I think that if I had felt, I would have crumbled, fallen off of the mountain to the very bottom.

I might not have survived.

After the scariest five minutes of our lives, an associate brought my son, his face formed into the saddest pout, into my arms.

I lost my son and was lucky enough to find him. And when my daughter asked if we could still go out for popovers, my husband and I both said that we could. We were shaken, obviously, but we could still function. We could keep going. We could keep living. We were human.

And so, the four of us sat down for our first meal out of 2015 (truly) and we toasted to our little family…over little mugs of chicken consomme.

And we toasted to the fact that it was the 9th anniversary of our first date.

And this little boy was his normal, happy self.

I had this feeling of pride as we left the mall yesterday, 4 hours after we had arrived, because we had done something that we hadn’t been able to do in years; We went out, without a plan, and actually enjoyed it.

Needless to say, I gave my kids extra hugs before bed last night, but I think that the crazy day brought my husband and I closer and that felt good.

This whole idea of being “human again” wasn’t something that I was able to articulate at the time, but today, when I thought about things, I realized that this transformation had occurred, subtly, but profoundly.

Today, I took care of my son, without childcare help, which, again, may seem like nothing to most people, but for me, it was an accomplishment. And, it was a joy.

So now, a day later, I feel a bit stronger. I feel like I have found my voice, with which I can advocate for myself. And I just watched my two kids dance to “Loving Cup” as my husband played the Exile on Mainstreet album through the speakers, filling the house.

Songs swirling in my head, emotions still being teased apart and understood, but all I know is that for the first time that I can remember, I feel human again.

And to feel human again is the greatest feeling,

as now I can keep climbing up my mountain, stronger, more skilled, and with a gratitude and an appreciation for the small things–

an unexpected field of wildflowers,

a break from the sun on a cloudy day,

a family sing-along–

and a-climbing I shall continue to go.

The post Human again. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

But I am also lucky enough to have an actual sister; She has appeared many times on here throughout the years, and although we don’t get to see each other as often as we would like, my kids adore her.

My sister and I are completely different. She is a stong, driven athlete and fiercely independent. She is an award winning journalist and her resume is extremely impressive. She is a vegetarian, a runner and she does not like to talk about her feelings.

But, the thing is, there are these things–these sister things–that outweigh all of the differences.

For there is no one else on this earth with whom I can discuss TV shows and characters and storylines like I can with my sister.

(Side note: As I am typing this, she just asked me if I had watched a certain reality TV show on Bravo.)

We have inside jokes that no one else would understand, and when we sing together, our voices resonate in perfect harmony. That is because we are sisters.

There are just some sister things. I can’t explain them. They just are.

 Last evening I got a song stuck in my head, but really, it was just about a measure of a song, one to which I knew not a single lyric, but I felt like I had heard it recently and knew that the only person who could  possibly help me was my sister. So I called her and said, “I have this song in my head and I have no idea who sings it but I think it is from a TV show or a movie and it goes something like this.” And sang a few “Dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun”s to her.

“It’s ‘Take Me to Church’ by Hozier,” she said, instantly.

There was not a second of hesitation. I ran to my computer and to YouTube and sure enough, she was spot on.

She couldn’t tell me where I had heard it recently, and then it hit me: It was from Tom Schwartz’s Instagram.

Fitting that this mystery song came from the social media feed of a Bravo network celebrity, or “Bravolebrity”, as they say.

But I don’t take it for granted, the sister thing, because as different as we may be, we also share something that I do not share with anyone else.

We look alike. Our voices are hard to tell apart on the phone. She was the first person I told when I found out I was pregnant with my son and she was the first person to take my daughter for a pedicure just this past weekend.

She knows things that no one else will ever know.

I may not always understand my sister, as we speak different life languages, but will always get each others’ melodies.

I always love her. I love her an incredible amount. And I know that the feeling is mutual.

I will always support her.

I will always be her number one fan.

And she will always be the person I call when I can’t figure out a song, when I can only come up with three notes.

Because she can figure it out for me.

Because it’s a sister thing.

The post Sister things. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

you will know that I am an enormous fan of the person and musician named Brett Dennen. You might know that my favorite song is “Sydney (I’ll Come Running)” because of it’s profound meaning to me. Or that I cover his song “Make You Fall in Love With Me” with my band, Fox & the Hounds.

If you know me in real life, you will know that I don’t just love his albums for the quality of the music, but because they have lifted me up during some of my lowest times while enduring my “Hard Story”;

Or this amazing story, during the height of my postpartum, and how, so serendipitously, the liner notes for “Smoke and Mirrors” read, “This album is dedicated to those who might have lost their way but found it again from within.”

Well, it has been a great ride following this person.

And then, he liked my Instagram photo.

Did you catch that?

Oh, hi, Brett Dennen.

Brett Dennen, himself, liked my Instagram photo. Sure he has favorited my tweets; yeah, he called me out for having a “beautiful voice” during his last acoustic show in Wilmington, DE; but when I saw this, I really think that my heart stopped. And I can hardly type, I am so shaky. I am a total nerdy fangirl right now.

This particular gesture means so much to me because it has to do with my kids, both of whom share my love for Brett Dennen.

My daughter likes to play “I’m Kristina Jackson“, Brett’s beautiful partner who is also an incredible natural foods chef and “holistic guru”.

We are both totally nerdy fangirls. But it’s OK. We totally own it.

Because that’s what Brett’s music is all about; be who you are, make no apologies, live your best life.

So today will forever be the day when I woke up from a two hour nap, walked in my daughter’s room to see her listening to Brett Dennen on the iPad, posted a photo on Instagram

and had Brett Dennen like it.

The end.

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So, when I heard this song, I was moved, immediately, and sent messages to my husband, and to J, for different reasons; because CSNY was our first concert together and because my inner spirit is a peace sign to her.

Tumbleweed, your inner spirit is a peace sign to me
Life is full of little tricks and we can always pick up sticks
And build again, that’s what we do

Harmony, the way we hold on when we tumble though the night
Life is full of strange delights, in the darkness we find lights
To make our way, back home again

Tumbleweed, I’m baring my soul to you
Tumbleweed, it’s all that I’ve got that’s true

Bite me now, with your confusion, your happiness and delight
It will only hurt a moment, then it’s gone and you can see
There’s nothing left, to leave a mark

Animal, care for your kind, in the way you always do
When the flower moon is shining, it’s eclipse and your lips smiling
Comfort me and I comfort you

It is interesting; when I heard the acoustic version of this song on the “Coffeehouse” station this morning, it was sung as “Tumbleweed, your inner spirit is a peace sign to me.” and that is the same diction used in the official listing of the song lyrics. However, in the link above, which is considered the video for the song, the lyrics are changed to “Tumbleweed, your inner beauty is a peace sign to me.”

I will take either.

Also on “Coffeehouse” I heard this old classic, about which I texted my main band bro, saying, “We should totally do this song!” and then proceeded to belt it out, emoting greatly, publicly, on Lancaster Avenue.

My drive took me to Vivi G. shoes in Eagle Village. It was the coldest day in recent memory, but I wanted to get my flip flop on.

I have mentioned recently that I am just finally starting to very, very slowly replace a few items from my lost shoe collection and I was so lucky that my girl, Jen, owner of Vivi G., hooked me up with my sandal start. But I also managed to have a little fun…

After my quick shoe shopping trip, I had a much more profound trip down memory lane. I met up for tea with an old friend. All that I can and will say is that this person was once very special to me, and though I have not seen her in closer to two decades than one, she now means more to me than ever. She is what I call a Unicorn; she is someone who is, if you can believe it, equally beautiful inside and out. Her inner spirit is a peace sign to me.

 The rest of my day was spent doing regular, every day things. I went to the bank. I picked up an entire roll of tinfoil off of my first floor. I spoke on the phone with my friends.

And when it came time to do bedtime, my daughter asked if she could read along with us.

My kid is reading and it is really cool.

I, meanwhile, could barely read “Fox in Socks”, despite the fact that I consider myself to be a master at tongue twisters (I even teach classes on the things!) and definitely said some inappropriate words. Sorry, Dr. Seuss.

We somehow made it through the Tweedle Beetle Battle and cuddled up and talked her favorite subject, once again: the plans for her upcoming birthday party. “We could do a swimming party,” she said. Her birthday is April 18. “Where are we going to be able to have a swimming party?” I asked.

“Miami!”

I held her to me and did want to let go.

I chose a new lullaby for my daughter tonight. “Kiss Me”. I thought she would like it.

I was right.

And a few minutes ago, long after we tucked her into bed, as I was working on gathering the music for this post, she came to my door and said,

“Keep on playing it,” she whispered. “It’s amazing.”

Her inner beauty is a peace sign to me.

The post Your inner spirit is a peace sign to me. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

I was just looking up the video that I made chronicling my past year in music, and do you know how YouTube shows you a list of videos down the right sidebar of the screen suggesting music that you may like, based on what you are watching currently? Well, I cannot imagine why, but if you are watching my Fox & the Hounds review, the top video that YouTube recommends for you is an obscure video of Brett Dennen singing “Out of My Head” in what appears to be a little guitar shop.

And the reason why I am sharing this, besides the fact that he is my favorite musical artist and he gives me warm and fuzzy feelings inside, is because I find Brett Dennen to be absolutely charming. He is loveable. And I think you can see that here.

And I cherish every charming moment I can;

like this morning when my daughter traded videos with a new yet old friend of mine, involving doggie dance parties, mermaid costumes and “The Book With No Pictures” recitations;

or when we were giving Lola attention and my girl ran upstairs, changed and came down in a pink dress (the color of Lola’s bow) and dog ears;

or, how my son put his head up to mine (his version of a kiss) and said, “Mama”;

or how my daughter said, “Daddy, can you set up my wifi connection?” and we said “Do you know what that means?” and she said, “No. What does it mean?”;

Just a few happy moments that I can gather up into one little, metaphorical charm to place in my pocket and keep with me today.

Give your love, give your love, give your love now.

Any you get it back and you get it back

Featured Image captured by Lindsay Docherty Photography in 2014

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Except, I wasn’t quite ready to get up, nor was I feeling my best, so I decided that while we were “up” we could snuggle on the couch watching music videos for a good hour before starting our real day.

I will share with you our playlist, but I have to say, it is going to seem painfully unoriginal, as I have recently written about most of these songs, but that’s how things work in our house (and, presumably in the house of anyone who has children; a song gets stuck and is everything until the next song comes and takes it’s place. There was a six month David Bowie streak during my pregnancy with my son–my daughter was obsessed–which means that I can no longer listen to “Starman” without feeling queasy).

So, our morning soundtrack sounded a little bit like this:

Uptown Funk, our go-to dance party song of the moment,

which led us, by way of Mark Ronson, to “Valerie” as it is a song I sing with my band, both acoustic and electric,

which took us to “Summer Nights”,

followed by “You’re the One that I Want”, both from Grease, which is still in her top two favorite musicals of the week;

I asked her if we could listen to “Somebody to Love” as it a) now has a special meaning to me and b) is an amazing song;

She was allowed to choose next, and picked this song, something she listens to with her dad on the way to school;

Then it was Elvis Costello’s “Oliver’s Army”, which I am shocked that I have not previously written about; I almost can’t believe it to the point that I am skeptical of the accuracy of my search function on this site. “Oliver’s Army” defined my family vacation car rides with my parents and sister. We both thought it was called “Oligazombie”.

Then, for my son, his favorite song (I’ll let you figure out the one about which I am referring; he is decidedly less fickle than my daughter. He finds a song and sticks to it).

And watching my kids dance, and watching them experience music, something that is so important to me, was the perfect way to start the day.

May your day be filled with a lot of funk, somebody to love, a minimal amount of lumps, no zombies and, of course, that bass.

By the way, the featured image for this post is a photo from about 25 years ago, when I first got into “Oligazombie”, Queen and Musical Theatre; Since it’s #tbt and all, I figured I’d go with it.

The post A Musical Morning. appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

1. I am not at all in touch with today’s current music scene. I know about Sia’s “Chandelier” because of an SNL skit sent to me by a friend, I have heard of only about half of the mainstream artists and know very little of their songs. I am exposed to some new music by being in the band, but that is primarily because some of my band members have elementary-school aged kids who are really into singers like Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. I could not identify Iggy Azalea in a lineup. Judge as you will.

2. I am a firm believer in dancing it out.

Yesterday, we were all feeling a little blah, and I suggested a dance party to help the mood.

Dance parties are our thing.

My husband was not enthused. He actually said that he didn’t feel like it. So I obliged…

for about 45 seconds.

And then I grabbed the remote control to our big living room TV, the XBox1 controller and told my system to “Go to Music”.

Let me back up a few weeks. At Our New Year’s Eve party, one of our friends told me about his favorite new song, “Uptown Funk” by Mark Ronson featuring Bruno Mars. He said that it was so fun that he listened to it on repeat 10 times while getting ready for the night out. He brought me into the Living Room to play it for me. And then, a few hours later, he and I did a choreographed dance to the song, trying to mimic the music video. I’m sure we were amazing.

In any case, since that night, it has become a really popular song in our house and in our circle. One of our best friends sent out a group text the next week, admitting to his obsession with the song. My husband has been playing it in his car. It’s just a catchy, fun, feel good song and Bruno Mars is so talented. His dancing! I think he performed the dance slightly better than we did, but I may just being hard on myself.

In any case, yesterday my husband was mopey and the kids were like this, so instead of leaning into the funk that everyone was in, I decided to, instead, go “Uptown Funk”.

You just kind of can’t not dance when this is on.

So my husband held my son in his arms and I swung my daughter around in mine, and we had a family dance party.

We danced it out.

And you know what?

It worked.

Because dance parties work.

And, ‘Cause Uptown Funk gon’ give it to you.

Hallelujah, indeed.

The post Uptown Funk appeared first on Mommy Ever After.

Several years ago, I wrote a post specifically about my love of and history with music; But, in truth, music has infiltrated almost every space of this site. I write about our daily dance parties, my deep love for the music of Brett Dennen, my rich history with musical theatre and the soundtrack that makes up my life.

This past year, through all of the darkness, I have had one unexpected and unparalleled bright spot. I have been able to make music.

First, as a teacher. This past summer, I was the performing arts director for a most wonderful program and got to teach classes in musical theatre. The middle and high school students whom I taught were incredible; so open, so brave, so talented. I got to teach and stage and choreograph numbers from Rent and Wicked and Newsies and I got to give young people the confidence to share their voices with the world. I have been teaching musical theatre professionally in some capacity for nearly 10 years, but really, since I was 14 and came back to my middle school to be assistant vocal director for their musicals. I am passionate about music and about instilling a feeling of self assurance in young people, and so this summer was a, pardon me for this, season of love.

But nothing, nothing can compare to the band. I am the lead singer of a rock band called Fox & the Hounds. I am lucky enough to have my next door neighbor serve double duty, as he is my bandmate and our alpha. I started playing with him and another supremely talented guitarist in June of 2013, singing cover songs, messing around on Spotify and watching my belly grow by the minute.

Last winter, despite all of the bad going on in my life, we managed to keep the band alive. And not only did we keep it going, but we added to it, so that by the Spring, we had a bassist, a drummer and had gone electric. My summer was spent in the basement of our guitarist’s home, sharing beers and stories and rocking out as hard as we possibly could to every single song we each wanted to play.

(Except for “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow”. I could not get them to play “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.” To be fair, they could not get me to sing “Living on a Prayer”.)

Each member of the band brought something different in talent and personality and practice was something that I looked forward to, almost craved, each Wednesday night. It fed my soul.

Towards the end of the summer, the guitarist and I even started to write some of our own material, as he came up with a blues jam to which I put words and a melody.

Bands evolve and morph and at this time we spend most of our practicing playing acoustic, back to our roots, hibernating for the winter, as I say.

I try to tell my bandmates how much they mean to me. I write them nice emails thanking them for being the best parts of my otherwise bleak year. But they are dudes. They are good to me and ever so kind and compassionate, but they are still dudes, and I will never get a “You mean so much to me, too!!!!” in return, but I’m OK with that, because they give me that by continuing to play with me whenever possible.

Because of Fox & the Hounds I have grown tremendously as a musician. I have learned to perform in a whole new way and have tackled musical obstacles that I once thought impossible. And I have my guys to thank for that.

I don’t want to continue to embarrass them (in fact, I am positive that being publicly praised on Facebook is about the last thing that certain band members want, but…tough). I just want to say thank you.

***

Out of all of the things that defined this past year, I feel so blessed that music has been one of my greatest supports. The gratitude I have for the music in my life is hard for me to describe in plain words.

I got an incredible gift from my favorite singer, got to see a ton of live shows, and, had quite possibly the coolest experience of my life when I saw Brett Dennen play an acoustic show in Wilmington, Delaware, as I was leaning on the stage (I was that close), and he asked the audience to sing along, and then he called me out for having a “beautiful voice”, engaging in an entire conversation about my singing and my band with me in front of the packed audience.

But when it comes to music, there is only so much you can say; sometimes you just have to hear. So, I have made a small compilation of my year in music. The gigs, the dance parties, the bloopers and the craziness. It has been the best ride of my life.

*Note: at the end credits, Oasis was left out mistakenly from our list of brilliant musicians. So Oasis, if you are reading this, please don’t look back in anger.

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This was sent to me yesterday by a dear friend. I needed it.

I then sent it to another dear friend. She needed it.

Every day, we all carry things with us; hopes, fears, ideas, identities…

Some of these things lift us up. Some of my labels I wear proudly:

Wife, mother, friend, daughter, grand-daughter, teacher, twin, writer, confidant, sister,

dance partier, loud laugher, decorator, front-woman for a rock band…

Yet there are some layers of myself that I wish to shed.

I will probably always be on the slightly anxious end of the anxiety spectrum.

But I would love to no longer be a sufferer. A worrier. A scaredy-cat.

Those things weigh me down. They are the labels that can make minutes feel like hours, make days feel dark and make my stomach feel like it has a led weight inside of it.

I want to be lighter.

So I am making a conscious effort to take off the things that I no longer wish to wear.

I have written many times over the past year about the shift in my friendships; that through the trauma of postpartum depression and it’s after effects, my friends have become my family. We talk every single day. They humor me when I send out 15 emails about our holiday cookie Pollyanna party, because they know how important it is for me to embrace this holiday season. They are just my people.

Then there are the new friends I have made. They have changed my life. The ones who spent last year sitting on the floor with me, as I opened up about my depression. The ones who have been so selfless. The one whom I’ve followed on the internet for years, and turned out to be even more beautiful and amazing and spectacular in person. The one who understands every one of my faults and loves me because of them, not in spite of them. The one who sees a pair of Fox leggings in the store and buys them for me, because…obviously. These friends have been a gift. I carry them with me, now.

And as far as everyone and everything else,

all the drama and the ghosts and the pain that try to cloud my mind and cause me anxiety, I am trying to let it go.

Like Elsa.

Just letting it go.

I don’t want to carry them with me anymore.

And so I won’t.

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