What Makes A Family?

What is a family?

Really. 

What is it?

Is it the people who brought you into this world and any others that they brought into this world as well? Is it the people who love you the most? Is it those who you can always count on? Do they have to look like you? Sound like you? Or even be like you at all?

One of my sisters and I look almost nothing alike. I look like the sun and I had a falling out a decade ago and haven't been able to be in each other's presence since that fateful day. She looks like an island goddess. I have a light brown lion's mane where she has beautiful dark curls. We are biological sisters but does that matter if we look nothing alike?

My dad is a wonderful man. He and I share the same earlobes and love of fresh veggies from the garden. I'm pretty sure the list ends there. I'm more adventurous than he can stand and he is unfailingly sensible. He loves the beautiful home he has enjoyed for over 40 years and I can't remember the last time I spent two birthdays at the same address. He draws beautifully and my stick figures need some work. We have learned to happily agree to disagree over the years, which has saved our relationship I'm sure! How can we be so different and still be family?

In college my husband played hockey and after we got married, I was inducted into what can only be called a very unique family. You see, many of the guys on the team had left their homes in their early to mid teens to play for teams in new states, or even new countries. Their teammates became their family. I don't mean to say they abandoned the families they were born into. More like they added onto the house, not bought a new one. And when I married my husband I married into this crazy, hilarious, rambunctious, unfailingly kind and loyal family. We have spent weekends with them, celebrated weddings, babies and holidays. My children know many of these crazy hockey players and love them. They are family. 

Over the years my family has evolved. People who I always believed would be top of the list have fallen further down that list than I ever imagined possible. While others I never expected have become paramount in the lives of myself, my husband and my children. And you know what? That's okay. Families, however they are defined, are messy and crazy and exhausting and wonderful. Each one looks a little different and they often evolve over time for which I couldn't be more grateful. Because as they evolve they can grow to include more love and more people who want to walk through life enjoying each other's company and helping one another through the difficulties life presents. 

So whatever your family looks like and however it came to be, celebrate it. 

Because we all need people who care. 

People who show up. 

People who love. 

People we're grateful to call family. 

-Kel

So guys, what's your favorite thing about your family? Has your idea of family changed over time? I'd love to hear from you all!




(Photo Credit: Brad Peterson at bpdesignerportraits.com)

A Stool, A Jigsaw and A Magic Gift

At my house we have a shabby yellow stool that if you look closely around the corners you can still see the original shade of "What Were You Thinking" green underneath. (yeah, I'm pretty sure that was the exact name of the shade).

The other day my son and I were talking about this little stool. You see, I build furniture and I have since before he was born. And apparently he thought I was just brought into this world with my dream list of tools I would like to fill my imaginary shop with. But really it all started with this shabby, beautifully imperfect stool.

I had seen a similar one in a store but as a dirt poor newlywed college student I had a hard time even affording jelly that had real fruit listed on the label for my PB&J. That stool was wildly out of the question. But I did have a terrible little jigsaw that would usually work during a full moon if I whispered sweet nothings to it and said a prayer or two. And as soon as I found out there were 1x3 boards that came with your own set of monstrous slivers for under $2 how could I resist? I had never built anything in my life but couldn't see how that was relevant.

By the time my husband got home from work that night our little apartment was covered in saw dust (wait, most people don't cut wood and build things in their living rooms?...oops.), the dog was chilling in the corner looking a little concerned about all the banging, sawing and rants of frustration, and I was screwing in the last screws of my very first masterpiece. Okay so maybe it looked like it may have been inspired by Picasso, but if his can be called a masterpiece, why not mine? To some (okay most) it may seem a bit wonky, but to others (like my mom perhaps? Or maybe just a pathetically broke college student) it is wonderful.

Now you may be wondering why on earth I've told you more than you ever wanted to know about our  lovely yellow stool. Well, my son walks into my bedroom, looks at our big beautiful headboard and long shelves that he watched me slave over for days turning a pile of lumber into my masterpieces and thinks I must just have a gift. He thinks it is my natural ability and wishes he could do that too. He hadn't known I had built our little yellow stool that could've been designed by Dr. Seuss. But most importantly, until our conversation about that little yellow stool, he had no idea how long it has taken me to finally create pieces that are great. He didn't see all the ones that were awful or that I had to fix or scrap all together. He didn't see all the ragged edges of pieces cut with that temperamental jigsaw. He mostly sees the best things I've made. The ones we've kept and loved. And not all the work it took to get there.

Still lost? What I'm saying is don't we all do this? We look at what someone else can do and think it must come naturally or easily to them. They are so lucky that they can_____. I wish _______ came as easily to me as it does to them! They must have been born with that amazing talent! And if I had the best tools everything would come out just as wonderfully. But you know what? Most of the time things take work. Most of the time there's a serious learning curve where you will get things wrong a few times. And most of the time people give up because they don't think they have the magic gift that is required. But more often than not the magic gift is plain old hard work. That's all. Go try. Then try again. And again. And again. You will learn and get better at it- whatever "it" may be. And if you keep at it, someday someone will wonder how you got so lucky to be born with such a gift.

A Letter To My Anxious Little Boy

To my sweet, anxious little boy,

My sweet little worrier. I should have known. Your first encounter with mud and you were sure you were Clark Kent and this substance must be Kryptonite. After spending your college fund on taking you to one of those fancy kiddie haircut places that is basically a mini Disneyland equipped with car and rocket ship chairs and every children's movie ever made, you walked out trimmed to perfection and a bit dehydrated from the waterworks that started before the clippers were even plugged in. 

I should have known then that some things would be so difficult for you. I should have known that just because making friends and articulating your thoughts and feelings came so easily to you, it didn't mean the rest would be effortless. 

And every time I see a panic attack on the horizon I wonder if I'm the reason. Did I do this to you? Did I tell you to be careful too many times? Did I make you think the world is a place to be feared? Every day I hope and pray that I'm doing the right things for you. And I have no doubt that sometimes I don't. Sometimes I just get it wrong. Sometimes I am not as patient as you need me to be. Sometimes I forget to fix your favorite book that your sister broke when she used it as a frisbee. Sometimes I tell you the incredibly unlikely worst case scenario to get you to take my warning seriously. 

But son, even though sometimes accidents do happen in life, I never want you to be afraid to live it! I want you to jump in puddles and get so muddy you look like swamp thing. I want you to run as fast as your little legs can carry you. I want you to be excited about the snow cones we will enjoy when you see flakes coming down outside, instead of instantly worry about Daddy making it home from work with he snowy roads. I want to take away your worries and calm your troubled heart. I want you to take another page out of your Mama's book. A better page. And see the world as a place full of wonder and adventure. I want life to fill you with excitement. 

Because son, I know that anxiety you feel. I know it because you do get it from me. And it started just weeks before you were born. I was always the fearless one. Adventurous and daring. But you came along and I changed. I became your Mama. And for me, that came with crippling anxiety. It came with endless nights sitting by your bed with tear stained cheeks as I worried over you and all the ways I was helpless to protect you. It came with more stress than I knew one person could endure. And it came with more love than I had ever known.

It was years before I realized life didn't have to go on like this and learned how to handle my anxieties so my life could be full again. So son, when I try to help you reason through your fears and focus on the good it's because I know the fear you have inside. I know the feeling of a panic attack overwhelming your body and clouding your mind. I know how scary it can be. But it gets better. Look into my eyes, take a big deep breath and I promise, we can get through this together.

 Because life has so much to offer beyond the fear. Most people are good and kind. Most places are exciting with incredible secrets waiting to be unveiled. Most days can be good if you do your best to make it so. And most adventures start out a little scary and end up being wonderfully unforgettable. 

Love, 

Your adventurous Mama