Christmas in New York City
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In this season of life, the hardest thing about making any sort of plan is leaving. Whether it’s a date night with your spouse, a happy hour down the street with the girls, or a quick flight out of town, for me, the leaving part never gets easier. As a mother of three, it’s the most beautiful feeling in the world to know just how needed you are at home. To ensure the love is overwhelming, the routines are seamless, and every single need is met. And let’s be honest — no one does it better than mama. For the last three years, that’s what my days have been filled with. Some days I lay down with the biggest sense of accomplishment and others, I lay down with tears in my eyes, feeling like a wet washcloth that was rung out over and over, all day long. One thing I always, always make time for are the little things that bring ME joy. Lighting the candles in every room, opening the windows throughout the house, picking up toys at the end of the day — making this home that I pour my heart into each day feel like a reflection of myself. Quick glimpses of Meg instead of Mama. Last week, that glimpse looked like a change of scenery to my favorite city — New York at Christmas time. Something I’ve dreamed about since I was a little girl and waited nearly 35 years to do. As always, the leaving was hard and although in a different mirror, the reflection of myself was the same. Strong, capable, full of life, and heart bursting with JOY. Three years of motherhood, and in turn, three days to bring that same mother back to life. Within those years, there have been people in my life who have simply given me the gift of permission and it’s so healing. Permission to put yourself first every now and then, permission to say out loud how hard your day was. Permission to rest, permission to wholeheartedly feel the way you’re feeling and it be okay. And most recently — permission to take the trip. Pour into yourself and prioritize what makes you YOU. So if you’re like me, and you’re in a season of so much give in whatever capacity that looks like, this is your reminder — hell, this is your permission, to take a little time for yourself.
Xx,
Meg