I don't know anything about Paris

Me at a sidewalk cafe in Europe

I don’t know what happened in Paris or Mali.  I never turn on the television at home and drive in silence in the car.   I know there were shooting and violence, but that’s about it.  It’s been an intentional choice to remain ignorant of the details.  My heart crumbles for the victims and their families, but fear stops me from going any further.   

It’s not because I don’t feel anything during tragedy, perhaps it’s that I feel too much. I’ve traveled to places in Europe and Africa.  I’ve eaten in sidewalk cafes and hotel lobbies.   It could have been me. 

My problem with fear is that I am unable to forget.  I still have nightmares from watching horror films at sleepovers when I was a teenager.  Nearly thirty years later, you won’t find me in a cornfield, an empty hotel, or near anyone with a hockey mask.  These days, I can’t even watch a trailer for a horror film. 

This tricky combo of fear without forgetting makes daily living even more challenging for me.  I have imagined being on a plane headed for a tower.  I have imagined feeling trapped in a college lecture hall.  I have imagined racing to the elementary school desperately praying my child was not in that classroom. 

But if I stayed in my house and did nothing, I still would not be safe from harm. For now, I will remain uninformed and active.  Not because I don’t want the terrorists to win, but because I don’t want to stop enjoying my life.  This may not be the best strategy, but it’s all I’ve got to continue to travel, learn, and put my daughter on the school bus every morning. 

None of us know what will happen next.  There is no script for life.  I don’t think there is a God who is just reading the prewritten lines, and we are all acting accordingly. 

Every day, I have to make up my own story.  And if the next chapter has tragedy and sorrow, then I will do my best to turn it one page at a time.  For now, I have to focus on the beautiful part of the unknown future, and keep writing. 

Membership in the Laundry Knob Society

About three weeks before my expected due date with my first child, I still did not have baby things ready.  No car seat installed.  No crib built.  No hospital bag packed.  Instead, I focused on what I felt was the most important endeavor for the health and well being of my baby-to-be.  I spent three hours  cleaning the built-up grime from the laundry knobs of our not-that-dirty washing machine (using 30+ Q-tips, of course!).

So a few days later when I went into early labor, I seriously panicked.  I doubted and questioned myself.  How could I be a good mom if I chose insignificant cleaning over building a crib for my child to sleep in? (Note: my darling husband and father-in-law raced home to fix this situation while the new baby and I rested in the hospital). 

I tell you this because on the surface, many people thought I had it together in those first weeks, months - even years.  But truthfully, I was full of self-doubts and guilt.  Early motherhood humbled and crushed me in ways I never expected.  Life with a newborn was not about cute nursery décor (didn’t have it) or clean laundry knobs (didn’t need it).  It was about sacrifice, fear, exhaustion, and wonder (holy crap).   I wanted my life to look like a parenting magazine ad, but it never did.

I felt massively lonely in my overwhelmed state.  What I wanted more than the time back to fix my mistakes was someone to just reach out, put their arm around my shoulders, and admit, “Yeah, me too.”  So I started 'The Laundry Knob Society' with some of my best friends when I was pregnant with my second child.  It was in this truth telling and secret sharing that I finally became a little less hard on myself (and just avoided the washing machine all together).

My friends and I continue to share all those awkward, challenging moments when life gets weird and unscripted.   And the simple act of honesty is the scariest and most rewarding part.  Whatever your challenge is - being a parent, moving to a new place, losing your job, or micro-biotic cleaning - I say, “Yeah, me too.  And welcome to the Laundry Knob Society.”