Category Archives: All Things Work Together

Everything happens for a reason.

Creating a Sense of Normalcy When Everything Feels Bonkers

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Is it just me, or does it feel like the world as we know it changes every single day because of this COVID-19 chaos?  Within the span of 24 hours, activities that just yesterday had been deemed ok might be banned, or businesses that were allowed to remain open may be forced to close.  And while I totally get the precautions, it sort of feels like there’s some all-powerful lifeguard with a big hat and zinc-covered nose who keeps wading into the ocean where the rest of us are trying to enjoy a little sun on our floaties to blow his whistle and scream on the bullhorn, “Nope!  No, that’s too far! Bring it back to shore!” 

In the meantime, moms everywhere are trying to figure out how to harmonize working from makeshift desks on kitchen or dining room tables with educating their kids, feeding their families creative renditions of tuna fish and keeping their houses from turning into total pigsties.  And we’re all doing a lot more dishes and laundry than anyone has ever wanted to do in the history of the world, ever.   

(It’s not just me, right?  Right?)

As a wife, a mom of two kiddos who are 17 months apart and will just as easily hug and snuggle together as they will plot ways to kill each other, the owner of an online media company and a part-time lawyer, I am in desperate need for some normalcy.  In the midst of all this craziness, it’s very tempting to give up. I mean, really, would it be so bad to walk around the house all day in jammies with a perpetually full glass of Chardonnay and just tell everyone else to “figure it out?” (OK, fine. Yes.  It probably would be bad).   

Believe me, girlfriend, I have had to dig in to find a way to keep my world on its axis, but I’d venture to say that what’s working for me will work for you, too.  

Here are five tried and true tips for creating a sense of normalcy in a world of chaos: 

1) Make your bed. I know you’re not even leaving the house and you’re just going to get right back into it in a few hours, but there is brain science that connects making your bed to having a great day.  (Don’t ask me for supporting sources! Just believe it!) And it literally takes 45 seconds. Even if it’s not something you would “normally” do, try it! If nothing else, seeing your pillows and blankets all perfectly coiffed will put a smile on your face. 

2) Create a routine. Humans crave routines.  Knowing what to expect creates a sense of order and purpose, even when it feels like the rest of the world has lost their sh*t.  To be productive and effective, you cannot be in weekend mode every single day. Set an alarm. Go to bed on time. Eat proper meals. Keep using your Weekly Designer (or whatever planner you’ve been using) and plan out your week.  Even if you don’t have all that much to do, plan for and calendar all those things you always said you would do “when” you have time. Surely there’s a junk drawer or linen closet that could use your attention?  You might (read: definitely will) have to get creative and give yourself a ton of grace, but I promise you, having a routine will keep you sane.

3) Practice self care, hard.  Your new routine most definitely must include time for self care.  And when I say time, I mean legit time. I give myself an hour and a half every day.  Getting your mind right each day is the only way you’re gonna make it through this quarantine without going straight-up nuts.  

I do my self-care routine in the morning, before anyone else in my house is awake.  I get peace and quiet and wide open mental space to soak up some power and love before I start my day.  That quiet time will look different for everyone, but whatever it looks like, give it to yourself. Meditate. Journal.  Pray. Exercise. Be unapologetic about wanting to take care of yourself.  

Living as your highest and best self means not trading away your beauty and strength just because you’re stuck in quarantine.  It’s ok to still want to feel powerful. Your kiddos are watching everything you do. Show them during this tumultuous and uncertain time that the greatest thing they can do is love themselves by demonstrating that you love yourself.

4) Get dressed.  Everyone (including you) will take you more seriously if you aren’t wearing pajamas all day.  Now, I’m not saying buttons and zippers are mandatory (although props to you if you’re still rocking stuff that’s “hand wash/line dry”), but wear something you wouldn’t be embarrassed to be caught in while FaceTiming your mother-in-law or your boss.  

Getting dressed is the lead domino that will knock down other power-inducing behavior, like brushing your teeth, washing your face and holding your head up just a bit higher.  Don’t believe me? Step out of those sweatpants and try it for yourself, girlfriend.

5) Upgrade your five.  Today, with fear and limitation spreading faster than the actual coronavirus, it is more important than ever to remember that you are the average of the five people you hang around the most.  Be very intentional about who you listen to right now. The energy you allow into your space will make or break you.  

Choose people who are contributing to the brightness and expansiveness of life. The podcasts you listen to and news shows you watch matter very much right now.  It matters who you allow to vent to you on the phone. Adjust who you’re following on Facebook. Limit the news alerts you receive.  And if you need to have a heart-to-heart with your spouse about supporting you in creating healthy energy in your home, do it.

Yes, COVID-19 is very serious. A lot of people are going to lose their livelihoods and their lives, I know. I also know this: attention is everything. God is good, and can work all things together for our good. Let’s surround ourselves with like-minded people and put our attention on the ideal outcome.

And anyway, nothing good will ever come from making up a horror story in your head. Might as well just skip that whole exercise and focus on what you can control: who you listen to and what you believe.

So create your new normal and ride it until this wave dies out.  Because it will die out. You got this. Stay strong, girlfriend. This too, shall pass.  

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The Working Mama’s Guide to Getting Stuff Done with Kids at Home

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Recently I shared my top 10 tips for entertaining your kids from home without losing your mind.  If you missed this wildly popular post, be sure to check it out! 

Now, entertaining your kids from home is all fine and dandy if you can participate in the entertainment.  But what are you supposed to do if you have to actually work while your kids are home with you? This one is tricky, and has definitely frustrated me more than once in the last few days.  

But, as many working mamas have been forced to do of late, I’ve quickly picked up a few tricks.  Here are seven ways to work from home with your kiddos: 

1) Wake Up Earlier.

In some ways, as we’re settling into this new normal, being at home can sort of feel like a vacation.  There doesn’t seem to be any reason to go to bed “on time” because, well, you don’t have to be anywhere the next day.  Even I, who normally wakes up at 4:15 am, was at first rolling out of bed whenever I happened to wake up naturally or was rudely awakened by one of my kids.  But I quickly remembered that those wee hours of the morning are the quietest and most productive of my day. I meditate, pray and then get to work on anything that requires absolute focus and peace.  

So, as irksome as it may seem, get back to setting an alarm.  No matter which industry we’re in, most of us have some job tasks (like de-cluttering your email inbox or doing paperwork) that can be completed during non-business hours.  You’ll be shocked at how much you can get done when you’re not hearing, “Mom? Mom? Mom!” every five seconds.  

2) Create a Schedule.

Humans, especially kids, crave routine.  Routine fosters stability and a way to manage expectations.  Get dressed in the morning and make sure your kids do the same.  Everyone (including you) will take you more seriously if you’re not wearing pajamas all day.

If you’re homeschooling right now, set up a schedule for your kids.  Using my Weekly Designer, mine looks something like this:

Depending on your kids’ ages, they’re probably required to read on their own for 20 minutes at a time.  My second grader is also required to complete math and language arts lessons online through district programs called iReady and Success Maker.  I use those quick bursts of quiet to check emails and respond to anything urgent.  

(Tip: If you need help designing your days, check out the YIML Time Optimizing System. Yeah, I got your back, girlfriend).

3) Tune Into an Online Yoga or Fitness Class for Kids.

If your kids are too young to read on their own, try getting their attention with an at-home phys ed class.  Cosmic Kids Yoga and Move to Learn have great classes for various age groups on YouTube. The yoga classes are longer than the fitness ones, so keep that in mind when you’re selecting one.  For younger kiddos, the yoga classes may be your best bet. They have themes ranging from Old McDonald to Frozen to Trolls. If you play your cards right, you should be able to get 15 to 25 minutes out of this trick.

4) Give Them Free Play, Art Edition.

This one is risky because of the high potential that paint, play doh or slime will permanently end up where it does not belong.  I’ve found, however, that covering my countertop in copious amounts of plastic wrap significantly mitigates that risk. If you can give them something structured, like a figurine or a rock to paint, their concentration will likely last longer than it would if you just left them unattended to slap paint, markers or crayons onto paper.  I can usually buy myself 20 to 30 uninterrupted minutes with this trick.  

Warning: Do NOT leave them alone with glitter.  Don’t do it. Glitter is like the herpes of the craft world.  You cannot get rid of it. You will find it lurking in remote corners of your home for years to come.   

5) Make the Most of Nap Time.

If your kids still nap, this time might be the only time you can squeeze in some work—maybe even a conference call.  If you can couple this time with waking up earlier, you should be able to make a meaningful dent in your workload.

6) Allow Them to Watch a Movie.

Sometimes mama’s gotta rely on Disney.  Thankfully, there are a ton of great options on the Disney Plus app.  Choose something you and your kiddos all find acceptable and give them some popcorn.  If you can, set up your work station close enough so you can intervene if they start trying to kill each other.  Depending on how old your kids are and how entertaining the movie is, this option should give you at least 45 minutes.

7) Let Them Get on a Device.

It’s not ideal, but when you’ve gotta get something done, it’s your best bet.  There are some great educational apps that kids actually enjoy (like PBS Kids, which is always free, and ABC Mouse, which is currently offering free home access with code SCHOOL1686).  There are also some awesome educational websites your kids are sure to love, like Seussville or Fun Brain. Or you could let them watch National Geographic Kids or Brain Pop, Jr. on YouTube, or FaceTime with a cousin or a friend.  Whatever you decide, just know it’s ok. On some days, in some moments, it’s just about survival. An hour on the iPad when you need to be on call or focus on getting something submitted is truly not the worst thing in the world.  

And the MOST important thing for you to remember right now?   

You.

Keep taking care of yourself.  Exercise. Eat well. Rest. Give yourself a ton of grace.  Most employers are, out of necessity, relaxing expectations and requirements.  Everyone knows that schools are closed. No mom can be sitting in front of her computer for hours at a stretch while her kids are awake.  

Remember that you are already amazing and you’re doing the best you can.  Don’t be hard on yourself in this climate. You’re an awesome mom. You don’t have to be perfect, girlfriend.  

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How to Entertain Your Kids from Home (Without Losing Your Mind)

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Photo by Lina Kivaka from Pexels

I consider myself to be an awesome mom.  I fully embrace my duty to protect my kids, and harmonize that duty with my obligation to humanity to ensure that they don’t grow up to be jerks.

In alignment with my duty to protect them, I make sure my kiddos (much to their chagrin) don’t eat junk.  I insist they wear rash guards in the hot, South Florida sun.  I cover them in sunscreen to the point that they look like snowmen (not kidding).  When one of them gets angry and starts to throw a tantrum, I remind them that it’s ok to fully experience their feelings (as long as they don’t hurt themselves, others, or my painstakingly-decorated living room).  Heartache and disappointment? I’m on it. Boo-boos? I got your back. Second-grade math homework and kindergarten reading? I’m your girl.

But when it comes to entertaining my kids from home, I’m a deer in headlights.  

At least, I was, until very recently.  

With the outbreak of COVID-19 and public gatherings and schools closing in my county, I, like most moms in the U.S., have been forced to figure out what the heck to do with my kids for the next two weeks.  Now, I’m no elementary educator, so if you’re looking for resources on how to teach your kids from home, I’m happy to recommend The Relaxed Homeschool (where you can find free and very affordable paid lesson plans) and Homeschool Pop on YouTube.  

To my surprise, being Director of Fun from Home for my kids has been a huge blessing.  It’s quickly taught me how to connect with them and share experiences with them that we otherwise might not have had if we weren’t trying to make the most of it without playgrounds, arcades, restaurants and trampoline entertainment centers.  And the best part? I haven’t lost my mind yet!

Give it a go.  Here are my top 10 tips for entertaining your kids from home:

1) Get Outside.

There is something so cleansing about fresh air.  As busy people who live in paradise, my husband and I so often take it for granted.  But what an amazing resource it is! Go for a bike ride. Shoot some hoops or hit some tennis balls.  Play catch in your yard. Take a run. Build a snowman (not that I’d know anything about that).  Connecting with Mother Nature is so good for your soul. Plus, a little Vitamin D never hurt anyone. And bonus: running around outside will likely tire your kids out.  Score!

2) Bake Something Yummy.

“No!  I don’t want to make delicious chocolate-chip cookies!” said no kid ever.  I don’t know about your kids, but mine love to bake.  They especially love it if they get to crack an egg. (Anyone else’s kids feel the same?) Grab your favorite recipe and whip up something delish!  Not only will you get to teach your kids about measuring and how to follow a recipe (both great life skills), but you’ll also get to eat brownies (or cake or cookies or muffins) when all is said and done.  #winning

3) Get Your Game On!

Whatever happened to good old fashioned game night?  There’s a reason games like Monopoly, Sorry!, Life, Mouse Trap, Twister, Uno and Operation are still on the market.  It’s because they’re still awesome! Let your inner kiddo loose and bust out one of your old favorites. My kids fall over laughing hysterically when I play Twister with them.  Add some popcorn to the mix and you’ll be golden.

4) Let Them Help You with Something.

Kids love to feel useful.  They especially love it when they feel like they’re being trusted to do something only grown-ups do.  Let your kiddos help you wash your car, prepare a meal or even fold and put away laundry. I’m always surprised by the chores and projects my kids want to help me with.  Two birds with one stone? Yes, please.

5) Get Crafty!

You don’t have to be artsy to pull this one off.  Dust off that pencil box full of crayons and whip out the glue, scissors and construction paper.  Bonus if you have stickers, pom poms or pipe cleaners. And if you’re feeling really sassy, add some glitter to the mix.  Pick a theme and get to creating. Have beads and string? Make jewelry. Go nuts! You might find that you enjoy this one more than your kids! 

6) Take a Museum or Park Tour—Virtually.

Some super famous museums offer virtual tours.  Of the more renowned sites on this list are the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History, The Louvre and the Guggenheim Museum. You can even take a virtual tour of Yellowstone National Park.  Who knew?

7) Read Together.

If your kiddos can read on their own, pick some quiet time to sit on the couch together and read your own books.  (I recommend reading an actual book versus one on a device if you can). If your kids are too young to read by themselves, read to them.  Reading with your kids is so important. Not only is it great bonding time, but it’s vital for their education. I remind my kids all the time that literally everything they want to do in life (including playing Minecraft) requires them to read.  Might as well get good at it!

8) Channel Your Inner Green Goddess.

Teach your kids about nature by doing some work in your own yard.  Pull weeds or water the plants. You could even do an experiment and plant seeds from fruit you have in your own kitchen.  Boom! Science lesson.

9) Make Stuff Out of Paper.

I don’t know why, but kids love this stuff.  Paper airplanes, paper boats (that actually float in water) and fortune tellers are top in my house.  Don’t know how to make any of these things? No problem. There is no shortage of tutorials on YouTube just waiting to instruct you.  

10) Teach Them the Games You Played as a Kid.

Mansion Apartment Shack House (M.A.S.H.).  Rock, paper, scissors. Hopscotch. Miss Mary Mack. Remember those?  They were endlessly entertaining for us when we were little and they still are today.  Plus they’re totally free! A quick Google search will refresh your recollection if you’ve forgotten any of the lyrics or rules.  And enjoy the trip down memory lane! It’s sure to make you smile.

What fun tricks do you use to entertain your kids from home? Share in the comments below!

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A Phoenix’s Spirit Animal Is the Butterfly: Part 3

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Although we had been to Santiago countless times before (for my aunt’s wedding, family reunions and numerous vacations), this time everything seemed strange and unfamiliar.  Because we were living in the opposite hemisphere, February meant the end of summer. The school year began in March, which felt absurd, like an alternate universe.   

In what was undoubtedly an effort at creating normalcy, my father insisted we go shopping for school supplies as a family.  It was a sweltering day and the shop we were in didn’t have air conditioning. Everything about the outing annoyed me, including the name of the shop, Mon Amie.  What a stupid name for a store that sells pencils, I thought scornfully.  And p.s., you’re not my friend. 

I was angry and I wanted to fight with someone.  I chose my father.  

“I hate you,” I spat.  I willed my heart to turn to stone as I watched the saline pool in his eyes, making the blue of his irises a sad, watery gray. 

He swallowed hard and looked at me, miserable and defeated.  “I know you do.” 

I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away, pretending that I couldn’t stand to look at him.  The truth was that it broke my heart to see the hurt in his eyes. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt worse than I did that day I made my father cry.  

I think the hardest adjustment was attending Dunalastair, the private school my father had picked out for me and Monica.  He had some ridiculous idea that by putting us into a Chilean school, we might learn the language quicker and thereby blend into the culture more easily.  He called it immersion; I called it cruel and unusual punishment.

My Dunalastair uniform. Meh.

Monica and I lasted six months at Dunalastair.  It was, in a word, grueling. Even their grading system was different.  An “A” was a “7;” an “F” a “1.” And of course, it couldn’t be that simple.  Teachers were apt to give you a “6.7” or a “4.5.” It meant nothing to me.  

So, after spending my days at “school” doing nothing but writing letters home, wallowing in my misery and having an emotional breakdown of sorts, my father and I ultimately worked out a compromise.  He abandoned his original idea of immersing Monica and me in the culture and transferred us to an international school. All of the teachers there were either American or Canadian and—hallelujah!—speaking any language on campus other than English was forbidden.  

I swear these letters were shiny and brass
when I was there.

I remember climbing the hill to the massive school’s entrance in our newly-acquired Toyota 4Runner the day we decided to enroll.  Nido de Aguilas, I read.  The shiny brass letters leapt out at me from the concrete wall bordering the front gate.  An American flag danced in the breeze alongside a Chilean one in the courtyard. I realized in that moment that both are red, white and blue.  I smiled as a guard tipped his hat at us and my family and I drove in.  

“Nido de aguilas” means “eagles’ nest.”  In this “nest,” Monica and I met other teenagers who had already experienced and conquered the disorientation we were currently suffering through.  It was warm and welcoming, like a hot shower after standing in the rain.

As the months passed and my time in Santiago grew less and less painful, I let myself succumb to its offerings.  Everything became easier. School, which at Dunalstair had been a waste of eight hours each day, became a priority again.  I became grateful for things I had naturally taken for granted in Florida, like being able to comprehend my teachers’ sentences.  Even having homework assignments put a smile on my face. I had regained a sense of purpose.  

“I understand this!” I exclaimed one day, poring over a textbook.  It made me giddy. I felt accomplished, and when I would bring home test scores of “90%” or “94%,” it meant something.  I was proud of myself again, and Daddy was the first person I wanted to share my success with.  

With my education finally under control, I decided my next goal was to take back my power and my personality, which I had left somewhere on the wretched journey from Miami to Santiago.  [Looking back, that probably should have been my first goal]. While I still felt like an outgoing person, I didn’t actually converse with anyone at school except for my sister.  I definitely need friends, I thought to myself one day as I walked alone from first period to second. 

I immediately ran into a problem, however.  I didn’t know the first thing about meeting girls.  I’d had my friends in Coral Springs nearly all my life.  They were practically built in. Luckily, my classmate, Nina, eventually took pity on me.  She and her five-gal clan were quick to befriend me.  

“Do you want to eat lunch with us?” Nina asked me one day after our English class.  Her thick South-African accent and warm brown eyes helped me to trust her immediately.  After all, eating lunch alone in high school can be brutal.  

I had smiled at her, grateful for the invitation.  “Sure.”  

That night at dinner Mommy and Daddy asked us the usual question of how our days had gone.  

“I met a bunch of girls,” I piped up. 

Daddy’s eyes lit up.  “That’s great, Niks! I’m so glad.”  He grinned, and I felt a sense of peace knowing he was happy for me.  

As it turned out, however, Nina and Company were not exactly my crowd.  They were nice enough, but they laughed about things I found more stupid than funny.  I realized quickly that I didn’t fit in with them. Even the way we dressed was noticeably different.  Being “fresh” out of the United States meant I knew what was still “in” and what wasn’t, and for the love of God, my belt always matched my shoes.  

I was also older than they were, because leaving my high school back home in the middle of the semester and the mess with Dunalastair had set me back a grade.  I didn’t think our age difference would matter, but it eventually began to grate on my nerves. And while I was grateful to them for taking me in and trying to show me a good time, I was often un-amused or bored when I was with them. I found myself wishing they at least had some cute guy friends.  

I was fervently taking notes one day during Environmental Systems when my lab partner leaned over and asked, quite disdainfully, “Why do you hang out with those girls?  You don’t fit in with them.” 

I looked at my Swedish classmate and shrugged.  “They’re nice,” I said lamely. I narrowed my eyes at him.  “Why, Pontus? Who do you think I should be hanging out with?”  

He gave me a sly, cocky smile, one I would soon become affectionately familiar with.  “Me and my crew.”  

And so began the introductions.  I politely—well, as politely as I could, anyway—stopped hanging out with Nina and Company and met Pontus’ “crew.”  When I began spending more time with them, Monica, who was a freshman, could hardly believe it. 

“In Nido,” my sister explained to me, “there is the ‘cool’ group, and the ‘super cool’ group.”  She looked admirably at me. “Nicole, you and your friends are in the ‘super cool’ group.” I could only laugh.  Looking back, I suppose we were. 

There were the sisters, Georgina and Estefa, two Mexican beauties I eventually became very close with.  We had a Californian, a New Yorker, a Japanese, a Colombian, two Chileans, and of course, Pontus from Sweden and his best friend, Mark from Toronto.  And then there was Katie from Ontario, who became my new best friend.  

A blurry selfie of me and Katie before selfies were a thing.

She had been absent from school for the first four weeks with a bad case of mono, which is why I hadn’t met her before.  She was a year younger than I was and in Nina’s class, but we had a sincere, authentic connection from the very start.  

My parents loved her.  She soon became a familiar face around our house, and now I know part of the reason my parents adored her so much was because of the positive change she stirred in me.  I understand now that Daddy never wanted to hurt me, and seeing me laughing with Katie and going out again must have been a huge relief. We were even able to share clothes, which he knew was very important to me.

With Katie and Pontus at one of Genevieve’s parties.

One of the Chileans in our crew, Genevieve, was infamous for throwing big parties every year.  Her yard was ginormous and she successfully filled it with kids from Nido every time. My first ever experience at one of her extravaganzas had been with Nina and Company when I knew hardly anyone.  By the time Genevieve’s next party rolled around, I was helping her pass out flyers and was there two hours early with Katie and the rest of the girls, helping her set up. When the last guests had gone for the night, I stayed at her house with Katie and everyone else in our crew and slept over.  It wasn’t long before I felt completely comfortable with the crew, enough to call them mine, and I owed it to Katie.  I had created a new normal. I was, dare I say it, happy. Comfortable, even. 

Me and Katie before Nido prom

I slowly loosened my white-knuckled grip on my old life and began to relax into my new one.  Although I still kept in very close contact with my friends in Florida, and no one could ever take Marin’s place—not even Katie — I took that old life off its pedestal. Going back to Florida became something that put a smile on my face without a pang of longing in my throat. 

Eventually, as gritty, resilient humans tend to do, I healed my heart and ultimately, I grew to love Chile. 

Growth is impossible without change.  Turning our lives upside down and starting over in Chile taught me that.  Looking back, I think it was hard for all of us, even Daddy, but I can only say with certainty how deeply it changed me.  I remember my time in Chile as a battle and a renewal—at times between my father and I; at others, between my old self and the one who emerged. 

After spending a year and a half in a place I had never truly known but that had always been part of my heritage, I realize the impact of my experience.  I am no longer unworldly, nor do I view life from within a bubble in which the most important thing is whether my shoes match my belt. I have a new appreciation for people of other cultures and countries.  I speak a second language, a tie that binds my father and I in a way we never were before.  

These things are precious to me.  My experiences in Chile were had at the expense of those I could have had with my childhood friends, yes, but I would never trade them. The lessons I learned in that year and a half made me who I am.

So that’s my origin story. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed publishing it. It was an absolute treat for me to relive these moments, even the ones that still make me cry. I guess I was gritty before I knew what grit was.

I thought it would be fun to put some faces with all of those names. These photos are from our most recent trip to Chile. It was also the first time my kids had ever been. Coming full circle in that way was so beautiful, at times, it took my breath away.

  • Making the 8-hour trek from Miami to Santiago.
  • Monica and me in Zapallar
  • Mommy and Daddy
    atop a hill
    overlooking Santiago.
  • Emma and her Poppa
    enjoying a Chilean meal.
  • Daddy
  • Ryan enjoying all
    Chile has to offer
    with his cousin.
  • The Odens, together in Chile for the first time.
  • Enjoying a little wine time
    at Vina Santa Rita.
  • Me and Katie, reunited for only the second time since leaving Chile.
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A Phoenix’s Spirit Animal Is the Butterfly: Part 2

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I realized with jolting reality that the world was not, in fact, revolving around me and my teenage delusions when Jeremy dropped me off at my house one day after school.  There it was, standing malevolently from where it had been rooted into the green of my lawn, its white, wooden arm bearing the venomous news. 

I gasped as if I’d been slapped brutally across the face.  

“What?” Jeremy asked.  “Nikki, what’s wrong?”

I lifted a weak finger and pointed at the For-Sale sign.  So it was real this time.  

I looked miserably at him.  “I have to go,” I said, shakily climbing out of his car.

“Alright,” he agreed.  The concern was thick in his voice as he asked me to call him later.  

I nodded and shut the door.  As he pulled out of the driveway I walked slowly up the walkway toward my house, glaring at the sign with pure hatred, as if it alone were responsible for what was going to happen to me.  

Even then I did not entirely believe that my father was going to go through with such a severe uprooting.  I refused to panic when the movers came one Monday morning and began to put our lives into boxes, labeling each with a general description of its contents.  “Nicole’s Room Misc.,” read one box. I actually laughed months later in Santiago when I opened that box, which contained my garbage can with the garbage still in it.  

When it finally got to the point that our home had become simply a house, I began to worry, but only slightly. “Something is going to happen,” I insisted stubbornly, desperate to convince myself if no one else.  “God won’t let Daddy move us to Chile. Something is going to keep us here.” 

The last time I ever visited Marin at lunch
(we ate at different times).

After deciding finally that God was taking too long to intervene, I committed to making something happen on my own.  I worked out living arrangements with Marin’s mother. I swore up and down that I would get a job to support myself. Each day, as if a sales executive pitching to a client, I presented a different proposal to my father. 

“Just let me finish eleventh grade,” I pleaded.  “I’ll move down there and meet you when the summer comes.  Just please let me finish my junior year.”  

But he had shaken his head sternly, his own stubbornness matching mine.  “No. We are a family. We go as a family. End of discussion.” 

The frustration began to pour from my eyes in wet droplets.  If sobs were tangible objects I would have hurled mine at his face.

I began to do anything I possibly could to make him realize he was ruining my life.  I pushed further away from him in a childish attempt to make him feel guilty. One of his golden rules was to eat breakfast at the start of each day.  As if to punish him, I began refusing the meal. I failed my Chemistry class on purpose, praying with each act of destruction that he would begin to see the severity of the move’s effect on me. 

As the date of my impending doom neared, my friends began to take action.  Jeremy threw the For-Sale sign into the canal behind our house. Brianne, a former Wild Cat, actually yelled at my father in a tearful fit and begged him to let me stay. 

“She’s going to be fine,” my father had replied calmly.  

“But I need her here,” Brianne had sobbed.  She told me later that he had just shrugged.  Now I wonder, what did she expect him to say? 

“Something is going to happen,” I promised. 

But nothing did.  On Sunday, February 23, 1997, we left just as planned, without any obligations, ties or unfinished business.  Even the For-Sale sign had been fished begrudgingly out of the canal and re-positioned in the yard.  

My father had rented a limousine to take us to Miami International Airport.  To my dismay, Marin wasn’t able to see us off at the airport. As I was hugging her good-bye in my driveway, he placed his hand on my shoulder.  “It’s time to go.”  

“Don’t touch me,” I growled.  I vowed then that I would never speak to him again. 

My bereavement was real as I stepped through those metal detectors at the airport.  I’ve lost my life, I thought.  This was the final separation; only ticketed passengers were permitted beyond that point, and all I had to look forward to now was the path to Chile that lay before me.  I will never forget turning back one last time and seeing my closest friends standing in one, supportive huddle, the boys solemn and the girls crying openly. It was almost as if they were leaning one on another in a delicate pattern, and if a single person stepped away they would all come crashing to the floor.  

I blew them a kiss and my hand shook violently as the tears dripped freely down my face and off my chin.  My father had decided to send us to Santiago ahead of him. Today I thank God it had just been me, Monica and Mommy on the flight.  I don’t know what I would have said to him had he been there.  

Mommy kept yelling at me to please hurry, that our flight was being called and we weren’t even at the gate yet, but I ignored her.  Would it be such a bad thing if we missed our flight? I began walking slower and prayed with all I had within me for God to send American Airlines flight 911 off without us.  

Of course, that didn’t happen.  Our departure time came and went, taking my mother, my sister and me to my father’s native country.  For eight hours we flew, stretching from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific, from the Northern Hemisphere to the Southern.  I kicked and screamed the whole way there.

Read how this origin story ends in A Phoenix’s Spirit Animal Is the Butterfly: Part 3.

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A Phoenix’s Spirit Animal Is the Butterfly

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The actual, typed story. That paper is from 1999!

Every now and then, if you’re lucky enough, you’ll have a crazy, painful, amazing life experience. 

I had one of those when I was 16 and my father decided emphatically to seize his life journey.  He declared that he didn’t want to live in South Florida anymore and, with my mother by his side, yanked my sister and I out of our worlds and moved us to his native Santiago, Chile.  Starting over was gut wrenching and difficult, but God, as He often does, works in mysterious ways.

Moving to Santiago was the catalyst for the first of my many re-births.  It shaped me in a fundamental, immutable way. I guess you could say that it did for me what the tiny hole in a cocoon does for a new butterfly, the struggle designed intentionally to equip and strengthen the creature that eventually emerges.

I recently stumbled upon a short story I wrote about this very topic when I was just 19 years old and majoring in Creative Writing at Florida State.  It’s raw and vulnerable and real, and publishing it here scares the crap out of me. So of course, I knew I had to do it.  

It is la-la-la-la-long, so I broke it into three parts.  I hope you enjoy it.  

This, my friends, is the story of how this phoenix was born. 

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When Life Throws You a Storm: The Moana Principle

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Photo by JOHN TOWNER on Unsplash

Do you remember that part in Moana when she’s out on the ocean, lost and alone, searching for Maui?  (Well, even if you don’t, or you have no idea who I’m talking about because you aren’t forced by young humans to repeatedly watch Disney movies, stay with me.  This is good stuff).  

Maui, of course, is a demi-god no one has seen in like, hundreds of years.  Moana has absolutely no idea how she’s going to complete such a monumental task, having essentially set sail with only a seashell necklace and an idiot chicken to guide her.  And so, in a moment of desperate faith, she calls on the ocean for help.  

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The ensuing result is a tumultuous storm that tosses her and her tiny raft from wave to giant wave while she hangs on for her life in terror.  The next morning, she finds herself shipwrecked on an island, frazzled and disoriented and seemingly no closer to finding Maui. Furious, she curses the ocean for toying with her, adding at the end of her assault, “Fish pee in you!  All day!”

But in the next moment, who does she discover just happens to be stranded on that island too? 

Maui.  

The ocean delivered after all.  

Wow.  Did anyone else feel that two-by-four smack upside the head?  The metaphor struck me immediately and left me covered in goosebumps, blinking back tears.  It’s a powerful illustration of real life, dontcha think? 

Sometimes the fastest way to get from where you are to where you need to be is through a total sh*tstorm.  

A profound truth, if I do say so myself.  An epiphany, even. Haven’t you ever been through an awful situation, only to realize months or years later that it was “a blessing in disguise?”  (That’s obviously a rhetorical question because, duh, of course you have).  

Reflecting on my own life, I can see clearly—years and years later—that my divorce from my first husband was one of those blessed storms, intended to take me from a toxic relationship into an ideal one.  One in which fairytale romance is real.  One in which passion does not wane.  One in which God is ever-present. One that produced two children who are living, breathing manifestations of our intense love for one another.  

And more recently, it has also become clear that I asked for the storm, just like Moana did.  I didn’t realize it at the time, of course (who ever does?).  Nonetheless, it was indeed my own, unconscious creation. I like to think of it as my true self reaching out her hand and saying, Come on, girlfriend.  I know a shortcut. Just don’t let go of my hand because this is gonna get ugly.  

So don’t.  Don’t let go of her hand.  Settle in and relax into the storm you’ve created by staying present with every single wave.  Don’t resist it, don’t curse it. Don’t shut your eyes and wish it wasn’t happening. Obviously, you need to experience it.  After all, it’s taking you exactly where you want to go.  

With the benefit of hindsight and some self-discovery training, I’m able to see that it was silly to wish my ex-husband and I had never met, as I once used to.  There was a time when I was desperate to erase us, wishing I could have avoided the pain and humiliation of making what seemed like such a grave mistake.  

But now I know all that wishing was a disservice to my highest and best self.   The pain and humiliation I experienced had immense value. I learned who I am and what I can give myself.  I learned what I can take from life. 

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And from that place, I appreciate the good I took from the relationship.  My ex-husband encouraged me to put myself through law school. The raw and simple truth is that I would never have gone if it weren’t for him. At 23 years old, I believed my parents would pay for my tuition, and when they told me they couldn’t, I thought that was simply the end of that.  But not him. He helped me see I could do it myself, and that decision changed the trajectory of my entire life.  

I’m grateful for the storms in my life now.  They have each made me that much more powerful.  (Oh, and speaking of power, did you ever notice how every superhero there ever was had to overcome some kind of adversity on their way to becoming great?  Dead parents, lost love, kidnapped children, terrorism, war—the list of tragedies is endless. You never read about a superhero who had a cushy life filled with love and devoid of problems and then, poof!  They became a superhero! Nope, and you never will. They must endure the storm first. But alas, I digress).  

Listen, I’m not saying your life should be some constant, painful grind.  You should strive to create freedom, flow and joy, always. But when you hit your stuff along the way, remember The Moana Principle.  

And while you’re intentionally riding out the storm, remember that you got this, girlfriend.  

Betcha never knew a Disney movie could be so deep, huh?  

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Living The Phoenix Diaries

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I realized recently that I love people.  I especially love my fellow mom.  You’ve seen her.  She’s beautifully messy and has a giant inside of her that she doesn’t know how to unleash.  She has gifts but hasn’t figured out how to harness them.  She’s powerful but not empowered.  And she’s got serious heart.  A girl boss in the making.  These women are dear to me because I consider myself to be one, if only just a few life, mindset and self-discovery experiences further along on the path.  I know what it’s like to fall on your face and start over, and what it’s like to succeed and then reinvent yourself anyway.  I like to think of myself as a phoenix.  I rise up.

I’m not one who stays inside her comfort zone, and I’ll be unapologetic about encouraging you to step outside of yours.  True statement:  growth and comfort are mutually exclusive.  That’s why, despite having literally no idea what I’m doing, I started this blog. I wanted to create a place dedicated to grit, determination and resilience.  So I did, and Living the Phoenix Diaries was born.  Through this blog, I loudly celebrate unwavering faith.  I put attention on the absolute truth that we can create what we want to experience in life, love and work.

I’ve never been a blogger before.  But I guess I wasn’t a lawyer until I was, and I wasn’t a mom until I was.  No one is anything until they are, right?  So, here I am:  declaring myself a blogger extraordinaire.  Now, don’t get me wrong.  I’m no technological expert.  I didn’t even know what a plug-in was until a few weeks ago (but I was unabashed about finding out from some younger, techier folk)!  But I do know a lot about living intentionally and that, no matter where you are today, you can design a life you absolutely love.  And you know what?  It’s not all that complicated.  Living your dream life can begin with an act as simple as planning tomorrow’s outfit the night before.

Life is beautiful and fleeting and I don’t want to waste any of it playing small.  I won’t lie—as I was deciding to launch this thing there was a voice in my head whispering, “Why would anyone want to read what you have to write?” Terrified on some level that the voice could be right, I thought, Maybe they won’t.  And then, remembering that I’m a phoenix, I smiled, squared my shoulders and thought, But maybe they will.  Maybe the dozens of real lives I’ve already helped change through my light, my leadership and my love give me some street cred.

One thing’s for sure.  I am fierce, passionate and powerful beyond measure.  And I am obsessed with helping others believe the same about themselves.  (OK, maybe that was like, four things).

Welcome to Living the Phoenix Diaries.  I invite you to rise up.

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