Waves

It’s been almost a year since my last blog post. It’s amazing how quickly time can go, how much of a blur it can be. This time last year, I was still knee deep in the repatriating weeds.

Recently, one of my dearest friends in the world told me that the way she describes me is the kind of person who can create a warm, loving home and a life for her family no matter where she goes. I would say that’s a pretty astute assessment- but, I will also say, this move was the most challenging of our previous moves.

When you move to a foreign country, most people sympathize with the fact that you’re a fish out of water. They can respect the challenges of learning a new language and culture. More than anything though, it’s exciting! Most people don’t get to have those experiences, and want to live vicariously through those that do.

The problem is, most people don’t understand the growing pains of trying to adjust to your home culture. There are tons of books about acclimating kids, but not a lot for adults. I wonder if it’s partly because there’s this common misconception that all expats stick together and don’t get knee deep in the culture. (I can feel my Italian girlfriends laughing because they know just how native we went during that expat experience!)

The return back was bumpier than when we moved back from Italy, probably in part to the fact that I wasn’t moving and having a baby right away. Babies are an amazing distraction to pour yourself into when you’e in a new place. I know this better than most. I’ve moved mid pregnancy during all 3 pregnancies, and had babies in different states and countries than where I started the pregnancy. Babies are an ice breaker, a door opener, and a community creator.

This time, we moved back with one kid who didn’t know this country at all, one who barely remembered it, and one who was old enough to really appreciate her wonderful life in Zurich- and no one wanted to come back. I didn’t want to come back. I felt that I’d finally found my stride in what I want to do (interiors, traveling, and interviewing exceptional people), so leaving Europe, where I’d begun to feel established, was extremely challenging. We lived in Zurich longer than I’ve ever lived anywhere.

Once we got here, I threw myself into creating a life for the girls. Once February hit, I began to feel like there was space to focus on my business and the things that were for me. What I didn’t anticipate were the waves.

At least once a month, someone would want to go “home”. Hell, sometimes that someone was me. Then we hit the summer, and realized that we’re staying put in Atlanta, and the waves became less. Zurich will always be a home, but finally, we’ve all hit a point where Atlanta is becoming home.

The long and the short of it is, 2020 is going to be a big year for Bow and Branch. The website is going to go through a big refresh, more tips and tricks on decorating your home, and more of “the good stuff”, because frankly, we need more of it. Even more exciting, I’m currently planning my first pop up shoppe.

In the meantime, since I’m recovering from our massive holiday party, and the crazed holiday season, I’ll be checking out until the new year. See you in 2020!

Treading Water

We bow, we don’t break, we branch out.  Women have this ability to see the entirety of things, the ability to find the good stuff, the ability to connect people- that’s the sisterhood showing its best self.

Eight years ago, I looked at my husband and told him that I had a feeling his career would take off in a way that would cause us to move around.  He, being the most humble person I have ever met, laughed at me and kind of brushed me off.  A year later, we were told that we’d be moving every year or so for a program that would accelerate his career.  Here we were in our mid-twenties, about to go on the ride of our life, with our beautiful one-year old baby in tow.

Fast-forward almost a decade, and we’ve got three little girls, have lived in 8 homes, 3 countries, and 5 cities.  Our kids are the most chilled out travelers you’d ever meet.  They’ve eaten food you’ve only seen on “No Reservations” or read about in “National Geographic”.  They don’t care what language you speak, or what you look like.  They care if you’re kind, fair, and are willing to play hard on the playground.

My husband and I have learned to get by in different languages and to quickly immerse ourselves in other cultures.  It’s changed the way we parent, the way we view family, and in some ways, it has helped us learn to appreciate just how valuable family time is.

You might be thinking to yourself, this woman is bonkers.  Cultures aren’t that different, Western Europe is all the same, people are people no matter how you shake them, and I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong, but also that you’re right.  People are people. True.  But, the way you’re raised, the idea of what is and is not safe, what’s moral and immoral, that’s cultural, my friends.

Who are you at your cultural core?  As an American, I’ve learned that other countries don’t lean on the cultures of their ancestors the way we do (to be fair, the vast majority of those counties are older than ours).  How has it impacted your choices, who you are, your beliefs, and what you like to do?

For me, the last four and a half weeks have consisted of my family and I trying to navigate our feelings about being back in the US.  It feels differently than it did from when we moved back from Italy.  Very differently.  We all feel like cultural melting pots, and we can’t figure out where we fit.

You know how we turn into our spouse and our friends the more we’re around them?  You don’t mean to, but you do.  That’s how living in a different culture for an extended period of time is.  You gradually start to absorb certain aspects of that culture, whether you want or mean to.  So, leaving that culture, in the same way that starting with a new set of friends, or a new spouse, is difficult.  The thing is, when you’re returning to your own culture, everyone assumes you’ll be fine, but the reality is, you’re trying to wear jeans that used to fit, but they just don’t. 

I’m in a fortunate situation where even though I left a place that my family and I really loved and felt at home in, we have moved to a place where there are so many people that we love so much.  I have such amazing friends here in Atlanta, the kind of deep friendships that some women just don’t seem to think really exist.  I’m here to tell you, sisters- your people are out there.  Just be open, be kind, and give it time.

I know that I’ll see my Zurich and Florence sistahs sooner than not, and that I’m so lucky to have my Atlanta sisters to welcome my family and I home, and help us adjust.  I know that in a year, I’ll have a different perspective, but right now, right now I’m trying to tread water to stay afloat.  I’ll swim to shore soon.  Just not yet.

Celebrating Yourself

It’s funny how you can hate a day.  Since I was five, I’ve hated my birthday.  I always secretly wanted it to turn out well, but every time I held out hope, something traumatic or disastrous would happen.  It wasn’t until I met my husband that I allowed anyone to really celebrate my birthday- and even he was stunned to see how the day always ended in calamity.

That said, I’ve always made a big fuss over the birthdays of the people I love- especially my husband and our kids.  On each of our girls’ birthdays, I’m reminded of the days they were born.  Those are the most deeply meaningful moments of my life.

Our girls get the royal treatment for their birthday week (yes, I’m a crazy mommy who puts balloons in the hallway and streamers on their doors).  So, when our eldest became old enough to understand when my birthday is, she wanted to celebrate me the way that I celebrate her and her sisters.  She wanted to understand why it’s okay to celebrate daddy, our close family friends, and our family, but not me.  It was kind of a rude awakening that I was celebrating the lives of the people I love, but I wasn’t honoring their desire to celebrate me.

We all mean something to someone.  Our actions and inactions affect the people around us.  Life is worth celebrating!  It’s worth recognizing that the world would not be what it is without you in it.  I’ve begun to look at my birthday as in a day that in the past, hurt and scarred me in a lot of ways, but without those scars and traumas, I wouldn’t be the person that I am today.  I may not have had such a keen desire to share positivity and acts of kindness, had I not experienced heartbreak.  I wouldn’t be so focused on raising builders and not breakers, if I hadn’t been broken down. 

So, here’s some homework.  Whether it’s your birthday or not, take a moment to be grateful for your life.  Celebrate that you have the ability to show love and be loved.  In a world that’s hungry for love, positivity, encouragement and most of all, hope, I think the best thing we can do is celebrate life.  Enjoy life.  Be Kind.  Build up the people around you, and recognize that a life well lived, and being your best, but forgiving yourself when you’re at your worst, is one of the best gifts you can every give yourself, and the people around you. 

I was once told that you can change someone’s life by merely looking at it.  If that is true, let’s be mindful about how we’re looking.

The Art of Saying "No"

“No.”  How many times have you been asked a question, and simply said, “no” without an explanation.  I’m going to take a risk here and say it’s been zero.  Okay, maybe less than five.

As women, we’re taught that when we don’t want to, we should be apologetic for not being able to, or for not wanting to do something.  Men, well, they get a free pass to just give a perfunct “no” to most things.  It’s silly.  If a man tells us that we’re emotional creatures, we get upset, but the reality is, we are.  We give a reason for not doing things ALL THE TIME.  Don’t even try to deny it!  I know you, sister!  It’s ALMOST as bad as the dreaded “I’m sorry.” that women throw out all the damn time in the view of being polite or politically correct.  Listen to me, if someone steps on your foot, please stop being sorry.  If you have a differing opinion, own it, and DO NOT BE SORRY.  That’s going to be the end of that chat. Take it to heart, because I’ve said it enough to the women in my life, that I am simply out of evens.

Now, back to “no”.  You want to be heard?  You want someone to believe you when you say “no” to anything from an invitation to an advance?  Own your “no”.  Do NOT wiffle-waffle.  You don’t have to give a reason for saying no.  You don’t have to make an excuse.  You do. not. have. to.

Being strong does not always have to do with being able to withstand emotional or physical pain.  Oftentimes it’s about enabling yourself to create boundaries unapologetically.  We are such a polite culture, but is it really polite to say yes to something you don’t really want to commit to?  Is it polite to be anything other than your authentic self?  No.  So, say it with me, “NO.”   

I learned this years ago when someone told me to own my time.  It’s my time, and frankly, I never have enough of it.  Over the years, I’ve gradually cut out things that I call “the lettuce” or filler in my life, because at the end of the day, there is no time for me to do things half way.  I’m not being rude by saying no.  I’m not doing it to hurt anyone, I’m doing it to save my sanity, and to be honest about what’s important to me- my husband, our children, and the people that I’m close to.  I refuse to be sorry for making time for things that matter, and -for the most part- saying NO without guilt or explanation for the things I cannot or do not want to do.  Once I made that choice, I genuinely felt a weight lift from my life, and I truly think you will too.

Check in this week for travel tips on visiting one of my favorite cities, Cordoba.  Also, in the spirit of graduation season, I’ll be sharing an interview with my friend, Courtney Abraham, Global Head of Talent Strategy and Development at the Adecco Group.

Mastering Self-Doubt

“Self-doubt robs you of your potential.”  About a year ago, our eldest daughter asked me what I dreamt of doing as a girl.  When I thought about it, all of my girlish hopes ran through my mind…pediatrician (my mathematical abilities and self-doubt killed that one), fashion designer (again, confidence was not my strong suit), superhero (okay, that one may have been a reach), the list goes on.

When I got pregnant with our first baby, I read every pregnancy and parenting book out there.  I’m really not kidding.  I read about the militant moms, the crunchy moms, the moms that stopped showering, doctors who are moms, fashionistas who are moms, you name it, I read it.  My takeaway was this:  No one knows what the hell they’re doing.  No one.  And I’m fairly sure we should all start saving for therapy the moment we pee on the stick, because frankly, no matter how amazing or present of a parent you are, you’re going to mess these humans up.  Because, hold on to your bootstraps…you’re human.

So how does this relate to self-doubt?  Here’s how.  If you doubt yourself, if you listen to that horrible, whiny, vicious bitch in your mind, I can guarantee you that you will accomplish nothing.  I mean it.  Nothing.

Chew on that.

Now look in the mirror.  What’s your first instinct?  Did you pick yourself apart, or did you identify the good? 

Last Saturday, our eight-year old attended a birthday party and told me there was a girl there who wouldn’t eat a donut because she didn’t want to be fat.  I told Laela that I personally believe that if you say unkind things about your body, your body can hear you, and you should treat yourself with kindness.  Do you eat a hundred donuts?  No.  But it’s equally unhealthy to tell yourself that donuts are the devil.  Extremism and negative self-talk are the enemy here.

None of us are perfect.  Maybe you have a slightly big nose, maybe your ears stick out.  Maybe you’re amazing at math, but can barely spell your name.  You can choose to focus on those things you consider shortcomings, you can dwell on the things that you’re not so great at, or you can channel that focus into positive self-talk.  You may surprise yourself by how much you can accomplish by believing in yourself.

The moment we had our first child, I realized that she is watching me.  She is watching how I speak to myself, how I speak about myself, and how I treat myself.  Being a positive role model isn’t just about how we treat others or what we do - it’s about showing kindness to ourselves.  I hear myself in our children on a daily basis (sometimes this is hilarious, sometimes terrifying). 

I was so awful to myself for so many years.  I took every negative thing that was said to me, and I held it inside as if my heart were a safe for all those horrible things.  One day, I decided that I wasn’t going to hear that inner critic anymore.  It’s taken almost ten years, and removing negative, detrimental people from my life, but I feel good about my choices and I learn from my mistakes.  I’m (usually) kind to myself.

Being kind to yourself is just as important as eating healthy and exercising regularly.  It enables you to reach your true potential (which if you allow yourself, may surprise you).  Be kind.  Do your best.  Work hard.  Dive into life without fear of failure, because I’m telling you, even the worst failures can be so freeing and so awesome.

This is our middle babe, Coco. She refused to be anything but Superhero Princess Coco for the last two Halloweens.  

Make Time.

For the last two weeks, my girls and I have been taking “Flat Stanley” on adventures in Zurich for our dear friend, Henry, in Georgia.  His second-grade class was inspired to use the Flat Stanley books to connect with friends or family that live far away.  You send Stanley in the post, and your friends/family send you some photos and mementos from the adventures he had.

This comes at an interesting time for our family, as we’ve been in flux about where we’re going to land after this school year.  We’ve moved seven times with our kids, and our eldest has gone to four schools.  Needless to say, we all feel like our hearts are a bit scattered across the planet.  Sometimes that causes a disconnect between friends and family, so it means a lot when people like Henry, and his supermom, Christine, make the extra effort to reach out, visit, and send small reminders that we have another “home” with people that love us.

I’ve always struggled with the idea of “home”.  I’ve moved over twenty times in my life, and I don’t ever remember feeling like a place was my home.  I’m very, very rooted in people, the majority of which I’ve met throughout the last few moves, and they’ve become the family that I never realized I needed. This has taught our girls to nurture their friendships, no matter where they are.  Call, write, send a message or photo.  Charlotte, our middle bean, is obsessed with sending letters.  The girls have a keen understanding that it takes effort to have and maintain relationships, and if I have anything positive to take away from their being uprooted so often over the last 8 years, it’s that they have a sense of just how important people are.

That said, let me leave you with some advice.  I once had a professor fill a jar with marbles.  He asked us if the jar was full.  Half the class said, yes.  The other half recognized that the jar still had space.  He then poured in sand, as a reminder that there is a lot more space in that jar than you think. 

My advice is this- make time.  Everyone is busy.  It’s our current human condition.  If you love someone, and you want to maintain a relationship with them, during your busy life, make time.  Put a reminder in your phone, or on your calendar if you kick it old school with a day-planner.  Because at the end of the day, at the end of your life, the things that matter, are your people- the builders in your life and the builders OF your life.