As summer winds down, I find myself reflecting a bit. The last few years have been chaotic—leaving administration, finishing up at my old school, moving to a new one, frantically setting up a classroom, learning curriculum, just trying to get my footing—and before I knew it, summer was gone. But this year felt different. I officially survived 6th grade…again. Teachers get out about two weeks earlier than administrators, so when I checked out in early June—bam—it actually felt like summer this time. On top of that, Amanda and I moved in together back in February. Looking back at our timeline, it’s easy to see how some might say things moved fast. Maybe they did. But here’s the thing—I’ve learned to speak my truth a little louder. And the truth is simple: I don’t care what anyone thinks about the speed of it. We’re in our 40s. We know what we want. I’m happy. Freaking happy. I don’t think I’ve ever written out the saga of how I met Amanda. So here goes: It was not a dark and stormy night...
Usually these posts come from some inspirational reel, a song that hits a nerve, or an epiphany that sneaks up on me. Honestly, I haven’t had any of that lately. Right now, I’m just sitting here waiting for the potatoes to finish baking so I can make twice-baked potatoes. Call it the “calm” before the storm. In about five minutes I’ll be juggling soggy potato shells that feel like hot diapers, trying to scoop them out without destroying them, mixing butter and cream before piping it all back in. Then it’s the meat on the smoker—which should be simple if I can make it across the backyard minefield left by Ellie and Jasper. Of course, the backyard has zero shade this time of day, so I’ll be standing there in the blazing sun, breaking out in hives… still. Ah, the hives. They showed up right after Nari was born. Everything I read said they’d go away in a few years. Well, it’s been nine. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. Another story for another time. Heartbreak though—that’s its own b...