Shit streams and champagne dreams.

Ahh yes, back in the mommy abyss.

I remember you.

It's been quite some time since I was alone on that island when the girls were babies and in truth, I'm a totally different (new?, improved? errr... more insane?) mom today.

But I remember the feel of it. Vividly. The sudden change in my identity, the dramatic shift in my relationship, the all consuming new roles and responsibilities....

Basically, swimming (or drowning) in the deep sea of complete chaos of it all-

Trying to manage my life before with my new life with babies.

When Aspen was hospitalized, I thought, okay, we’ll figure this out. As the days rolled on and the shit tsunami was taking me under, I began to realize that other aspects of my life were going to fall to the wayside.

Namely? My professional-self. The entrepreneur Brie that built a brand and a business when a previous shit storm hit us all.

I was juggling both for several months. And ya know the dance, mamas. Where you try to work some, while you try to home some, where you feel like most of the time you’re sucking at both.

However, with Aspen needing all of me, there was no longer the option to continue to do “some.”

Pressing pause on my online business, stepping off the teaching schedule for my coaching job… all of it felt devastating and yet without a doubt, necessary.

Now at home, the waves are less violent, however, the water I’m swimming in still feels capable of pulling me under. Why? Maybe it’s because I readily feel the shittiest when I come up for air.

Ironic, no?

It’s like in the times where I catch my breath for a minute, my mind instantly starts rolling over the things I “should” get back to doing. The things that would make me feel as though I’m more productive than, say, cleaning feeding tubes and baby butts.

I freakin’ love what I do. Outside the home, that is.

Nothing fosters more confidence and belief in myself than when I’m rocking a class, coaching a group, or training and supporting others.

Why can’t I feel that way more when crushing home shit?

Wait, do we ever say we are rocking home life? I don’t think I’ve ever uttered those words- like, "I just nailed that tube-feeding." "I totally held my baby for as long as she needed." "I kicked ass playing peek-a-boo 128371 times this afternoon." "You see that milk? Yeah, I pumped that." *pumps chest at the same time.

It’s rare that we feel the same gratification or recognition of home life as we do with our professional selves. It’s why most SAHM feel like they never do enough, constantly trying to justify their worth to anyone who will listen.

It’s funny. At a soccer game over the weekend another mom was like, “you’re in the shit.” Like the time with a baby + chaos of other kids + marriage and all that is involved was shit enough. Then she was like, “throw in Aspen’s shit, and you’re really in the shit.” Made me laugh, honestly, because I felt so damn seen and this felt so freakin’ true.

So in efforts to keep swimming in this shit stream, I’m going to try to change my perspective a bit. Ya know, toast that champagne because damnit, there clearly is plenty to celebrate without a big fat paycheck or an employee of the month award.

Aspen is home. Aspen is making some small gains. Aspen is so damn loved its oozing out of her pores.

Knowing this, I think I'll start looking at every coo, giggle and shriek a bit differently.

Where these heart-exploding exchanges represent say, our currency.

I pay her the gift of a clean ass. She pays me back with the most ridiculous smile.

I kid you not, I’m rolling in moola right now if this were the case.

This baby is making it rain all day every day.

Where can you shift a bit? Where you can imagine your currency, not in the form of that paper and card bullshit, but rather something else entirely…

Cheers to that. And to you.

*clinks champagne

We’re rich.

-B xo