easily safe at home base.
We’ve landed. We’re here in London, to start a Summer of adventure. It was the softest landing here at my best friend Lisa’s home, where we’re home-basing. Marcelline knows their son (age four) and their baby girl (just over a year) and has been talking about coming to visit them for about a month now. But I’ve recently realized that she thinks “London” is their actual home.
We were in the London Heathrow Airport when I said, “Let’s go potty, Marcie” and she replied with, “No, I wanna potty in London!” (this was my first tip.) A couple days later, Marcelline was a bit overwhelmed at a playground (it’s hot out here, y’all!) and said, “I wanna go to London!” Marcelline’s London is this home. When she runs down the steps to the front door, she yells, “Yay! We’re at London!”
The children run around in the garden (backyard) and have just the best time together. If we can’t find Marcie, 90% of the time, she’s outside on their trampoline. She will have snuck outside for just a solo jump. It reminds me of this clip that I made everyone watch. And now we keep saying, “Marcie, I feel like you’re only here for the trampoline.”
The kids easily convinced Lisa’s husband to put a sprinkler under the trampoline and I think it could’ve been Marcelline’s favorite day ever.
Our second evening here, Lisa and I “snuck” away to the farthest corner of the yard to drink wine and talk. I love this familiar feeling of still technically being home, being there, being responsible, being accounted for, but retreating enough to feel removed. We watched the house, the family, from afar. It was a perfect Summer night and it felt like our 10,000th night together instead of our second.
Marcie sauntered across the yard to come be with us. She wanted to play “restaurant” where she asked, “So what you want to order?” and then we list off many normal dishes that they don’t have until finding out this a restaurant that basically only serves carrots and ice cream.
Marcie was preparing our cuisine of carrots and ice cream when I asked, “Ma’am, by the way, what’s the name of this restaurant?” And without hesitation, Marcie answered,
“Cat Pee.”
We. could. not. stop. laughing. Like tears streaming down my face laughing. I had never heard her say this before and she said it with such a straight face and just kept right on making our meals whilst we laughed. It was the best. These moments. The best.
Cut to a couple days later when we were talking about going to this certain café and Marcelline heard and said, “Oh, I like cat pee.” And we figured it out. She thought “café” was “cat-pee.” Honest mistake… I guess. It doesn’t take away from the perfection of that moment and—in fact—Evan and I are babysitting all the kids in a couple weeks and will absolutely be turning the dining room into a restaurant called Cat Pee. Except, I think we’ll have a more extensive menu.
As I keep evolving this here news(love)letter and tapping into myself and traveling, I’m changing things again. And that’s okay! (giving myself grace.) So I’m switching things up below and I’m not having any paywalls for the Summer. But please still consider getting yourself a paid subscription!
A Little View:
This section will just be photos now, with little or no description.
And then Evan was like, “Hold my pint” and took all of these gorgeous photos one morning early…
Blood, Sweat, & Tears:
Three quick moments to keep things real around here.
BLOOD = Something that made me feel like me. Something that made me feel like the blood pumping through me is mine and mine alone.
SWEAT = A really hard something.
TEARS = Something that made me cry.
BLOOD
I was going for a short run around the neighborhood here in London, listening to this podcast episode, when a fox crossed my path. Now, I know that foxes are super common in England. I know that now. But it was pretty magic to be on this forest path and have this beautiful orange fox cross in front of me. And you know I immediately looked up with it could mean—symbolically and spiritually.
“Change or transformation: Foxes are associated with change and transformation in Celtic mythology. Crossing your path could indicate that you need to adapt to new circumstances or embrace changes in your life.”
SWEAT
I bought this random thing that ended up being the BEST purchase. Evan and I sat separately on the plane, so we could switch off taking turns with Marcie and both get some sleep and it really worked! (side note: I’m 80% sure I read that tip on www.lovetaza.com back in the day and I just went to try and find it and apparently Naomi Davis just erased herself and her 37 children off the internet!)
Anywho… JET LAG IS REAL. The first night, Marcelline fell asleep at 7:30 and we thought we had won. Then she woke up at 11:30 and DID NOT GO BACK TO SLEEP. And I forgot that jet lag tired is like having a spell put on you that makes you tired, after you’re already tired. It was horrible. I stayed up with her until 2:30 and then just unabashedly passed the buck to Evan. I finally got up at 7am to find them downstairs, run ragged. Moments later, while Marcie was on the potty, she looked at me and said, “So Momma, how was your day?”
TEARS
Real Talk: I cannot separate my self-esteem from my daughter’s behavior right now. I need to, but I can’t. And… she’s been hitting and kicking and hurting people. On Father’s Day, right before we left for a special Sunday Lunch, Marcie pushed my BFF’s baby over and the baby hit her head and cried and cried and Marcie barely registered it all. We all took the train to the pub and sat down and ordered and while the food was taking a while, Lisa took her babe around for a walk. I got up to catch up with her and just started crying, telling here, “I just feel so bad.”
I think I always put so much of my identity into what I did and where I worked and what I created… and now I don’t work anywhere. I’m truly trying to find a place to hang my identity… and instead of being like, “I am who I am and that is enough” I’m trying to pin my identity (worth) on being a mother. And subconsciously, I think the fact that my toddler hits makes me a bad mother, which (in my new definition) would make me a bad person. It doesn’t. I’m not. But I did have a good cry about it.
Thank you for being here and watching this crazy adventure unfold. I hope you like the changes and will be gracious with the cadence. You are incredible. Have a wonderful Solstice and celebrate that light!
xxo,
Rachel