While I don’t think I’ll ever completely move on from this space and all the time and love I have put into Freckled Italian over the years, I have recently found myself excited at the prospect of starting fresh over here. I don’t see why I wouldn’t occasionally post certain pieces here (and I hope to get back into some recipe development in the not-so-distant future, which I’m sure will live on this site), but just in case I hope you will join me on Substack!
In November of last year, a couple of weeks before her sixth birthday, my daughter lost her first tooth.
She came home from school, giggling through a tight-lipped smile before saying “hey Mom, guess what?” and opening her mouth wide, jutting her bottom row of teeth forward so I could see. Her little baby tooth was in a plastic baggie in her folder, placed there by her teacher with a note that said “Sophie lost a tooth today!”
Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I threw on a jacket and headed to Target by myself in search of confetti and change for a twenty dollar bill. It was so dark out at only 7:30 PM—with little kids we so rarely find ourselves out of the house after their bedtime, and as silly as it sounds I was shocked to see the parking lot so crowded. There were several sets of young parents with newborns in car seats, and I so clearly recalled also being at Target with a brand new baby, fully engulfed in the newborn haze, having just finished a peppermint milkshake from the Chick-Fil-A down the street.
It was surreal to walk through the aisles of the store–alone, well-rested, fully aware of the time and day–buying tooth fairy supplies for a kindergartner who was sleeping soundly in her big girl bed back at home. It was the first time I really took a moment to feel the alone time I get in this season, with a six and now almost-three-year old. When they are tiny babies it feels like every night that they don’t sleep is the way life will be for you forever. Rocking a newborn in the middle of the night or nursing a teething baby, the time you might have slipped out of the house for a post-dinner Target run feels like a lifetime away.
And I know that this “two little big kids” time won’t last, either.
Last week I got a root canal on a Tuesday and a tattoo on Wednesday. I can’t say I recommend the pacing of those two events but it really did give me some gratitude for the way most of us usually get to go through life in a relatively neutral state of not being poked by needles. My family met me for dinner after the tattoo and I realized that my anxiety often causes me to forget how lucky I am. I don’t mean it in a toxic positivity “be grateful no matter what” kind of way, but the reminder that I have access to good health care as well as the flexibility and budget to spend four hours and $500 on something just for me was profound as I dove into a spicy chicken sandwich, my arm sheathed in saran wrap.
I don’t have to get a root canal–I get to have a root canal. Or something.
Am I supposed to be on Substack? Are we blogging still? Are people reading this shit? I look back at my time as a full-time blogger/“influencer” and cringe just a tiny bit, but there are a lot of things I have written on the Internet that I am very proud of. I have more things I want to write but the actual follow-through isn’t there anymore and in the rare cases that I do sit down at my computer to try to put something into words I find myself like “what was I getting at and how long does it take to slow-roast a piece of salmon?” I’m sure I will look back one day at this time when I could barely finish a thought and laugh, my heart twinging slightly that I don’t have to pack little kid lunches anymore.
But until then I really do wonder about Substack. Someone LMK.
Somehow August is here and I have not so much as logged into the back end of this website; my browser no longer even tries to auto-complete “Squarespace.com” for me.
It has been a busy year in the best way, but this blog—the creative hobby that became a side-hustle and then turned into a brief career before quietly leveling back down to an afterthought—has definitely not been on my list of priorities. I think that’s okay, even though there’s always this part of me that wants to sit down every week with a cup of coffee in the morning before everyone in my house has woken up and write what’s on my mind.
For the past year and some change, my early mornings have been spent at the Pure Barre studio where I started teaching last summer. It started with one early Tuesday and eventually I added Mondays, then Wednesdays, then Thursdays, and when I’m not teaching I’m often there taking class. It feels so good to have that community, especially after a couple years of pandemic life where it was just me and my Peloton.
But now summer is coming to a close in the next few weeks and my schedule will once again be changing. Like I do every August, I feel that soon-to-be-fall nostalgia and longing for cooler weather, sweaters, a pot of homemade soup on the stove; but this year I am not leaning into it as much. Sophie is starting Kindergarten so soon, and Gideon will be going to preschool a few mornings a week, and while I am excited for them and all the fun that awaits them, my heart breaks a little bit as we close this chapter of little ones always at home and open up to the next one.
This weekend we are headed to the beach for a week with family, and when we come back it will feel like summer is truly coming to a close as we buy new shoes and go to open houses, meeting the teacher and packing lunches.
2023 was our first year in a long time without a major transition—we didn’t move, we didn’t have a baby or find ourselves tinkering with nap schedules and sleep training. Sophie went to preschool every day and we had the same wonderful nanny a few mornings a week, I continued to teach Pure Barre, Rob continued to work out of his office upstairs.
We spent a slow and sleepy winter at home without many plans, it felt good after a busy year. Spring came and we took the kids to Disney World for the first time for what turned out to be a truly magical and memorable trip. Rob took all of April off, a lovely perk of being with his company for five years.
We went on our first overnight trips without the kids for two friends’ weddings, one in Virginia and one in California. It felt so nice to get away, and even though we missed the kids like crazy it felt like a little part of our old life was finally being restored after several years of life with babies.
In May Gideon turned two, my family came to visit, and Sophie graduated from preschool. We spent a fun weekend celebrating it all, including a girls afternoon to shop for wedding dresses with my soon-to-be sister-in-law. We planted a garden that has yielded exactly two and a half zucchini, one crooked little squash, one tiny green bell pepper, and a handful of cherry tomatoes but has also provided countless playing-with-the-hose opportunities.
In July I started going to therapy again after a few years away, giving EMDR a try and hoping to finally get a significant handle on my anxiety. So far it has been extremely eye-opening and helpful even after just a handful of sessions. And finally, last week one of my best friends and I took a very spontaneous weekend trip to Las Vegas, which ended up being so fun and so relaxing. We swam, we lounged, we ate, we laughed until our faces hurt.
I don’t quite feel ready to trade in swim lessons and sunscreen and open afternoons at home for the hustle and bustle of our first real school year, but I know as usual we will ease into it and let it become our new normal. I’m looking forward to having more time to focus on my family, my home, on cooking regularly, and maybe even sitting down to write again.
I hope the past 8 months have treated you kindly. If you are still here after all these weeks and months and years, I thank you.