I guess I was 26 years old when my parents split up; or maybe I was 25. When I say it that way, it makes it sound like it happened so long ago, even though it was just at some point in the past twelve to twenty-four months. Either way, it happened slowly and then all at once, like most things in life.

The past year or two have been dizzying with changes in my family, and I haven't told you guys about it until now, which has made me feel a bit inauthentic. Not because I feel like I always owe the Internet an explanation of what's going on in my life, but because there are so many things I've wanted to say--to express--and I haven't felt comfortable doing so until now.

Rob and I went to the lake this weekend and so many different feelings struck me from strange angles: happiness, nostalgia, anger, sadness. The morning air was brisk and billowy fog rolled over the surface of the cold water as it always does this time of year, and I sipped my coffee and thought about how all of this used to feel; marveling in the fact that at times, it still feels the same. It's a bouquet of emotions--some with luscious petals, fragrant and full of hope; others dried up, the blossoms falling apart one at a time. 

I'm an adult. I don't need my parents to be together and to be really frank, I also don't want them to be together. But none of this was easy, the way I thought it might be a year or two ago when I thought well, we aren't kids any more so what's the difference? You grow up and you realize that your parents are just people like you, and you want them to be happy. First I felt lost. Then I was mad. Now I'm okay.

The weirdest thing was the very ironic pride I felt whenever someone would mention (usually in a Facebook post with old wedding photos) the strength of their parents' marriage. It's always the same: Happy anniversary to my wonderful parents, who are celebrating [insert number here] years of marriage! Thank you for showing me and [insert sibling or spouse's name here] what a successful marriage looks like. 

At first I took this really personally, like Rob and I were going to miss out on something because we didn't have their positive influence in our lives. But that's just ridiculous. My parents have still taught me more about marriage than they could ever know, and for that I am thankful. Because whether it's cute and heartwarming or really incredibly sad, you can learn a lot from the people in your life, whether they've decided to stay married or not.

That's where I am now--letting things be what they are, and trying to make the most out of it. And no longer hiding this thing that's been on my heart for quite some time.

For as long as I can remember, I've identified as someone who loves food. My mom was always cooking something delicious when I was a kid, and her dad was always doing the same while she was growing up. We were big pasta eaters, too--everything was served with or on pasta. 

Having an Italian mom from Argentina meant a lot to me--we drink yerba mate every morning when we're together and cooking has always been a favorite family pastime. And carbs! Who doesn't love pasta? I certainly do, which made it really tough for me to realize that I was gluten intolerant a few years ago. I started swapping out gluten and grains and dairy and sugar and was feeling a lot better, even if I missed our old traditions (pasta with pesto and arroz con leche to name a couple). But I soon learned that it's not necessarily what you're eating that makes food special--it's who you're sharing it with.

And we came up with some new favorites--this Paleo Pizza Chicken is one of them.

Ingredients: 

• 1.5 pounds of chicken (you can use thighs or breasts--I like thighs with skin on)
• About 3 ounces of pepperoni
• 1/2 onion, diced
• About 2 tablespoons of olive oil
• 1-2 cloves of fresh garlic, chopped
• 1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano
• About 15 ounces of Traditional Ragu pasta sauce
• 2-4 tablespoons of black olives (optional)
• Salt and pepper, to taste
• Fresh parsley for garnish

Instructions:

1. In a large pan or skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add garlic and diced onions and saute for 3-5 minutes.
2. Slice or cut up the pepperoni and add to the pan, along with some of the olives (save a few to top the dish when it's done).
3. Place the chicken in the pan and brown well on one side. Flip it over and cover with some tomato sauce. Season with oregano, salt, and pepper.
4. Turn the heat to low and cook for 10-15 minutes, or until cooked through (time will depend on the thickness of the chicken).
5. Serve hot with a side of veggies--I love roasted Brussels sprouts!

Thank you to Ragu for sponsoring today's post and inspiring me to pass on my family traditions!

When I planned this time away, I thought for sure that I would be writing and blogging and getting tons of work done, but the truth is that so far I've spent a lot of time watching my mother sleep.

You always suspect that one day you might have to take care of your parents, but the truth is that my Paleo-eating, heavy weight-lifting, always-cooking, high-speed laundry-folding, CrossFitter of a mom has always seemed pretty unstoppable. But a double mastectomy will slow down even the most heroic of women.

The truth is that even at their most difficult and painful, things are going well. Her surgery went smoothly and both surgeons were happy with everything. I hope I never forget the way it felt to get good news in that waiting room on Wednesday.

So I'll be here, maybe not blogging so much, but distributing pain meds, heating up food that our neighbors and friends were kind enough to make for us, and cruising through Parenthood in between naps (I can't think of a better show to binge-watch at a time like this). 

I can't even begin to thank you all for your thoughts, prayers, and well-wishes this week. This community is an amazing one and I'm so happy to be a part of it.