How to Begin Homeschooling: A Step-by-Step Guide (from a Veteran Mom Who's Been There)

When I began homeschooling over 19 years ago, I only knew one acquaintance who was doing it. There was no social media to scroll for ideas or encouragement...just a deep gut feeling that this was the right path for our family. I was a military spouse raising two kids, moving frequently, and living far from extended family. Still, we dove in, step by step, figuring it out as we went.

Now, with both of my children grown and thriving, I look back and see the beauty of it all—the messy, uncertain, yet miraculous beauty of homeschooling. Whether you’re just beginning to consider it or are ready to file your notice of intent, I want to walk you through the basics with both practical advice and some perspective from someone who’s lived it.

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1. Know Your State Laws

Before you order a single book or set up a homeschool room, check the homeschooling laws in your state. Each state has its own requirements; some ask for a notice of intent, others require specific subjects, record-keeping, or testing.
Visit HSLDA.org or your state’s Department of Education website for a clear breakdown.

Tip: When we were stationed in different states, the legal requirements often changed. I kept a binder with printed guidelines for each new place to help me stay compliant.

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2. Define Your Why and How

Take some time to think about why you’re homeschooling. Are you seeking flexibility? A faith-based education? A better fit for a child with unique needs?
Next, explore different homeschooling approaches, such as classical, Charlotte Mason, unit studies, unschooling, or eclectic (most of us eventually fall into this category).

When I started, I thought I had to recreate public school at home...desks, bells, a strict schedule. Spoiler alert: we ditched that fast! What worked best for us was a flexible, eclectic but still structured approach.

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3. Choose a Curriculum and Gather Materials

There’s no “one-size-fits-all” here, and that’s a good thing. You can choose a full boxed curriculum, mix and match resources, or even build your own from scratch using free online tools and library books.

Early on, I spent too much money on flashy curriculum that suited one but not the other. Later, I learned to test things out, ask for recommendations from other homeschooling parents, buy used when possible, and trust my instincts.

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4. Set Up Your Space and Schedule

You don’t need a Pinterest-worthy classroom. What you do need is a space where your child can focus and feel comfortable.
Create a loose daily rhythm, but give yourself permission to flex. Learning happens in the kitchen, the car, and the backyard...not just at a table.

Our "homeschool room" was usually the dining room table, the office, the couch, and a basket of books. And honestly? That was more than enough.

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5. Plan Your Year (Loosely)

Sketch out a simple plan for what you want to cover in each subject. Set milestones, not for pressure, but for direction. If you’re not a planner by nature, even a basic outline for each quarter can help you stay grounded.

Some years I had beautiful planners. Other years, we just kept records in a binder. Don’t let planning become a burden—let it serve you.

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6. Prepare Your Child (and Yourself)

Talk with your child about this new journey. Involve them in picking books or setting up the space. Be honest that it’s new for you, too, and that you’ll learn together.

The first year is the hardest, not because it’s bad, but because it’s new. Give yourself time to unlearn the mindset that says learning only counts if it’s measured and scheduled. You’ll both grow so much.

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7. Start… Then Adjust

Begin your first week gently. Think of it as a “soft launch.” You’ll quickly learn what works and what doesn’t. Be willing to pivot. Your homeschool will evolve...let it.

Some of our best homeschool moments weren’t planned. A rabbit trail on a small topic can turn into two weeks of science projects and library trips. Don’t be afraid to follow the wonder.

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8. Keep Records and Stay Legal

Stay organized with attendance sheets, work samples, and reading lists. It doesn’t have to be complicated; a 3-ring binder or Google Drive folder will do.

I kept everything in a simple 3 inch binder for each child. In the front of the binder I kept the lesson plans. I had dividers for each subject where I kept their quizzes, tests, and writing assignments. It was a lifesaver when we needed to create transcripts in high school.

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9. Find Your People

You don’t have to do this alone. Look for local homeschool groups, co-ops, or online communities. These connections are gold, especially on hard days.

One of my biggest lifelines was the co-op I eventually helped lead. It gave my kids community and gave me adult conversation and encouragement.

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10. Enjoy the Ride

Homeschooling isn’t about perfection; it’s about connection. You’ll have rough days (we all do), but you’ll also witness incredible growth, deep conversations, and moments you never would’ve had otherwise.

I blinked and my homeschool journey was over. Now, I cherish every memory, every read-aloud, science mess, and kitchen table math tear. It was all worth it.

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You’ve Got This.

If you’re standing at the start, know that you’re not alone. This journey isn’t about being the perfect teacher—it’s about being the person who loves your child enough to walk this path together.

✨ Need a head start? Don’t forget to check out the Free Homeschool Resources Masterlist, which I put together just for parents like you. You can find it here.

Have questions or need encouragement? I’m here. You can comment below or send an email to homeschoolresourcesbychrissy@gmail.com

Board Work Behind the Scenes: Why I Still Volunteer Post-Homeschooling

 

When my youngest graduated in 2023, I thought I might finally slow down. After all, I had homeschooled both of my children for 17 years—an entire season of life poured into lesson plans, read-alouds, math tears, field trips, co-op days, and everything in between.

But just as I was preparing to hang up my “homeschool mom” hat, the board I served on was going through a season of transition and desperately needed support. Our group had exploded during and after COVID, as many families turned to homeschooling - some out of necessity, others by choice. We suddenly found ourselves fielding the same 500 questions every single day. Families were overwhelmed. New homeschoolers were searching for support, resources, and reassurance. So, we took action.

We built a handbook, a months-long project that involved writing, editing, fact-checking, and collaborating. I also designed and launched our group’s website, allowing interested families to easily access information and connect with us. It was a massive project, especially considering I was also recovering from two spinal surgeries in the same year. But I kept going. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.

Today, I still head up our homeschool co-op, which ranges from 200 to 300 student participants and their parents. Co-op isn’t just a casual drop-in gathering. It takes meticulous planning, scheduling, coordination, and communication. And like the rest of the board, I’m a volunteer. None of us is paid for our time, and yet we give hours every week to make this group function. Because we know how much it matters.

Our co-op, like most, relies on participating parents to volunteer in some capacity. Whether it’s teaching a class, cleaning up after an event, or helping supervise activities, it takes everyone. But someone has to organize all that. Someone has to answer emails, arrange classes, manage waitlists, update the website, oversee the budget, and ensure that everyone feels seen, heard, and supported. That “someone” is the board. That’s where I come in.

So even though my kids have “graduated” from this world, I’ve stayed. I’m in the in-between season now—no longer an active homeschool mom, not quite an empty nester emotionally, but still deeply connected to this community. And I stay because I love it. I love the families. I love seeing the kids smile at co-op, exploring new subjects, laughing with their friends, and proudly showing off their projects. They’re always a little sad when co-op ends... and honestly, that motivates me to start planning the next one.

But more than that, I stay because I remember what it felt like to be new and overwhelmed. I was once the mom with two young kids and no idea what I was doing. Back in 2006, homeschooling wasn’t a trendy choice. It wasn’t mainstream. It certainly wasn’t supported. I got plenty of scoffs and side-eyes:

• “Why would you want to homeschool?”
• “Are you even qualified to teach your kids?”
• “Isn’t that kind of... weird?”

People would quiz my children with random trivia, trying to trip them up as if their ability to answer would prove my worth. Others would say, “I could never be around my kids that much.” *Insert eye roll here.*

But I kept going, and I eventually found a community. That community helped shape our homeschool journey. It gave us field trips, friends, support, and strength. It gave me the courage to keep showing up. And now, I want to be that same source of support for today’s families.

So, how long will I keep doing this? I don’t know. I’ll serve until I’m no longer needed, or until God nudges me in a new direction. But until then, I’ll continue to give what I can, when I can.

Because the truth is, the parents need support just as much as the kids do.

And if I can help even one mom breathe a little easier, feel a little more capable, or smile a little bigger—I’ll gladly stay behind the scenes, doing what I love.

Held Together by String and a Prayer: Where Pain from hEDS Really Comes From

Most people don’t think twice about walking across a room, bending to load the dishwasher, or carrying a basket of laundry. But when you live with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS), even the most ordinary tasks can feel like trying to hold your body together with string and a prayer.

This is the life I’ve known for years. A life of invisible battles and constant adaptations. And while I’ve gotten used to hearing “but you don’t look sick,” the pain I carry isn’t just in my joints...it’s layered, complex, and deeply misunderstood.

So, where does the pain from hEDS really come from? The answer is… everywhere.

💥 1. Joint Instability

In hEDS, connective tissue is too stretchy and fragile. Ligaments can’t hold joints tightly in place, so things move—sometimes just enough to cause that deep ache, and sometimes enough to dislocate completely. I’ve had days where something slipped out just walking across the kitchen, and other times from rolling over in bed. These aren’t dramatic injuries. They’re just... life with hEDS.

💪 2. Muscle Overuse

Because my joints are unstable, my muscles have to do the work of keeping them in place. That constant effort leads to muscle tension and fatigue...like my body’s always trying to “brace for impact.” It’s exhausting in a way that sleep alone can’t fix.

One place I feel this most intensely is in my back. From the moment I get out of bed, it starts building.

The best way I can describe it is this:

It feels like the burn you get at the gym when lifting weights and your muscles start to scream at you.

Now imagine that burning never stops.

That’s what my back feels like all day long. It’s a dull roar in the morning, but by evening, it’s an unbearable fire.

No matter how I sit, stand, lie down, or stretch, it never truly goes away. It’s like my back muscles are stuck in “workout mode” without rest or relief. 

🔁 3. Repetitive Microtrauma

Even small, daily movements can cause ongoing wear-and-tear injuries. Picking something up off the floor, opening a jar, or folding laundry can lead to days of soreness or swelling. There’s no “safe” movement, just less damaging ones.

This is what happened when I tore my TFCC (triangular fibrocartilage complex) in my wrist.

All I did was water my plants...repetitively, using a watering can. It didn’t feel like a big deal at the time. But the next day, I couldn’t twist a doorknob, button my pants, or turn the key in my ignition without excruciating pain.

I spent six months in physical therapy, trying everything. Eventually, I had to be persistent and push for exploratory surgery. It turned out that I had, in fact, torn my TFCC.

Fast forward ten years, and it happened again, but this time in my other wrist.

I was simply making the bed, lifting the corner of the mattress to tuck the sheets. My wrist dislocated, and the pain was instantly familiar. We were living in a new town, and I had to see a different doctor. I told them, “It feels just like last time...I think it’s a TFCC tear.”

But again, they insisted on six months of therapy first. I kept speaking up. And in the end?

I was right. Another torn TFCC. Another surgery.

Now I have to be extremely careful with how I use my wrists. I’m hyper-aware of how I lift things, twist, or bear weight. I’ve learned to pre-think every action...my brain is always working ahead of my body. There’s no autopilot. Every “doing” requires planning. Because with hEDS, repetitive movements don’t just tire us, they break us. 

⚡ 4. Nerve Involvement

When joints slip or tissues swell, nerves often get caught in the middle. I’ve experienced everything from burning and tingling to electric-shock pain. It’s unpredictable and cruel, and it can come out of nowhere.

My worst nerve pain began after riding a roller coaster with a sudden backward launch. I felt a “stinger” in my neck that didn’t go away. MRI results showed bulging discs, congenital spinal stenosis, and severe narrowing around my spinal cord and nerves.

As a military spouse, I was treated at a naval hospital. I underwent a laminoplasty, but the surgery had to be aborted mid-procedure due to a leaking dura and my body’s inability to respond to anesthesia. After six months of recovery, I had a second surgery, an ACDF, which finally brought relief.

Still, I’ve never regained feeling in the tips of my right thumb and index finger. Nerve damage from hEDS doesn’t always heal - sometimes, we’re just left with what’s lost.

🔥 5. Central Sensitization

When you live with chronic pain, your body starts to learn it, too well.

Over time, the constant input of pain signals rewires your nervous system, creating a condition called central sensitization. It’s like your brain’s alarm system is permanently stuck in the “ON” position. Even when there’s no real danger, the body interprets normal sensations as threats.

Loud noises might make you jump. A light touch can feel like sandpaper. Gentle pressure feels like fire. You’re not weak or broken; your nervous system has just become too good at being on alert.

For me, there are days when I feel like I’m wearing my shoulders as earrings...they’re so tight and tense, like my body’s physically bracing for something to go wrong. And other days, the hair on my arms and legs stands up, like I’ve got the chills from a fever… except I don’t have a fever. I’m not even cold.

It’s just my nervous system misfiring.

It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never lived it. It’s not “anxiety.” It’s not “just stress.” It’s a full-body hijack that I can’t talk my way out of.

When it hits like that, there are only two things that seem to help:

🛁 A hot bath to settle my nerves from the outside in

🛏️ Or going straight to bed, hoping that sleep will hit the reset button

And usually, thankfully, by morning, my body has calmed. But it’s always there beneath the surface, waiting. And when you live with hEDS, you don’t just manage joint pain...you manage a nervous system in survival mode, every single day.

😴 6. Fatigue & Sleep Disruption

Pain messes with sleep, and poor sleep makes pain worse. Add in muscle fatigue, emotional exhaustion, and the constant mental load of managing symptoms, and it becomes a never-ending cycle. There are days I feel like I’ve run a marathon just from doing the dishes and answering emails.

I live in a body that asks a lot of me. Some days I can rise to meet the challenge. Other days, I need grace, rest, and a soft blanket.

But I’m learning to tell the truth about my pain...not to seek pity, but to offer perspective. If you’re living with hEDS, I hope you feel seen. And if you’re someone trying to understand a loved one with chronic pain, I hope this helps connect a few dots.

We are not fragile; we are resilient in ways most people will never fully understand.

And yes, sometimes, we really are just held together by string and a prayer.

What It’s Like Living with hEDS (That You Might Not See)

Most people don’t think twice about walking across a room, bending to load the dishwasher, or carrying a basket of laundry. But when you live with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS) — even the most ordinary tasks can feel like trying to hold your body together with string and a prayer.

And yet, from the outside, most people wouldn’t even know I’m in pain. That’s the part they don’t see.

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It Started at Birth

My journey with hEDS started long before I knew what it was. I was born with clubbed feet and had to wear a Denis-Browne bar as a baby and toddler — a metal bar that attached to special shoes to correct the way my feet turned in. Even after treatment, I'm still pigeon-toed. I’ve always been knock-kneed and have had hip issues for as long as I can remember.

Looking back, it all makes sense now. But as a child, I just knew I was always a little different.

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Childhood Clues and Missed Diagnoses

Growing up, I was constantly injured. I rolled my ankles regularly — it seemed like every weekend I had a new sprain. Running the mile for P.E. was torture. I even had a doctor’s note excusing me, but one teacher made me run it anyway. I finished, with a sprained ankle, and then passed out from heat stroke. I was left in the nurse’s office until the end of the day.

(The famous "W-sit")

At the time, no one thought to ask why I kept getting hurt or why I struggled so much physically. I just got used to being the kid who needed to sit out or wear a brace.

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The Car Accident That Changed Everything

When I was 18, I was rear-ended in a car accident. It wasn’t major, but afterward, I began waking up every day with a stiff, aching back. I went through physical therapy and saw a chiropractor, but the pain never really went away. I chalked it up to the accident and assumed it was just part of life now.

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Motherhood: A Joy and a Wake-Up Call

At 23, I had my first child, and my body didn’t recover the way I thought it would. I experienced intense groin pain every time I stood or walked, but I didn’t say much. I figured that was normal after childbirth.

Five and a half years later, I got pregnant again. At just 20 weeks, I could barely roll out of bed. The pubic pain returned with a vengeance. At the time, we lived on a remote island in Alaska with no OBs — only general practitioners. They told me it was just “round ligament pain,” but I knew better. I saw a chiropractor three times a week who tried to adjust my pelvis. I made it through that pregnancy and delivery, but it was miserable. That was when I knew: two kids is enough.

Later, after moving to Alabama, I finally saw a proper OB who listened. She diagnosed me with Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD) — a condition that made total sense, considering how hEDS affects ligaments and soft tissue. I wasn’t crazy. My pain had a name.

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Injuries That Didn’t Make Sense

Years later, I hurt my wrist watering plants with a watering can. That tiny, repetitive motion led to a pain I couldn’t shake. I wore a brace. I did six months of physical therapy. Nothing helped.

Eventually, I insisted on exploratory surgery. The doctor was skeptical. He said, “This kind of injury only happens to baseball players who slide into home plate.” But when I woke up, I was in a full arm cast — I had torn my TFCC (triangular fibrocartilage complex) after all.

Ten years later, I tore the same cartilage in the other wrist — this time just making my bed. The doctor didn’t believe me at first, until I explained what had happened to my right wrist. I had surgery again, and again — the tear was real.

17 Things I Learned in 17 Years of Homeschooling

 Reflections from a Veteran Homeschool Mom

Seventeen years. That’s how long I homeschooled my kids—from the early days of learning letter sounds with Play-doh to high school science labs at the kitchen table. It wasn’t always pretty. It wasn’t always peaceful. But it was always worth it. Along the way, I learned a few things—sometimes the hard way. Here are 17 lessons I took with me:

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1. No Two Kids Learn the Same Way

You can read every book and take every personality test, but at the end of the day, your kids are who they are. My daughter was textbook smart. She loved workbooks, read novels for fun, and thrived with structure. My son? Complete opposite. He was hands-on, had to do to learn, and memorizing anything was a struggle. I had to unlearn a one-size-fits-all mindset fast.

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2. Just Because It Worked for One Child Doesn’t Mean It’ll Work for the Other

I spent a small fortune on curriculum I thought would work for both kids. It didn’t. What lit my daughter up completely bored my son, and vice versa. Flexibility is a homeschooler’s best friend.

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3. Repetition Isn’t Failure—It’s Reinforcement

I used to get frustrated repeating the same concept a dozen times. But you know what? Repetition until it's ingrained is learning. That’s not falling behind—that’s how mastery happens.

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4. Use the House as a Living Classroom

I had flashcards everywhere. On the fridge: “7 x 3 = 21.” On the bathroom mirror: “6 x 8 = 48.” I turned our home into a math labyrinth. If they opened the fridge, they read the card. Brushed their teeth? More math. Learning doesn’t only happen at a desk.

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5. Mental Health Days Are Real and Necessary

There were days when no one was in the mood to learn—not them, not me. On those days, we’d reset. Rest. Watch a documentary. Bake. Take a walk. Homeschool burnout is real, and sometimes the best learning happens after we press pause.

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6. Use What’s Already Out There

You don’t have to reinvent the wheel. Blogs, YouTube channels, Khan Academy, online classes, podcasts… they all became part of our school toolbox. When I couldn’t explain something well, someone else could.

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7. Homeschool Friends Are Lifesavers

Connecting with other families gave us accountability, encouragement, and community. Whether it was a co-op, playdates, or just coffee with another mom who “got it,” I was reminded I wasn’t alone.

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8. Field Trips Count as School

Museums, zoos, nature hikes, fishing trips—if they’re learning, it counts. Some of our best days were out in the world, asking questions and soaking up life. Those days mattered just as much as the ones with textbooks.

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9. Make Math Practical

When we grocery shopped, they calculated cost-per-ounce, added totals, and figured out how to stay under budget. That’s math in action. I even made them estimate the final bill at checkout.

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10. Balance Structure with Flexibility

Yes, we needed a plan. But I also had to learn to bend. Some days ran like clockwork. Others got derailed by illness, military life, or just bad attitudes. That’s okay. Learning to adapt was part of the curriculum, too.

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11. The Only Way to Finish… Is to Start

Some days it felt overwhelming. The to-do list. The subjects. The attitudes. But every journey begins with one step—or one subject. We didn’t have to finish the whole book in a day. We just had to start.

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12. Socialization Doesn’t Have to Be a Problem

My kids found friends through dance, sports, church groups, community classes, and volunteer work. They learned to interact with all ages. “Socialization” wasn’t the issue people assumed it would be.

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13. You Will Second-Guess Yourself

There were moments I was sure I was failing them. When the math tears started. When the comparison monster crept in. When I was too tired to care. But over time, I saw fruit. Progress. Confidence. It was working.

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14. Start the Day with Coffee… and a Smile (Even If It’s Fake)

Some mornings the only thing holding me together was caffeine and a prayer. I found that a cheerful attitude—even when forced—helped set the tone. School is a four-letter word some days, but laughter and grace made it lighter.

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15. Your Home Will Look Like a School... And That’s Okay

There were books everywhere. Science kits in the kitchen. Maps in the hallway. It didn’t look like a Pinterest-perfect home, but it was full of curiosity, creativity, and connection.

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16. You’re Learning, Too

I relearned long division. I finally understood grammar rules. I studied history through adult eyes. Homeschooling shaped me just as much as it shaped them.

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17. It Goes by Faster Than You Think

In the beginning, 17 years felt like forever. Now I’d give anything to have just one more read-aloud on the couch, one more nature walk with notebooks in hand. It’s hard. It’s exhausting. But it’s beautiful. And it ends before you know it.

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Final Thought

Homeschooling isn't about getting everything perfect. It’s about growing together. It’s about grace—grace for them, grace for yourself, and grace for the shifting seasons.

Who Am I Now? Rediscovering Myself After Homeschooling Ends

 

— A new beginning unfolding.

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Who Am I Now? Rediscovering Myself After Homeschooling Ends

For seventeen years, I knew exactly who I was.

I was the mom with the lesson plans in one hand and a planner in the other. The mom with dinner and snacks in the cooler, books in the tote bag, and a car that logged more miles than most rental fleets. I was the organizer, the motivator, the teacher, the tutor, and the personal chauffeur. Our days were full of structure, flexibility, laughter, and stress. But above all, they were full of purpose.

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A Leap of Faith into Homeschooling

I started homeschooling when my oldest was in first grade. We had just moved from Alaska to Alabama, and I enrolled her in the local public school down the street. At our teacher meet-and-greet, the reading curriculum was laid out by level, from A to J. I asked my daughter to read the highest-level page. She did. Easily.

Thanks to a loop-teaching system at her previous school, she had been going to the first-grade class during reading time in kindergarten (Thank you, Mrs. Conforti). She was already far ahead. At the new school, I asked if she could be moved up or placed in a higher reading group. The answer was no. I asked if she could visit a second-grade class for reading. Still no. I asked about testing to skip a grade—they didn’t do that until third grade.

As a military family, we moved often. I knew that falling behind in one place could cause issues at the next. I decided that day to homeschool her, not out of fear, but out of determination to let her thrive.

Once I got into it, I realized it wasn’t as complicated as I thought. So when my son reached kindergarten age, I started with him, too.

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A Life in Motion

We homeschooled through multiple states and numerous seasons of change. My daughter danced intensively in Virginia Beach, and homeschooling was the only way we could accommodate her schedule. She continued through 11th grade and graduated from a dance conservatory in her senior year.

My son stayed with homeschooling for all thirteen years. In his last two years, he dual-enrolled in community college, earning his associate degree in science, a full week before graduating from high school.

In between the math and the literature, I spent 50+ hours a week driving to and from dance classes for my daughter. My son trained in Taekwondo, Jiu Jitsu, piano, cotillion, rowing, and Civil Air Patrol.

Our life was in motion—always moving, always multitasking, always full.

And then, just like that, it ended.

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The Quiet That Followed

I had always planned to go back to work or school once the kids graduated. I thought I’d finally pour into myself after years of pouring into everyone else. But one month after my son’s graduation, I had spinal surgery. Then another, six months later.

The chronic pain I’ve lived with for years, thanks to Ehlers-Danlos hypermobility, was growing louder. Sitting and standing for long stretches became unbearable. I couldn’t be dependable for any job. My body demanded flexibility that most workplaces don’t offer.

Suddenly, both of my plans—career and continued education—disappeared.

My husband lovingly reminds me that I don’t have to work. Financially, we’re okay. But the truth is, I want to contribute. I want to be useful.

And without homeschooling, without a career, without even the ability to work part-time… I’ve struggled.

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Who Am I Without the Same Roles to Fill?

For so long, my identity was tied to what I did. I was the homeschool mom. The military spouse. The dance mom. The curriculum planner. The ride-giver. The sandwich-maker. The crisis handler.

I still serve on the board of our local homeschool group because I have a heart for homeschoolers, and helping is part of who I am. I’m still an Ombudsman too… not even for my husband’s current unit, but for a unit he was stationed at two units ago. I stayed because I believe in showing up for others. Serving is in my DNA.

But even with those titles, something has shifted.

When your identity has been so deeply rooted in nurturing others, what’s left when there’s no one left to nurture?

And even more...what happens when you are the one who needs care? When your body slows down, but your heart and mind are still bursting with ideas and passion?

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Sitting With the Questions

The truth is, I don’t have all the answers. I’m still in the middle of this transition. Still asking the hard questions.

What do I love, just for me?
What makes me feel alive when no one else is watching?
What does contribution look like when money isn’t part of the equation?
Is rest a worthy purpose? Is creativity enough?

Some days, I feel lost. On other days, I feel a flicker of something — curiosity, creativity, purpose — trying to push through the grief and the fog.

I’ve started writing again. I’ve dusted off old ideas and explored new ones. I’ve considered sharing my journey publicly, even though I’m naturally introverted and deeply aware of how vulnerable this season feels.

I’m trying to give myself the grace I so freely gave my children.

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Becoming Something New

Maybe you’re here too, standing on the other side of a long season of caregiving, wondering who you are now that it’s over. Maybe your identity was wrapped up in parenting or homeschooling or service, and now you feel like you’re floating in an unfamiliar space.

If so, I want you to know you’re not alone.

This isn’t the end of your story. It’s a turning page. A blank chapter. A sacred pause before the next beginning.

I don’t know exactly where I’m headed yet. But I’m learning to listen. To rest. To create. To try. To be.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

Choice, Chance, Change

Choices, Chances, Changes

You must make a Choice to take a Chance, or your life will never Change.

I Am Not One for Change

Every day I wake the kids for school (actually drag them out of bed) and get them started with breakfast and homeschool... do laundry and whatever else needs to be done in the house (there's ALWAYS something)... 3:00, hurry out the door and head to dance... drive an hour to get there... sit and wait 5 hours till classes are done and head home... another hour drive... get home between 10:30 & 11:00... wind the kids down and get them off to bed... then do it all over again the next day.

Sounds fun!? I do what needs to be done, but truthfully I'm exhausted!

“Ashlyn's talent is our 'why' in this equation. In turn, I have turned into Robot Mom… just chugging along.”

After our tumultuous transfer from Mobile to Elizabeth City, we realized the closest dance studio was an hour away. It is what it is, and we did what needed to be done. Meanwhile, lack of sleep, fast food, and a body breaking down after Plantar Fasciitis and physical therapy… I was tired in every possible way......

Rediscovering This Post Nearly 10 Years Later

I wrote those words in 2015. Seems like forever ago! Then life happened, and this blog—like so many other things—got left behind.

Recently, I reopened this post, and reading it again felt like stepping back in time. So much has changed—but the core of it? The why? That stayed the same.

Back then, I was showing up so Ashlyn could chase her dream. And now, all these years later, I get to look back and see how far that dream has taken her—and us.

The Detour That Was Actually Direction

Ashlyn had to step away from dance for two years in high school. She tried a local studio, but it turned out to be a bad fit—they even called her in to teach when instructors were out. She was just a teenager, trying to train, and it was clear she needed more. She left the studio and found a local theater group, Center Players, where she could keep performing and stay connected to movement while she auditioned for the University of North Carolina School of the Arts (UNCSA)

She got waitlisted the first year.

It crushed her… but it turned out to be the best thing that could’ve happened.

“What felt like rejection was actually redirection.”

In her artistic statement, she had said she hoped to continue at UNCSA for college. If she had attended for two years of high school, she would’ve had to repeat a year to meet diploma requirements of three years of undergrad. Getting waitlisted allowed her to join for just her senior year, then seamlessly transition into their college program and complete the full three-year track needed for graduation.

Dreams Rewritten—But Not Lost

Ashlyn went on to graduate Summa Cum Laude from UNCSA with a Contemporary Dance degree—in the middle of COVID.

She taught wherever she could when she came home. She danced with a company in Norfolk, taught at a few studios and a Governor’s School in Virginia, and eventually felt the call to go even further.

NYU had extended their master’s program deadline. At the last minute, she applied.

A week later, she was accepted.

Today, she lives in New York City, where she just graduated in May with her Master’s from NYU. She’s also earning her ABT teaching certification, and for her internship, she’s working at none other than the world-renowned Martha Graham School—her absolute dream job.

The same girl who once feared her dream had slipped away is now living it—boldly, fully, beautifully.

The Full Circle I Didn’t See Coming

And me? I’m here, finishing a blog post I started when I was barely keeping my head above water—writing through exhaustion and love.

“Turns out… we both kept going.”

We made a Choice.
We took a Chance.
And life—in all its mess and magic—Changed.

This isn’t just the ending of an old post. It’s a reminder that no effort, no long drive, no tear or tired night is ever wasted.

To You, Reading This

Maybe you're in the thick of it now. Maybe your dreams feel delayed or detoured. Maybe you're tired.

I see you.

Hold on to your "why." Keep showing up. Because one day, you might look back and realize—the very thing that almost made you quit was actually shaping your story in the most beautiful way.

Keep Ashlyn Dancing

Please take the time to read and consider.  It would mean a lot to Ashlyn and our family. 

1st day of school!

It's the 1st day of the 2014/2015 school year!  I now have a high school freshman and a 4th grader!  Ack!  We started our day with a 2 mile run...we'll I ran and the kids rode their bikes.  According to Ashlyn, dancers don't run!

We are now settled in and starting the school day.  Hoping it'll be a good year!!

9th & 4th grade

End of Summer!

Summer is over!  School starts tomorrow!  Where did this past year go?!  We have been so busy that I haven't had time to take as many pictures/memories as I would have liked to.  So this year I am making it a priority.  I took a peek at my old "picture a day" blog and it was so nice remembering all of those little everyday things I had forgotten about.  So, while I know I probably won't be able to keep up with a picture a day, I will try to do a few a week.  Today's picture is of me and Chason.  Ashlyn was being a typical teen and refused to be in the picture. *rolls eyes*