"Just Okay"

"So, how's the foster care thing going?"
"Good." "Okay." "We're making it!"

The facial response to my "okay" is always amusing. What? Just okay? You're living out something you've been dreaming of and it's just okay? 

I know you are concerned. I know you just want to follow our journey. I know how you want to hear that it's never been better and our family has never been more whole or put together.

I wish I could tell what you want to hear, but dreams aren't easy. I wish I could tell you that a blended family is as smooth as a nuclear one. I wish I could tell you that being a foster parent is like being someone's biological parent.

I can't. It's not.
Dreams are hard.
Loving is hard. 

Our family was put into the blender already, and then we've blended it even further. Nobody tells you that when you walk into a blended family, you have to learn to love a child. We want to think that becoming a step-parent or a foster parent is just like having them ourselves. It isn't-it's much, much harder. We didn't bring their life into the world and immediately bond or love these children-

We fought to love them. We chiseled away at chaos, confusion, brokenness, years of lacking and we bled and stretched to love them. I have known this feeling well, as I've been a step mom for nearly five years. For Jarrod, I'm sure fostering is even a little harder than it is for me, as he's always been someone's "real dad". I have spent the last few years navigating the ship of being an "other", the backstage hand. I have known the pain of realizing that you don't step into a child's life and love them the first day, nor vice versa. You will spend time, so much time, so many awkward days, learning and growing to love one another.

Fostering is on the same path, but harder. Not only are you throwing yourself out, totally naked in your vulnerability to love a child you've just met-but someone before you didn't love them properly. My boys have always had parents to love them, to sing over them as they slept soundly, to make them feel safe-TIMES TWO.

My daughter has not had this. Attachment is hard. Relationships are hard. Feeling safe isn't something that comes in a month. Feeling worthy, feeling wanted, feeling like you could get uprooted any day because someone "just didn't feel like dealing" with you anymore-doesn't disappear within a few week's time. The fear is real and it is unfortunately justified.

So, you will not only be fighting to love her, but fighting your way through years of walls, of neglect, of rejection, of all the people who quit on her before you came around. This journey is hard, probably the hardest thing I've ever done. 

Fostering is like mile 20 of a marathon for me. I am tired, I am depleted, I am anxious I won't be able to keep running-
but I always do, because I love it that much. I take it one mile at a time, one stride at a time, and I smile because I know what lies at the end.

I want to be able to erase 15 years of pain, of confusion, of abandonment in one hug, one mother-daughter date. I want her to feel safe so badly that I tell her each day that she is worthy, smart, wanted. I want to make up for lost lullabies, so each time she falls asleep on the drive home (always) I sing over her softly. Picture that one.

Think about a blender when you're throwing in a mix of ingredients. It is LOUD-sometimes you have to turn your head to escape slightly from the sound of it.
My family is in a blender right now, so things are going to be a little messy, a little loud, a little "just okay".

Please pardon our sleepiness, our occasional distant stares, our construction zone-
We're currently fighting for love and we aren't quitters. 

Buti Yoga Recap

I don't like being "bad" at things-I am competitive, love to succeed and am typically the one screaming "WINNNERRRRR-I WINNNN-WINNINGGGG!" in someone's face when I beat them. Hashtag character flaw. 

Since I've stepped into the fitness world for enjoyment but also as a career, I was deemed as "bad" at yoga. I don't know where I derived the idea from, as no "flexy Brenda" yoga mom ever told me I was. They probably never even looked my direction, but I felt it.

Running and working out and....let's just be honest, my straight up lack of flexibility, has caused me to barely be able to touch my toes. I'm the girl who can only manage a "shin touch", the girl who sighs with relief when the instructor says to go into child's pose because I'm really good at things like laying on the ground. 

My best friend and I decided to try out a local Buti Yoga class this morning-no literally, we just up and decided yesterday we'd try this crap. Jenn is a natural yogi-she's going to be flexy Jenn yoga mom in a few months, while I'm still struggling to touch my toes. I still love her, even though she's bendy naturally. I walked in totally uptight and honestly, afraid. Let's be real-sometimes walking into a room of women you don't know can be intimidating.

Should I put my mat in the back? 
Is this someone's spot? 
Will they like me? 
Should I cover my ass up more before walking in here? 
Will they roll their eyes at my lack of yogi-ness? 
Why are you doing this Britney, don't you remember that you couldn't even do a Herkey move when you tried out for (and FAILED) dance team in Jr. High? 
YOU ARE NOT MADE FOR YOGA. 

Let me tell you something, fellow "bad" yogis...You are not bad at yoga, and Buti taught me that this morning.
Immediately greeted by a flow of friendship, community and straight up kick-ass woman power, I settled onto my mat and faced myself in the mirror. Strings of beautiful women with every body shape stretched, giggled and let jokes flow. Some wore tanks, yoga pants, shorty shorts, some even in just their sports bra.
But want to know something beautiful? Nobody cared.
You didn't think about outfits, you didn't think about body rolls or cellulite that might be peeking out of your shorts. 

The only concern with your body was celebrating it, it's potential, it's growth, it's sensuality. 

Buti is perfect for every woman, but especially for the one who has felt out of sorts as they attempted to balance in tree pose, who really just wants to yell out a string of extremities when they try to touch their nose to their knee, the one who feels "bad" at yoga, and the one who wants to forget the pointless shame she feels for taking up space. 

In Buti, you are constantly moving from one pose to the next, shaking your booty, enjoying the best (no, seriously) jamming music around, and guess what-it's okay to yell, whoop, holler, laugh, tell jokes, throughout the entirety of the class.

I have zero zen-silence doesn't calm me. Know what gets all the toxic, yucky, mucky, stresses of life out for me? Rap music. Dancing. Laughing with girlfriends. Sweating.

Guess what has all of these things perfectly and beautifully packaged up for you, with a ribbon of girl power tied at the top?

Mother. Freaking. Buti. Yoga. 

Zumba: Bringing Sensuality Back

I'll be the first to admit to anyone that I was once a Zumba critic, so much to the point that when the "crew" popped into the gym, I announced that the Zumba moms had arrived! At the time, the only thing they meant to me was a full childcare room. I can openly admit my own suckiness now because Zumba has transformed a huge part of my life.

DA HECK? Zumba, freaking Zumba, transforming your life? It seems extreme, I know. I'm the kind of person that makes fun of people for statements like this (again, I can admit my own suckiness). But-it's true. I'm a Zumba mom.

There, I said it, ya'll. I'm a twerking, bumping, jumping, "whoo whoo"ing, Zumba mom. 

Something happens to women as we age (don't hate cause you ain't 27 anymore, sorry), and I'm not talking about the way our body stretches, or caves, or slows. It's more than a physical alteration; it's an overarching decline in freaking feeling ourselves. No, we don't go to clubs anymore, unless eating a club sandwich in my yoga pants (which I never do yoga in) whilst watching HGTV counts. The all-nighters are no longer by choice and finding time to see your friends is like me doing yoga-it just doesn't happen, okay?

We lose the moments of looking in the mirror and loving our bodies, breaking it down in the shower; we become afraid to dance like people ARE watching; we become afraid of feeling sexy. 

Damn it, y'all- why? Aging can be so rockin', so why are we dampening and diluting ourselves? We should be falling more in love with ourselves, appreciating the intimacy and connection we now have with our true identities after years of spilling rum on our parent's floors when we hear them come upstairs, or spending two hours to see a boy for five minutes that sends us a mere "yo". HOW DARE HE? 

We begin to shrink, to hide ourselves-in photographs behind friends, in bathrobes, slouchy pajamas and over-sized t-shirts. We simply tuck away our sensual feelings and try on shame for size. Frankly, I'm tired of seeing sexy, strong, smart women selling themselves short and leaving their dancing shoes to disintegrate in their closets.

Zumba saves us. Zumba reminds us that it's okay to be sexy in your 30's, sensual in your 60's! Trust me, there's some prime-timers in class that sing louder about that "big booty" than I'm currently able. It's beautiful. It's inspiring. It's empowering. I love to see women shed anxiety and put on confidence. Honestly, I love to see women of all ages, shapes, backgrounds, dance abilities shaking DAT BUTT, and NOT like nobody is watching, but like the entire world is watching.

In Zumba, you are a prowess, a woman rediscovering your sexuality without guilt. In Zumba, you remember, or discover for the first time, that your hips are built for more than propping up toddlers, but for shakin' babe! It's not uncommon for women to feel like they simply shouldn't be sensual, that we just aren't "built to be that way", so we should sit down and calm down.

Ladies-WRONG. Step into a Zumba class with me and be amazed at the energy in the room. Stick with this weird lady for a minute more, but with each twerk, shake, or body roll-we break free of this standard a little more. We assure the world that no, we are not designed to stay in a glass case; we were made to move, to sing, to shout, to jump, to free our bodies of every stigma and every expectation. 

In Zumba, you are ageless.
In Zumba, you are no one's mother or wife. 
In Zumba, there is no one to tell you to quiet down, to stop acting so silly. 
In Zumba, we are just a tribe of women, dancing, shaking dat butt, and bringing sexy back.