Hello : )

I'm Sarah and I'm married to Pete (he's the bearded one in green). Those other two small folks are Norah and Crosby, currently 5 and 3. We live in Mebane, NC and we like to do neat things. 

This is the company I work for.

This is Pete's job.

This is Norah's story and this is Crosby's.

And this is a few years worth of stuff about us to keep you busy should you ever find yourself in a position of having absolutely nothing else to do.

Below is a little something I wrote about how this blog came to be. If you make it to the end I'll give you a cookie (next time you're in Mebane).

The (long) story...

Having kids was always part of my plan. Not a considered, carefully planned plan per se, but the kind that exists in your being from early on and emanates through your actions and words. As young children I believe most of us share this sentiment, not because we fully understand its meaning, but because our limited perspective on the world suggests that that’s just what you do. Then we grow and learn to question, and we form thoughts and opinions based on more than the information immediately in front of us, and some of us change our minds.

There was a time when I questioned not whether I wanted to have kids, but whether I should; a time when my growing awareness of the dangers of humanity lead to fervent declarations against procreation – ‘how could anyone want to bring new life onto this shit pot of a planet rife with villains, pedophiles and NRA members?! Cynicism struck young for this gal. Even then, I’m pretty sure my deep rooted desires for offspring were lingering silently in the shadows, calmly waiting for the fires of doubt to burn out.

My husband and I met when I was 19, became engaged when I was 22, began our respective careers when I was 23, married when I was 24, and purchased our current home when I was 27. Throughout all of that venturing into adulthood, starting a family was a regular conversation, with a growing sense of preparedness and want. In October of 2009 we decided it was time to try, and on November 7th we got our positive pee stick. Our daughter was born the following July and our son nine days shy of two years later. 

When you pack it so nicely into that neat little paragraph it sure does seem simple doesn’t it?

Well. If you’re a mom or dad or partner or homeowner or employee or boss or really any human being that has experienced some amount of time in the world of being a grownup, you might agree with the millions of us out there that have reached the conclusion that being an adult is hard. But so is being a teenager, and getting old ain’t easy, and even though we adults now know that you have a pretty sweet time as a kid, your underdeveloped emotions might have you believe that even the days of recess and nap time are no fucking picnic at the beach (unless you actually are at a beach picnic in which case you probably had to do very little as a child to prepare for it and in fact may believe it happened by magic which most likely doesn’t seem hard at all).

Some sort of point is coming. Hang in there. 

I had (have) a blog that I started when I began my first pregnancy. It’s called Elderland and I kept up with it in spurts that became increasingly spotty the further into adulthood I dug. Aside from the obvious benefit of capturing in detail the happenings of my family life, the most fulfilling aspect of keeping that blog was its satisfaction of my native need to write. For years it was just what I needed, and even when I ignored it entirely for months, I loved knowing it was there and was confident I’d go back. Then something changed. My fondness for Elderland shifted to a nagging feeling that something about it just wasn’t right. For a time I thought it was mostly about design and would spend hours testing templates and layouts, but even after settling on something acceptable, the anxiety of discontent lingered. The problem was, I could not seem to figure out why.

Back to the kid thing. I have them, I love them, and I plan to keep them (for now). I also spend a lot of time and energy (and money on therapy) working through what it means to me to be a mother. As I navigated my twenties and the many milestones noted above, I built an identity around the various parts of myself that I was cultivating. Some were healthy, positive and respectable like runner and career woman, and the rest were mostly related in some way to drinking, being poor or trying really hard to be cool. Sill, despite my messy bits, I was learning to love me, and by the time we decided we were ready to have children, I felt as though I’d hit a nice stride. Then I gave birth. 

Bringing it altogether…

I finally realized that what was bothering me about Elderland, more than the uninspired aesthetic, was a lack of congruity and purpose. Though each post made me proud on its own, I struggled to be satisfied with the aimless diary like structure and style, and above all, it did not motivate me to write. What I needed was to create a beautiful and structured space that I could connect to, and in turn foster and nurture my purpose—to express candidly and completely everything that I am feeling and experiencing as I work to find balance among the many parts of me—wife, runner, executive, writer, over-joiner turned simplifier, novelty chaser and fun seeker, and now and forever, mama. 

Is mama my final new identity? Of course not. Since becoming a mother I've also become a Chief Operating Officer, a marathoner, an international traveler, a mobile photographer, a tattoo enthusiast, a counseling veteran, and a 4% fluent Italian speaker (thanks Duolingo!). I’m proud of the woman I am, and powerfully aware of the growing I still have to do. The life that my husband and I have built for our family is one that I never take for granted, and the adventures that lay ahead leave me giddy with anticipation.  

If you’ve made it this far I’m feeling pretty solid about the fact that you might come back, so for that I thank you and say welcome to my life, my brain, my feelings and my faults. I may not rock your world or move you to greatness, but I will be open and honest, sometimes bordering on raw. I will cuss occasionally and complain at times, and I may even make you laugh or cry (here’s hoping). I will share all that I am, and should you choose to give a little piece of yourself back through comments or emails or connecting in some other way, I'll be truly grateful. I'm serious about that cookie too. Come on down.

Reach me here: 

sar.elder@gmail.com 

@superelder

@elderlandnc