A change in direction

The past couple of months have been a whirlwind. They always are, but this summer especially blazed by. I have so much to update, pictures to share, milestones met and surpassed. When life gets busy, my writing always gets back burned. Sorry little blog.

Alas, here I am! Musing and celebrating and cheering an accomplishment I wasn't quite sure how to share with the world. So here goes:

I have accepted a position as the Executive Director of an incredible breast cancer fund here in Boise called Expedition Inspiration.

Our mission is to "raise funds for cutting edge research and an annual medical symposium through a variety of outdoor and other special events, to raise awareness and public support, to promote physical and mental well-being of breast cancer survivors and their families."

As I approached going back to work after a two year hiatus, I felt it incredibly important to find more than just a job. I wanted to work for an organization that would fulfill this desire in my belly and my heart to make a difference. Many of you know that my lovely, sparkling Grandma Joyce was diagnosed with breast cancer and bravely and gracefully fought for her life. I couldn't have found a better job/career than raising money and awareness for a disease that takes too many lives. I'm raising a daughter who has boobs! I can only hope that in her lifetime a cure for this dreadful disease is found. I am beyond elated to say that I am contributing to that search.

Beyond purpose and passion, this new "job" also affords me the flexibility to keep writing, and most importantly, be present for my family. I'm pretty certain this lovely lady had a hand in this new venture.

Coming soon: photos and tales from our Swiss adventures. Here's a brief preview. There's only 537 more.

Happy Friday! xoH

Worth sharing

I've felt guilty recently because my writer's inspiration has been null. I've sat down a number of times to write a post to no avail. It's not that I haven't had things to share. I guess I felt I had nothing profound to say. It's funny to feel that pressure here, on a site that is entirely my own. The pressure to produce something worth sharing.

I had coffee with a friend this morning who, like me, is searching for that professional lightening rod -- that thing/place that would not only make you feel great and motivated, but would also make money.

I left her feeling great and motivated, ready to write, inspired to produce something worth sharing.

That said, it makes me wonder what really is worth sharing? As I try so hard to put myself out there as a "writer" I often wonder if anyone reads what I write. Writing is such a fickle medium, one that allows readers to skim and skip and scan. It's nebulous too. The Internet has allowed any and everyone to become a writer. It seems every third person has a blog these days.

The last couple of weeks I've been dabbling in a new genre, one that scares the hell out of me: young adult fiction. I've never written any fiction. I've actually only taken one creative writing class, and I was horrendously terrible. Like the worst one in the class. I actually got a C. The only other C I ever got was in college algebra, which makes me queasy to recall.

However, I have this story in my head and my heart that I keep dreaming about. I have a character who is taking shape without a lot of effort, and I have managed to write a few clumsy chapters. But I keep asking myself is this shit worth sharing? Would this text get me in front of an interested editor or publisher let alone kids who are perhaps the world's toughest audience?

Ian perpetually teases me about writing the next Harry Potter-type series so we can retired on a sailboat before we're forty. I always say, yeah, yeah. One day I'll write it. But how many people actually sit down and do it? Insert whatever nagging item here . . . how many people actually follow through?

I suppose that is what's so great about this space. I can write whatever I want, I can hit publish, people may or may not read it. The good thing too about writing here is my wheels get turning. Writing begets more writing? I think so.

Who knows if this little character will ever the grace the pages of a real book, but first, I need to believe that her story is worth sharing. I'm working on that.

"What do you do, Hailey?"

It's funny how a simple question like, "What do you do?" can evoke anxiety. Over the years, I've had myriad jobs. I've been a ski instructor, a waitress (several times), an ice cream maker, an hr manager, an outreach coordinator. I've sold ads, I've taught wellness classes, I've written grants, I've made coffee and cocktails.

All of those careers, if you will, were well and good. They helped me get to where I am today with a host of random skills and a pretty wild (albeit decent) resume.

Upon moving to Boise, my response to that question for a while was, "I'm a stay at home mom." It's funny how much judgment passes with that statement. For those of us who have stayed at home, you know that it's a tireless and exhausting job that requires patience and the ability to spin 37 plates in the air at the same time without burning down your house. It's also totally awesome and an incredible  gift to one's family.

I never in a million . . . TRILLION years imagined I would have the chance to stay home with my baby. It has been an enormous blessing, and I owe so much to my gracious husband for the opportunity.

I think some people imagine this life of staying home as one of yoga pants, Kardashian marathons and endless bowls of popcorn. Sadly, for me, not the case.

Regardless of how productive my days are/were, I felt I needed to be doing something else while I was home. I missed being a productive, wage-earning member of my partnership. I also craved using big words with grownups.

That said, I dabbled in some freelance writing. I started with some local magazines writing advertisements and fun, uplifting editorial pieces. Gradually my portfolio grew, as did my connections for new work.

After completing my MA, I never in a million, perhaps trillion, years imagined I would actually use my degree in this capacity -- as a writer. I knew I had a lot of great, transferable skills making me a better communicator and thus a better employee. However, I am really tired of being just someone's employee.

So do you know how CRAZY it is for me now when people ask me that question, "What do you do, Hailey?" and I reply, "I'm a writer." It makes me want to pee in my pants. I still feel a little funny saying that, like, perhaps tomorrow I'll wake up and it was all a dream.

In July an article I wrote will be featured in a national magazine. It's a piece about how having a baby hasn't ruined my life -- it's only made it that much richer. The photograph below of Malia and me inspired it, and this beautiful magazine chose to run it.

It's called The Village Magazine. Click here for more information. I hope you check it out. Buy a copy. Squeal when you read it. Smile when you read my bio.

I can't tell you how proud and happy it makes me to be able write . . . for paycheck! Thank you for reading along here with me. Thank you for encouraging me to keep writing. I am hopeful that I get to wake up tomorrow and the offer still stands.

Big love to you all on this beautiful Friday. Have a wonderful weekend! xoH

Health, happiness and love

Today is my birthday eve. I don't know how it's even possible that it's already June. I sound like a broken record, but seriously, time slow down!

My birthday has always been the culmination of summer. As a kid, my mom threw amazing sleepover parties in our giant army tent in the backyard. My birthday usually fell on/around Western Days in Twin Falls, which always made for cheap thrills watching the parade just blocks away from our house. I always liked to think the parade was in my honor.

Birthdays now days involve much less fan fare, and sadly, no parades.

It's funny to think that Ian proposed to me on my birthday just three years ago. We snuck out of the office for an afternoon birthday float, and he got down on one knee with tears in his eyes. I kept asking him what's wrong?! Are you hurt? Did you kneel on a fish hook? Why are you crying?!

He pulled out the ring, and we were both crying. We then squealed and kissed and shouted, "We're getting married!" to every boat that passed our little island. I like to tease him that he set the birthday bar pretty high that day.

This year Auntie Julia has volunteered to watch the babe. I'm looking forward to a ride in the hills on my new (new to me) bike and dinner with my main squeeze. Simple, quiet and pretty perfect.

My birthday wishes have also become significantly more simple and more meaningful. Much like my daily prayers, they now involve health, happiness and love. No ponies or yellow convertibles or parades in my honor.

Happy birthday to me! Here's to another joy-filled year! xoH

Small blip in the world of important things

Ian is traveling for work this week. These few occasions when he's gone reminds me how truly helpful he is when he's home. More than an extra hand in the kitchen or around the house, it's the realization of how much Malia needs both of us. He provides a different source of love for her. He functions on a different level of playfulness that I attempt to reenact, but usually fail epically. I try to read in his voice and end up sounding like I doped up Sesame Street character.

While we missed dad, today was a really smooth day. We played hard this morning. She helped me plant my planters and pots in the backyard. We read lots of books in her tent. She napped easily and well. This is a photo I snapped shortly after she woke up. She returned to her tent and stretched and slowly woke up (yes, she's still in her jammies at three p.m. When dad's away!). We went to the park with Auntie Julia. We ate take out for dinner.

Bedtime didn't seem to follow the day's easy manner, and boy did I wish her daddy was home to lend a hand. I'm not sure what went awry. I do know that she was mad and I was frustrated, which usually ends poorly for both of us. Eventually after some yogurt, some tears and then some snuggles, she wound down and fell asleep.

These nights when I find myself biting my lip in frustration I have to remind myself how fleeting these days are that she actually wants me to put her to bed. She still loves to snuggle her downy head into my chest and rock with her blanket wrapped just so around her arms.

A woman I follow on Instagram, a woman whose daughter is just six weeks older than Malia, and a woman who I adore without even knowing dropped a bomb on her feed last week. Her daughter was diagnosed with Leukemia. Upon learning the dreadful C word had entered her sweet baby's life, I couldn't get them off of my mind. I told Ian how sad and heartbroken I was for that little girl and her family. Learning that she has spent the last week in the hospital receiving chemo through a port in her side, as well as spinal injects made/makes me want to throw up.

These nights when I find myself frustrated that my baby won't easily fall asleep are such a small blip in the world of important things. I sit here now wishing I would have snuggled Malia a little longer and a little harder enjoying the smell of her just out of the bath hair. I sit here now sending my friend Kelly and her baby Ivy so much love and light that they both can persevere through this horrendous time. I sit here now thankful for my healthy child and pray that we have many, many more nights to snuggle and rock. xoH

Happy times

I just got back from a weekend at our cabin. Built by my grandparents in the seventies, this dear place has been a refuge for the entire family. Since my grandmother's death last year, it's become a bittersweet place for my grandfather. With it's sprawling landscaping (all lovingly constructed and cared for by that sweet man), it's grown to be too much for him to maintain.

My folks have taken "legal" ownership of the cabin, though it will remain to be shared and loved by the whole family. The past couple of weekends we've sifted through years of collected treasures, artworks created by little cousins now grown adults, discovered decades-old baby clothes dotted with moth holes all the while reliving years and years of memories. Watching Malia explore the same landscapes that I tootled around as I child has proved such a marker of time. 

Yesterday I literally chased my grandfather around the property as we tested each sprinkler line. He is loosing his eyesight yet his body and mind are as fit as mine. Our sprinkler tutorial reminded me how he holds so much institutional knowledge. 

With the changing of the cabin guards, I didn't want him to leave. I wanted to freeze time. I felt like a little kid again, shadowing him in the yard as he did his chores. 

It's remarkable having such a place, a time capsule of sorts. It makes my heart happy knowing that Malia will have similar, loved memories of her grandparents, her aunts and uncles, hopefully someday her own Hodges cousins. As bittersweet as this change has been, it's thrilling to start the new chapter. The cabin will continue to be loved and cherished by a new generation. I hope to be lucky enough to one day spend time at the cabin with my own grandchildren. 

Until then, I am more than content looking back on the years and years of happy times and the years and years of happy times to come. xoH

Mother's Day

This morning I'm coming off of vacation-high. We spent the weekend with Ian's family in Northern California where we frolicked (literally) on the beach, ate incredible food, and enjoyed some long-overdue time with extended family.Being that yesterday was Mother's Day (and Ian's birthday!), I felt extra loved and special as I travelled with my little family.

This year Mother's Day felt different than last. Last year I felt like I hadn't quite grown into my title of Mother. This year, though, I have settled in and feel more deserving of that grand title.

Having eighteen months under my belt (I know that still qualifies me as a newbie in this sorority of mamas), I am more comfortable with my role as Malia's mom. Not only that, I think I am just more comfortable with myself.

This entire process of growing a baby, delivering that baby and then nurturing said baby is a shock to one's systems. I don't resemble that girl eighteen months ago who had such a rosy and hopeful outlook of mothering. Looking back, I think I was a bit arrogant too. My daydreams of everything from Malia's birth to breastfeeding to sleep to my relationship with my husband turned out a lot different than how things actually played out.

That said, I've had a year and half to adjust. I think that's largely what this whole gig is about -- adjusting to the daily ebbs and flows of life.

I realized yesterday as Ian and I took turns chasing Malia around the airport, I feel pretty well adjusted in my role as a Mother. I've learned that I can't control everything, especially the choreography of my very spirited little girl. That's been my biggest lesson learned this year.

I couldn't help but glow as I watched her smile and say hello to strangers or squeal with glee and say "airplane!" as each new plane arrived at our gate. What made me happiest, though, was the feel of her petal-soft hand as she reached for mine as we walked.

There were a number of moms and babies on our flight yesterday. I felt a strong sense of sisterhood with those other women as we ushered our kiddos onto the plane. I watched those sweet little faces snuggle into their mama's necks, touch their faces, hold their hands. I feel pretty proud and blessed to be a member of this community, this sisterhood of mothers.

A late Happy Mother's Day to all of you wonderful, inspiring, loving mommas! I'm excited to see what lessons are in store for the coming year.

Hope you all had a great weekend. Cheers to a new week! xoH