Washington DC: Part 2

 Day 3:

I have to tell ya, the kids loved the Metro system. They loved sitting by each other, sometimes being able to stand up, and playing guessing games while we went from stop to stop. The adults, on the other hand, did not love the Metro. This may have been due to the fact that on Day 5, a guy fell onto the tracks right before a Metro came in to the station and we had to evacuate quickly (He got pulled to safety). Or maybe it had to do with the fact that on Day 6, a man had killed someone on the Metro (not the one we were riding...BUT STILL). Or maybe it had to do with the fact that rush hour is CRAZY and we were all on psycho-mode trying to make sure we didn't lose any of our children.

But the good thing is, we survived! No one lost a kid! So yay for that, right?

On day 3, we headed over to the International Spy Museum. They don't allow pictures inside the building because, you know, SPIES, but we all enjoyed it.
Actually, that's not true. They did allow pictures but not strollers and I left my camera in the stroller. See? I'm already forgetting stuff!

 We packed lunches and ate right outside the museum. Uncle Chris is a pretty awesome photobomber!

 Ninja loved his PBnJ bagels I made for him almost every day. For a kid that is super picky, he seemed to like the packed lunches more than his sister.

Right down the street from the spy museum is the Ford Theater, where Abraham Lincoln was shot so we made a spur of the moment detour over there when we were finished.

 The kids got to touch replicas of Lincoln's fists and then we walked upstairs to hear some facts about how he was killed.

 Across from where we were sitting is the place he was shot and fell onto the stage. Although the entire theater was rebuilt, the picture of George Washington and the couch set up are the exact ones from the night he was killed. Everything else is just a replica of the theater.

 Ninja had to use the bathroom and like a good mom, I told him I'd take him if he smiled for a picture with Lincoln's head. :)

 This girl. SO MUCH PERSONALITY in her little body! I love my niece so much.

 After the Ford Theater, we walked across the street to go through the house where Lincoln actually died. When he was shot, they transported him to a house across the street so he could finish his life away from the crowds of people surrounding the Ford Theater.

 I took a picture of this building right before we headed into the urine-smelling elevator to the Metro (There wasn't a single elevator the whole trip that didn't smell like urine...). I don't actually remember what building this is but it was gorgeous!

 K-Bear was one of my buddies during this Metro ride. Doesn't he looked excited to be with his crazy auntie?!

 And my other buddy, who stayed in the stroller for almost every Metro ride even though he is 5 1/2. I couldn't handle the thought of losing him and he is a pretty curious kiddo so we decided to bring a stroller to help mom feel safer on this trip. :)

On day 4, we headed out with the Taylors to the zoo!

It was the perfect zoo day since it had been raining and the weather was pretty cool.

 The first thing we saw was the black bear and the kids were so excited that they could see it pretty close to them!
I think that was the most amazing thing about this zoo. When we go to our Phoenix zoo, we often have to search for the animals in their habitats but while in Washington DC, the animals were so easy to see in their habitats and we felt so close to them! You'll see more about that in a minute.

 Ninja loved watching the otters play underwater.

 Princess loves elephants. Unfortunately, one of the elephants was under the weather so we couldn't go in the building where you see them up close but we still got to see them as we walked across this bridge.

 This is Princess' version of a flamingo. :)

 My absolute favorite thing about this picture is Ninja's face. We don't ever see the Cheetah at our zoo walking or running. When we came up to this Cheetah, he was laying in the grass and all of a sudden, he jumped up onto that log. Ninja was turning around to squeal his excitement to me.

 We felt so close to this guy! There was actually another cheetah in a habitat next to this one and they were running back and forth with each other.

 The lions were awesome to see as well. They were laying down when we got there but after a minute, they started to walk around and we got to see them really well.

Princess was unsuccessful in pulling the prairie dog out of the hole. ;)

Stay tuned for Part 3! :)

Washington DC: Part 1

 We've been home from DC for almost two weeks now and almost every day, I think about blogging the first portion of our vacation but each time I do, homework or motherhood comes first.

So I'm finally here to at least jot down the first day or two of our amazing vacation and in the future, I'll get more of it up here.

It all started last Christmas when my parents surprised us with a trip to Washington DC. They told us we would be going for the 4th of July and to plan ahead so our whole family could be together.

And it worked! Every single one of us crazy Guthries was able to make it to DC to spend a week together. I should also mention that my second oldest sister lives in Alexandria, VA, which is actually where our hotel was and she is one of the main reasons we got to enjoy this incredible vacation.

Our first flight took off at 7am, which meant we were at the airport at 5am. My kids were pretty tired but did amazing throughout the flights. I, on the other hand, am not a fan of the "take off" and gripped the arms of my seat each time.

 We had a layover in Texas and the grandkids had fun playing games together and laying around the airport waiting for our next flight to DC.

We arrived in DC around dinnertime that Monday and were thrown right into the craziness of the city life as we maneuvered suitcases and strollers onto the Metro to get to our hotel.

Tuesday rolled around and it was time to start off our adventures. We chose to tag along with the Taylors and my parents to the Postal Museum and I'm so glad we did.

 The kids were given a scavenger hunt to keep them busy and they were really into it.

 Ninja asked for a picture with the dead dog---who was apparently a huge part of the postal system as it began and to remember him, they literally stuffed him after he died so they could keep his remains in the museum (Weird...cool...mostly weird).

 The kids got to pretend to drive a semi-truck and play with all the gadgets.

 And they learned about what mailboxes from all around the world look like.

 Here is my boy with the post office "mascot". His name is ZIP.

 Ninja loved all of the planes that were hung from the ceiling.

 And this truck was familiar because it looks just like our postal trucks!

After the museum, we walked across the street and ate lunch before heading off to our Capitol tour.

 We found some really cool sights on our walk to the Capitol building.

 My parents had set up a tour with Jeff Flake's interns and it was fun to meet people who work for our senator and were both from our area.

 Both kids wanted a picture of themselves with that golden eagle above.

 And this is Princess standing in the very center of Washington DC, where the Capitol was built.

One thing I loved about this trip was being with family and easily being able to hand my camera to a family member and asking for a picture of my children and I. That isn't something I can always do and it was nice to see myself in a few of my pictures.

I'll start a new post soon with some more pictures from our trip. It really was an amazing adventure and I am so grateful to my parents for allowing us such a cool opportunity.

Divorce Defines Me

 We are back from Washington DC. Actually, we got back four days ago but I have been swamped with homework to try and catch up. 
I will blog about our trip in a few different posts but there has been a post I can't seem to get out of my mind so I decided to try and write it out while it's fresh. 

Haven't we all heard those "uplifting" quotes that say, "My trials don't define me" or "Don't let your past define your future"? I know I have. And each time I hear a quote like that, I feel something stirring inside of me that says, "This does define me! How could it not?"

I don't know why or when it became negative to allow our past to define our future but maybe I'm looking at it differently.

When I think of something defining me, I think of it molding me into a better person. This includes my good experiences and the really horrible ones. I look at who I am now versus who I was two years ago and guess what? My divorce is part of what defines who I am. It is a part of me and because of those experiences, I am a much different---a much stronger---me.

At the beginning of the week, I was awoken at 1:30am to fire alarms blaring throughout our hotel. I jumped out of bed and quickly realized that this could be a legitimate emergency.

I was scared and alone in a hotel room with my two children and my first reaction was to grab them and run to my parents room down the hall.

This wasn't the first time I have had to experienced incredible fear when thinking about caring for my children alone.

In fact, I was pretty much thrown into that world weeks after my husband moved out when an intoxicated man was banging on my door in the middle of the night and yelling profanities.

But for a few moments, I was so panicked---and then I remembered, I can do this. I can get them out of here and snuggle my scared 7 year old while my 5 year old runs around and laughs and plays {Two VERY different personalities}.

It was one of those moments that I was reminded that divorce does define me. It has changed who I am as a mother and as a woman. I have more empathy and compassion for so many trials, most of which I could never begin to understand.

I don't think it's a negative thing. Maybe you do but I really don't. I don't think this is me not moving on from the past. In fact, I have moved on a lot more than I dreamed I'd be able to. I don't think that talking about the past means that I'm ignoring the present or future.

I think sometimes when we break, we have to reshape ourselves and it's ok to look at the person we once were and see how far we've come.

Divorce will always be a part of my life. It isn't something I can hide nor do I feel ashamed and want to hide it. Divorce has brought some of the highest highs and lowest lows into my life.

And I'm ok with that defining who I am today.

My Perfect Life

 Summer is an incredibly disgusting and beautiful time.

I hate the heat. I can hardly stand it most days. I always feel sweaty and dirty. I can't allow the kids outside as much. It's just annoying and gross.
But then there's the element of fun. School is out. The kids are home with me and we spend a lot more time together. We take vacations and learn new things and fill our nights with sleepovers and late bedtimes.

The way I feel about summer is the way I feel about life.

It's hard and stupid and amazing, sometimes all at the same time.
I can go from irrational fear to giggling in minutes. {This does not make me crazy...or maybe it does.}

Sometimes the days are extremely, painfully long while other times, they seem to pass by too quickly.

 I think that's why I've always loved Glennon from Momastery's description of life as my "messy beautiful".

Because it is both.

The sun can be shining and the birds can be singing but sometimes, everything around me feels so dark.

There are afternoons where a storm will sweep in and instead of allowing the clouds to hover over me and dim the light, I go out and dance in the rain.

 It's been amazing to be able to mix the things I'm learning in school with my every day life.

Because I used to feel so ashamed when I would have meltdowns. I used to think adults didn't do that. I used to think hard days made me weaker.

They don't.

The ability to talk about the hard stuff and allow my emotions to go to those dark places sometimes is actually a strength.
I don't often stay in the dark but it's ok to visit. In fact, visiting the dark places helps me to brighten the light places.
And if I do end up staying there for a while, that's ok too. It's ok to feel weighed down by life. Life is hard. It's ok to feel anger and sadness and fear. All of those things are valid.

 I just try and make sure that whatever emotions I'm feeling, I allow them to stay for however long it feels productive. Once those emotions become unproductive and even destructive, then I reach out to others to help me reset.

 The beauty of life is that we CAN reset. We don't have to be stuck. We have the opportunity to change if we really want to.

Among the sadness that I feel, I also feel so much joy. I feel so grateful to be alive, to be living out many of my dreams right now.

On my hard days, I try to remember the good stuff too. I try to remember that even though there seems to be a lot of bad, there is even more good.

Life won't ever be perfect, although that'd be super nice. It won't always be rainbows and sunshine and butterflies. But maybe that wouldn't be "the perfect life".

Maybe life is perfect. Because life is doing exactly what it was intended to do. Life is teaching me and pushing me to grow and allowing me the ability to feel compassion for others. Life is giving me hard days and easy days, happy memories and messy ones, and even though it doesn't always feel perfect---maybe it is. Maybe this is a perfect life.

 I guess until now, I've never really thought of it that way.

When I look back on the events in my life, the hardest ones have taught me the most. I hate saying that because my goodness, I do NOT want hard things to come my way, but I can recognize the growth within myself.

I can look back on the little girl that I was and how much love and compassion I had for other people. I know I talk about how hard I was as a kid but the truth is, I was an amazing little girl. And I'm not being sarcastic. I was often worried about other people and trying to help others. But I didn't have the knowledge or patience that I have now. I wasn't mature enough to hold my tongue when angry words were ready to spill over.

And although I'm not perfect at it now, I try really hard to be the type of person that loves others, even those who hurt my heart.

My kids and I got to have a short conversation about this today. As we were leaving church, I saw a lady whom I truly admire and I called out to her and told her she was gorgeous. As soon as we got in the car, my little girl asked why I had said that and I told her it was because this lady is one of my heroes. She may not know that I look up to her but I do. Princess asked why I like her so much and I said, "Because she is so kind to everyone around her and that is the type of person I want to be."

And it's the truth. I want to be kind and loving, patient and slow to anger. I want to see others how Heavenly Father sees them.

And maybe it sounds easy on paper but it isn't. I still find myself getting frustrated when I'm feeling misunderstood by someone. It isn't easy to hold my tongue when others are saying hurtful things.

But it's a process. In this perfectly messy life that I live, I am slowly becoming the person that I want to be.

Summer Blues

Summer is kicking my butt so far. 

The house is a sticky mess. It already feels hotter than hell outside. And my theory of being more relaxed and letting the kids stay up later has made us all a lot grumpier. 

Hmph. 

I've been trying to get into a summer rhythm. 

I have a lot of things I'm trying to recover from---pretty much all of them being emotional messes---but being out of rhythm really throws off my recovery groove. 

So far, my statistics class seems like it's going to be my easiest which is ironic because every time I've considered signing up for statistics, I put it off another semester because I've been told how hard it is. I'm hoping this means statistics is one of my "things" and that I won't end up being a failure this summer with my classes. 

ASU is calling my name in the fall and I want to prove to myself that I can handle this whole online thing even with harder classes. 

This next part is going to make me sound spoiled and for that, I'm sorry. But the truth is that I've had a cleaning lady for the past 8 months. Yup. When I started working again last August, I realized I couldn't keep up with my gym membership because it took too much time and energy to try and go after school/work every night, especially since my kids are normally in bed by 7pm. A few weeks after juggling the school/work/mom circus, my house was disgusting (quite literally) and I found a cleaning lady who could help me out for a close enough price to the price I was paying on a gym. 

Well, now that I'm home more and doing school online, I cancelled the cleaning services because I can handle all of this...right? 

Well, so far, I kind of suck at it. I mean, online schooling is still schooling and it still takes up time and energy and I'm actually working more hours and my kids aren't gone most of the day at school. 

So our kitchen floor is sticky. Our family room carpet has crumbs on it. The kids room is all sorts of disastrous. 

But we try to clean every day. We try to push forward with whatever messes we get to. 

And when I don't clean up a mess for a few days, I forgive myself---because there is a lot going on and sometimes we choose other activities over cleaning. 

They'll only be little once, right? This is their only summer at these ages and I plan on being there for as much of it as I can be. 

Along with my summer blues, I've been trying to find time for myself. Time that does not include school or work or children. 

And that is NOT easy. 

It usually involves Netflix and ice cream. Or maybe blogging or going on a bike ride or talking to my friends on the phone. 

And once in a while, I make decisions to change my hair color. 

Case in point:

 *above-before, below-after*

As hard as it is to remember "me time", I know that I need it. 

I know that I cannot just function as a mother and a student and a biller and a dance teacher. I need to function as Suzanne. 

Sometimes I forget who she is or what her purpose is because it seems like I do everything for everyone else but when I have chances to remember her alone, I am reminded of her purpose. 

Of my purpose. 

I've questioned it a lot, what my purpose in life is. And maybe it sounds odd that this blog is a part of that purpose but I've always felt like writing was my thing, my way of helping others and reaching people whom I never would've met any other way. 

I don't need a million followers, I just need the right followers. 

I just need those of you who read this to know that people go through hard things and they can come out on top. It is possible. In fact, it is necessary. 

We have a chance to live and learn while we are on this earth. We have a chance to help others, to be teachers and colleagues and friends. We have a chance to be students to the people we come in contact with. We get to learn from them. 

Everyone has these unique experiences and since we can't all experience the same things (and trust me, we probably wouldn't want to), we can learn from the experiences of others.

To me, life is all about love and learning and rising above. It is about making choices that will make a difference in this world to make it a better place for our children to live. 

That is why I talk about uncomfortable things like pornography addiction and eating disorders and failed marriage. You might think I like talking about those things but often times, I struggle with knowing what to say and how to say it. 

But because they are my experiences and I'd rather you learn from me instead of going down that path yourself, I want to talk about them. I want to open up about how hard life can be---but I never want to forget how beautiful life can be too. 

I hope you never forget it either. 

And if you do forget it, I hope you can find that beauty again. 

It will always be there. 

Because It's A Mess

Wow, you guys.
Life.
It's hard.

I'm sure this isn't news to you. It shouldn't be news to me either but apparently I keep finding my pair of rose-colored glasses and putting them back on before they're slapped off again.

My life is all sorts of brutiful (brutal+beautiful) right now.
I am loving my new work/school/co-parenting schedule. I am loving the ages of my children and the tight bond we all have.
I am not loving the messy relationships in my life or the anxiety of dating and being alone---which on most days, I've decided is just going to be my fate because dating = harder than I ever thought.

I feel confused a lot---mostly asking God why life is allowed to be so messy when I'm already a divorced mom of 2 young kids Why, after being left by my husband and left to deal with the trauma and anxiety, life isn't just perfect now.
But when I ask Him that, I almost immediately take it back because I don't want to be the victim. I don't want to make our situation look more dire than it is.
It might be hard but it isn't a life sentence.

I know life isn't just going to be perfect. I know trials don't just disqualify me from ever having hard times again (Although that'd be really awesome...).

But I struggle so much with believing I'm a good person and one of the hardest trials for me is when other people tell me, literally tell me, I'm not a good person. Because then my brain gets all confused and I'm back to second guessing and wondering how two different people can believe two totally opposite things about me.

It's a mess, really. It's a drama-filled mess that I'm trying to rise above.

But goshdarnit, rising above the hard stuff is a lot more difficult than it sounds.

Rising above is what warriors do. It is what the strongest of strong people are able to do. And am I there? Am I one of them?
I try. I try so hard to be strong but am I?

I guess the answer is yes. I guess when I write it all down, being alone and providing for two kids while going to school full time is pretty strong. But some days, it doesn't feel strong. Some days, it just feels like something I do because I've been forced to do it.
Because it's either be a single mom or never get out of bed again---and so far {most days}, I've chosen to be a mom and I've even tried to be a good mom---occasionally a great one.

But although I seem to be unbreakable so far, I feel like the messes are wearing me down a little at a time.

And I hate that.

I hate feeling like others have some sort of control over how I feel about myself. I want to be strong and confident every single day.

Because you know what? I'm just as much a daughter of God as every other woman on this earth.
End. Of. Story.

I want to polish off this blog post with some profound words but seriously, I am not there tonight. I feel like I haven't be there at all lately. Maybe someday...

Worthy and Good and a lot bit Crazy

Sometimes I go to therapy.

If you think that's a weird thing to admit, then I think you're weird for thinking that it's a weird thing for me to admit...so...booyah.
As an aspiring therapist, I'm pretty comfortable talking about the fact that sometimes I talk about my life with a therapist---actually not just "a therapist", my therapist.

Anyway, shall I move on with the point? Any day now, Suzanne.

I was working through some crap this week that's been bothering me and I've had a few realizations.
I struggle a lot {alot-alot} believing that I am a good person. Like a genuinely, deep-down, rooted firm within myself good person. I believe this is something I've always struggled with partly because of the way I was raised (Hi, mom and dad---love you both forever and ever) and partly because of the uniquely crazy individual that I am. I tend to look at every decision I make and pinpoint the greed within the motive. And when I make mistakes---oh my goodness, they get blown way out of proportion.

I only know this because a particular lady that I pay to counsel with me told me so.
And she's always right. Because if she was wrong, why would I pay her?

It's hard for me to feel like I'm blowing my mistakes out of proportion when I put so much negative focus on them.

So it's not all black and it's not all white. We are all sorts of grays.

When I make mistakes, I categorize myself in the darkest of the grays. I have a hard time seeing my goodness. All of my other mistakes come into clear focus and everything else just looks like a fuzzy mess.

There are blips in my life where I can remember being an intensely confident woman but this doesn't usually last long periods of time. For the most part, I'm questioning myself and trying to counteract all of my imperfections with smiles, a cheerful attitude, and any little acts of service I can get my hands on.

It's weird---making myself crazy to try and prove to myself that I'm a good person. Lately I've wondered what in the heck the point of this is.
I either need to believe it or not believe it.

So I'm choosing this week to believe it. 

Obviously, this can't mean I've been perfect---I haven't---but it means that when I make mistakes, I brush them off and focus on the good. I focus more on what's inside than on my outward choices.

I know who I am. I know who I'm striving to be. That should count for a great deal of "who is Suzanne" and I don't know why I haven't allowed it to play a bigger role than it has.

But this week, I am. This week, I am being brave. I am not over-thinking my friendships or obsessing over what people think of me. I am not putting myself down or thinking the worst.

This is hard for me. Because I have compulsive thoughts a lot and I often feel like they define who I am.

Because good people can't have bad thoughts.

But that just isn't true.

The lady that I pay told me so...and she's always right.

So while I'm soul-searching and trying to gain confidence on my own, I'm choosing to believe her.

In the meantime, you can shake your head at my redundancy. I know I've talked about all of this before and the truth is, I'll probably talk about it again.

We all have our crap---today this is mine.