The Stories We Tell Ourselves
A few weeks ago, I wrote about the chaos of May—what some call Maycember—and how our family barreled out of school and straight into summer. What I didn’t share then was what came next.
Just two days after school ended, we jetted off to Colorado for a quick family trip, and when we returned, Jim and I were each staring down demanding weeks. He was preparing for a conference in Austin where he’d be speaking for several days. I was headed to the United Way Worldwide conference in Orlando, then flying straight to Boston to see my niece graduate (a beautiful milestone, Aunt Emy and Noni wouldn’t miss!)
Which meant this: our kids would be with grandmas. Jim and I would be working, traveling, tag-teaming logistics, and feeling a little bit torn.
A Familiar Story
The story I started to tell myself was one I’ve told before: I’m gone too much. I’m not there enough. We’re shipping our kids off just to make everything work. I had that creeping, familiar guilt tugging at me—maybe you know the one.
But then, sitting in the audience at the United Way conference, I heard keynote speaker Kindra Hall share a story that stopped me in my tracks.
She spoke of her own working-mom guilt when her kids were young—how she used to tell herself she was failing them by traveling. Until she realized: that story wasn’t true. What was true was that she was living her purpose, doing meaningful work, and modeling strength, creativity, and love for her kids.
The only thing that changed was the story she chose to tell herself.
I’ve since added her book, “Choose Your Story, Change Your Life" to my Audible list!
A Different Lens
That moment cracked something open in me.
Because the truth is: the story I was telling myself about my absence wasn’t the full story. It wasn’t even the best story.
When I zoomed out—when I softened the lens—what I saw was something beautiful.
Owen was in Buenva Vista, Colorado with his cousin Paxton—his summertime soulmate—spending two full weeks surrounded by the Collegiate Peaks, hot springs, archery, backyard badminton, kayaking, and mile-long treks to GMom’s house just because they could. He spent a whole day cooking lasagna with her, step-by-step. He had one-on-one time with GMom that he’ll remember forever.
He also got to fish the Arkansas River with Jason—who he adores—and caught a brown trout (a very proud moment). And when I asked him what his favorite part of the trip was, aside from lasagna-making, he lit up talking about Mallory pacing the boys on a two-mile mountain run. She’s a running coach, so of course she made it fun, and of course she kept pace—because that’s what great coaches and great aunts do.
Meanwhile, Vivian had her own kind of magic.
She spent the week with her grandmother Deedee, who turned 80 on June 2! A couple days before the trip, it dawned on me that Viv would be with her on that special birthday, and we had the best idea: a “birthday in a bag.” Vivian and Jim packed it up with cake mix, sprinkles, icing, 8-0 candles, and party hats. It was festive, thoughtful and she was 100% in!
That week, instead of feeling left behind, Vivian felt excited. Important. Included. She was there to celebrate Deedee—and that gift of presence was mutual. Jim kept saying how the three of them—Vivian, Aunt Mel, and Deedee—had their own cozy little roommate vibe going. Three generations: eight, fifty, eighty. Watching movies, making dinner, laughing at inside jokes.
And the best part? Deedee taught her how to sew.
They picked out fabric on Monday, chose a pattern, and spent the week bringing it to life. Vivian made 90% of it herself—a purple prairie-style skirt and top that she wore with so much pride. She’ll remember that outfit, and that week, forever.
A Beautiful Truth
Meanwhile, Jim and I were out in the world doing work that matters—him presenting on employment law, me representing Sunny and sharing our mission of building meaningful connection. I was filled up by the energy of that week. Inspired by the stories I heard. Certain that I was right where I was supposed to be.
And when I look back now, I don’t see a week of absence.
I see a week full of richness. Full of purpose. Full of love.
Because it really is about the story we tell ourselves.
And this one? This is a story I’m proud to live—and proud for my children to witness.
