In Virginia, a place that I used to call home, schools always began after Labor Day. The weather was getting cooler, tryouts for extracurricular activities were starting, and we were back at one of our favorite places, school. My friends and I loved school. For some reason, schoolwork never seemed very challenging, but it also wasn’t interesting. As a teenager, I mainly loved sports and socializing, but something about that starting over again that made it a new kind of fun; the anticipation and excitement was an adrenaline rush.
I loved school, but becoming a teacher was probably a surprise to most of my former teachers; however, that decision, along with coaching track and cross country, became the best decision that I hadn’t planned. I taught and coached in Virginia for five years, but I got married, found a new job, and moved to South Carolina, just in time for my next fresh start.
In Charleston, the leaves were turning brown and the humid air seeped through my dress shirt, but I enjoyed a new challenge and helping young minds find an intrinsic love for learning. I learned something new each year of teaching and coaching about myself, my students, and colleagues. I had everything (so I thought). My team teacher and I had the best relationship and were making huge strides with our challenging yet super fun kiddos. Principal Beckham was top notch. On the cross country course we brought home state championships and set state records on the track. My furry babies, husband, and I went on hiking adventures and swims in the ocean
, our new home.
The teams of girls I coached were motivated group of warriors, and I initially loved the camaraderie, the sweaty conditioning sessions at 7 a.m. all summer long, and even the week-long camps in the mountains; all this occurring before school even started.
Since my freshman year of high school, I had school every day, practice afterward, training and camps all summer, and then it started again. This cycle continued as I began teaching and coaching at age 22. As an 11th grade English teacher, I graded research papers on the bus or sitting at the beach on the weekend and taught summer school a few times. My husband and I had some fun hiking adventures and travels one week out of the summer and on holiday, but I never stopped to breathe with few weekends at home.
If someone had told me two years ago that I would no longer be teaching and coaching, I would never have believed them. In fact, I might have yelled adamantly that they must not know me very well. I would have never dreamed of giving up everything that defined so much of my life. When my Macey was born, the changes were gradual, and then they were extreme. Her tiny little body and funny jerky movements were special, recorded, captured and framed. When her eyes finally found mine, the deepest and most absolute reality of love took over.
Maternity leave turned 
into a year off, and then another, and another fresh start. I still stroller run and do the things I love, but I stay at home with the sweet, sly, sometimes shy, tantrumming toddler whom I love more than I am humanly possible to put into words.
Stay-at-home is also a bit misleading as I am rarely at home unless it is at nap, dinner, or bed times. We get to tackle new adventures together, discover everything for the first time, and we both grow and learn every single day. Above all, we get in as many hugs, kisses, and cuddles as possible. While this experience is literally once in a lifetime, I cannot explain the void. What is missing? My routine? The team? My students? It is certainly easier to look back with nostalgia when removed from the situation.
So this summer when I heard my teacher friends’ pep-talks prepping for the next school year or saw my former runners graduate with accolades and travel around the world, I decided to join them (in spirit). I will have new goals for myself this fall. Macey will continue to join me in my fitness challenge with her stroller breakfast, and I will line up traveling experiences for her. I will create goals for us in learning and growing together and discover a new look at nature through the eyes of a toddler.
When I researched the words fresh and start, I felt there was something lacking in its definition for my particular goals. So ultimately I arrived at this: fresh refers to things that have a new feel to it, while original refers to things that are innovative. I love the new feel of life (most of the time), and originality and creativity is how my brain thrives, especially with a toddler. In most situations, the sequel, prequel and remake are usually not as good as the original. I hope that this remix is the best mix for the fresh, original me.
Any fresh-start tips for new mommies redefining themselves? Please share!
