I Needed an Outlet, So Here We Are

This blog exists because I need somewhere to put the chaos—parenting, injuries, fear, laughter, grief, and everything in between. Life feels loud right now, and this is where I’m setting it down.

I grew up in the rolling hills of Vermont and moved to Colorado at 18 for college. I followed in my mother and one of my brothers' footsteps to Durango. I moved across the country in hopes of finding myself and who I wanted to be as a person. Somewhere between the mountains of Colorado and the deserts of the Southwest, I got hooked and never left.

I’ll always be a Vermonter at heart, even though I’ve now lived in Colorado longer than in Vermont. I might technically be a local, depending on whom you ask. I’ve called Durango home for 25 years; yes, I’m only 29, and no, I don’t understand the math either. Let’s not dwell on it.

My husband, Brackett, and I are raising three groms with our goal to raise good humans; kids who respect others, nature, and themselves.

Simple in theory. Absolutely feral in practice.

Parenting is fucking hard. They say if it’s easy, you’re doing it wrong. I don’t know who “they” are, but they clearly have kids. Our children are kind, thoughtful, and genuinely good kids… who also argue daily like it’s their full-time job. Meanwhile, I’m earning some very distinguished gray highlights, which is nature’s way of reminding me I’m doing my best.

I’m starting this blog because I need an outlet. I’m an active person by nature, and my usual coping mechanisms look a lot like ice hockey and skiing in the winter, and kayaking, rafting, and biking all summer long. Movement is how I process stress. It’s how I stay sane amidst the chaos.

For the past few months, though, I’ve been sidelined with a right knee injury that no medical professional seems particularly motivated to solve. I’ve done the research. I know what’s likely going on. But since I don’t have an MD after my name, my opinions are apparently adorable… and irrelevant.

The irony? I actually do have years of knee-injury experience, mostly because I already destroyed my left knee. This one was supposed to be the “good” knee. So now I’m the proud owner of two bad knees and a growing sense of impatience. My current mission is to convince my doctor that action is required sooner rather than later. Stay tuned for that saga.

And because life apparently believes in piling it on, there’s more. Along with daily knee pain, our oldest son is scheduled for heart surgery in March to repair a congenital defect we didn’t even know existed until his eight-year checkup. For nearly two years, we were given vague answers and told to “wait and see.” Waiting is not my strength. I pushed for more testing, more imaging, more clarity — anything that would give us a real picture instead of guesses. Finally, in December 2025, we got answers.

I am scared. I am anxious. And I am deeply grateful all at the same time.

The silver lining is that his heart can be fixed, and we know many families don’t get that kind of outcome. We’re thankful for both the diagnosis and the solution.

Doctors have told us that ASD closures are routine; that surgeons handle them the way pediatricians handle diaper rash. They do it all the time. They know exactly what they’re doing. It’s “no big deal.”

But let’s be honest: when it’s your kid going into open-heart surgery, it’s a very big fucking deal.

So yeah. I need an outlet.

I’ll write about advocating for your own and your kids’ healthcare, raising outdoor kids, navigating kid activities, attempting work–life balance, and whatever chaos happens to be unfolding that week. I’ll be honest, real, and occasionally inappropriate. If you don’t like what I have to say, feel free to unfollow and find something boring and lame instead.

Thanks for being here. I hope you relate, laugh, learn something from my mistakes, and stick around for the beautifully messy ride that is my life with kids.