I heart NH

Once at a gas station in New York or New Jersey (I can't remember where), the attendant filling our tank noticed our license plate and quipped, "New-where? Is that in Canada or something?" As if.

In college, I used to get comments about the state motto plastered boldly on my license plate, "Live Free or Die." "What kind of motto is that?" my friends would ask, implying, of course, that I came from a lawless, backwards place of Birkenstock clad, tie-died wearing woodsmen. Well then. Can I help it if the Birkenstocks-with-ski socks trend never made it south of the state line? or west or north, for that matter?

Sometimes I forget how unique my home state is, until Mark happens to point out a few things.  Like the signage we've been noticing on the two lane road that takes us to my hometown.  

that says grass, by the way

Or the fact that, while I was concerned I didn't have the proper attire to wear to an Alison Krauss concert last night, I needn't have worried. We saw denim overall shorts, maxi dresses with Teva sandals, lots and lots of LL Bean-style outdoor apparel and Birks. Everyone except me was wearing sensible shoes for tromping through pouring rain and sitting under an outdoor pavilion.  Though I might have laughed at her under other circumstances, I thought the woman with the sneakers that looked like webbed rubber feet was smartest in her choice of footwear. 

What I love most is that this isn't just haphazard style--it's intentional.  Because after work, you might want to go hike the mountain in your backyard or drop by the lake for an impromptu cookout with friends, or skip out of work early and hit the slopes for a few hours of skiing before the winter sun drops behind the horizon.  How on earth could you do any of that in these?

That's what I thought.

So while New Hampshirites might appear a little out of touch if they ever do decide to cross the state line (which they don't very often, because they live in..ahem...Vacationland), the image works just fine close to home.

I think it's time to embrace my roots a little more!  Who cares if recycled tires weren't meant to be worn on feet? Or that my hair looks more like I churned it up with a hand mixer than brushed it with a comb?  So what if my kids picked out their own outfits and are wearing every color of the rainbow with every imaginable pattern?  And who cares if they get the best of the best of everything?

Can I nurture their souls the way the landscape of my home state nurtures mine every time I return to it?  Is the landscape of their little world inviting and pleasant and peaceful? Not always.  But maybe if I woke up imagining the view from their eyes, I wouldn't worry over the particulars quite as much.  Instead, I'd wake up, unkempt, sleepy-eyed, and run for the swings. I'd eat dessert before lunch and skip dinner altogether. I'd watch more sunsets, take more hikes, let the house get messy, and scoop wiggly little bodies into more bear hugs.

I keep a quote on my fridge by author and seasoned mom Katrina Kenison.  Kenison, who lives in NH, wrote Mitten Strings for God when her two boys were young. It's a great little book about slowing down in our whirlwind society and doing less so that we can experience more, so that we can live more fully the lives we have been given. She writes, "We are the windows through which our children first see the world.  Let us be conscious of the view."  I love her Thoreau-like take on motherhood.  It's the call to live deliberately even if we look crazy to everyone else.  It's the call to live by example, to be what we want our children to embrace. Rarely does this look cool by appearances to anyone else. But I should probably face this fact sooner than later: The landscape of motherhood is far from tidy.

So I'm going to work on this one. I'm going to shush the little type A voice in my head that says I have to have it all together all the time.  It's not easy and I probably won't look good doing it, but I'm sure the results will be rewarding. I'll let you know how it goes.