Life as I know it is a mixture of chaos, noise, laughter – the kind that makes your guts hurt and brings tears to your eyes. Life as I know it is a constant search for understanding, knowledge and an answer to the question ‘what is the meaning of my life.’ Life as I know it is headaches, back-aches, stomach aches and snotty noses; hand-made macaroni-strung-on-yarn necklaces, crumpled cards with I love you scrawled across in the front in layers of glue and glitter. Life as I know it is constantly trying to make sense of the world around me, looking for the humor in even the most dismal of events and being thankful for the many blessings I am humbled to have. Life as I know it is filled with love in all shapes, sizes, varieties and colors, the soul warming comfort of friendship and endless supplies of chocolate. Life as I know it is a messy desk, sorted scraps of papers with phone numbers and doodles and to do lists; bookshelves overflowing with literary favorites, read and re-read, dime-store pocket novels that have thoroughly entertained me on a summer’s day and books I have scheduled to read when the opportunity arises.

Life as I know it began in Miami Beach, Florida and now unfolds in Easley, South Carolina. It has been a prolonged culture shock and adjustment. Life as I know it defines me – in my part of the world – as an Obama-supporting-socialist-liberal in a red sea of Über-conservative, sometimes fundamental Republicans. It finds me covering local government for the paper, listening to factions of tea baggers who sincerely believe that pedestrian walking and bicycling trails are, at their core, big-brother government conspiracies to rid the world of automobiles forcing individuals to use mass transit systems. Life as I know it has me sitting in these meetings wondering what Freud might say if he were sitting next to me in the press gallery.

Life as I know it involves a rather unorthodox family dynamic that most outsiders find bizarre. It is a severely OCD ex-husband who takes it upon himself to Al-gonize the girls’ DVDs – sorted by release dates, Disney studios and whatever other schemas seem rational and reasonable in his brain.     

Life as I know it is a work in progress, constant emotional and spiritual growing pains that make me a better human being, cups of strong, industrial-strength-elite-Kenyan-runner coffee that jump start my day with a familiar feeling of love nothing else can replicate. Life as I know it is plagued with guilt and not-good-enoughs and what-ifs? Life as I know it overflows with piles of laundry that never disappear no matter what my water bill might indicate, stress-inducing deadlines forever forcing me to race and beat time, and a big bumbling 180lb dog who insists that his slobbery kisses are all I need when I am sad. Life as I know it revolves around my two daughters whose creativity, humor and stubbornness are like looking into a mirror, daughters whose rapid growth scares the hell out of me at each turn because the responsibility for their well-rounded spiritual, physical and emotional development seems to rest squarely on my shoulders. Life as I know it is a series of marathon completed triumphs, never-giving up persistence and diligence, and throwing in the towel when I know I have been beat. I want life as I know it to be filled with unexpected kindness, modern day miracles and the triumph of love against even the most insurmountable of odds. I want life as I know it to be more organized, relaxed and assured. I want life as I know it to embrace all my mistakes instead of berating my failures, to be firm and steadfast in my faith such that I can let go of my control-freakish tendencies, to be able to enjoy the rides and focus less on the destinations.

Life as I know it has ups and it has downs and so much in-between that I wish I could package, sell it and use the money to pay off all my student loan debt. The bottom line, however, is this: life as I know it is pretty amazing and I wouldn’t trade mine for anyone else’s. I stopped making New Year’s resolutions quite a while ago because I finally realized that being both impatient and a perfectionist does not lend itself well to resolutions. With age, and, I would like to think, wisdom, I have truly begun to look at myself as a work in progress. Although I loathed the bureaucracy of my job in substance abuse counseling, I learned a great deal from the addicts going through the recovery process. Taking life one day at a time makes sense – especially when we believe that God will never give us more than we can handle in any given day. Relying on a Higher Power – be it God, Buddha, Trees or the Sun – is essential to maintaining ones sanity in a world that is so seemingly insane sometimes. Lives are a journey and we are only on this earth for a short period of time. Why not make the most of it?

There are things about myself that I would like to change – especially in relationship to the way I so harshly judge myself and the way I have a tendency to look at things from the negative before the positive. Thus, I am a work in progress. I can see measurable growth in these areas over the last year, and while I might not have achieved perfection, my success lies in the fact that I refuse to give up trying. On that note, in 2011 I will cheer even louder for the underdog, I will hope harder for the impossible, I will believe ever more strongly in the possibility of miracles. I will be kinder to myself. I will create more opportunities to tell the people I love just how much I love them. I will offer smiles to those in need. I will continue to strengthen my faith and develop a closer relationship to my Higher Power because I need this in my life. Faith, Hope and Love – these are the foundation upon which I will continue to build a stronger me this year. I hypothesize that a stronger, healthier me can only equal even better relationships with the people I love, a better mother to my amazing girls that I adore beyond words, a better writer, a better everything.

Whatever your hopes, dreams or resolutions for the New Year might be, work toward them one day at a time. Don’t get over-whelmed because Rome, as they say, was not built in a day. Be patient with yourself and others. And never, never, never give up. Happy New Year 2011.                                                                                                                      

My alarm clock is set to go off at 5:30 every morning – even on the weekends – and unless I am ill, I get up when the buzzer goes off. If, like me, you have small children, then you will understand I am not masochistic; getting up at the crack of dawn is the only time I will have what resembles peace and quiet for the rest of the day. As a younger adult (pre-children), I always thought it somewhat obscene that my Mom would get up so early in the morning when nothing in the world required her to do so. Now I understand completely and I relish my morning quiet.

Each morning I settle into my solace with a hot cup of Kenyan-elite-runner-strength coffee (and while I am neither Kenyan nor an elite runner, I know what the stuff tastes like … but that is another story for another column). When I am on my A-game, I will set my fancy-schmancy coffee pot the night before so that I wake up not only to a hot brewed pot of coffee deliciousness, but also to the rich aroma those amazing little beans exude. Once my coffee is fixed – for me it is the perfect harmony of cream and coffee – the color of liquid toffee – I savor that first sip and melt into it like a big fuzzy hug.

I listen. It is quiet. This is Nee-Cole time. Time to escape into thought without being questioned about my thoughts. Time to write without having to solve an argument mid-thought or find missing Kitty, Froggy-My or yesterday’s mail. The stillness is mine to enjoy, and enjoy it I do. Time to have conversations with God – out-loud, one-on-one – like he is sitting in the chair next to me. Sometimes it is my time to do absolutely nothing at all but slowly sip my coffee without feeling guilty for not being productive (that comes later in the day).

Now that it is winter, I like to take my coffee outside in the morning. When I step out on our side entrance, I have a view of the side of my neighbor’s house separated from us by our concrete carport and a row of sinewy Bradford Pear trees. There is something very calming about the pre-dawn darkness coupled with the winter chill I feel on my nose, hands and feet. Most mornings, if I am lucky, I catch a glimpse of the moon and a few radiant stars peeking at me through the barren branches of the pear trees. It occurred to me last week that I am playing peek-a-boo with the moon only because it is winter and all of the leaves have died and fallen from the Bradfords’ branches.

I know I have related this before, but here I go again: growing up in Miami, I did not experience a change of seasons. The tropical climate of southern Florida allowed the palm, mango and avocado trees to keep their foliage year round. This is why, eleven years later, I am still captivated by the change of seasons I feel blessed to experience each year. It is, in the true sense of the word, awesome.

With the exception of a few pines, the trees in my neighborhood are an exposed network of intricately woven limbs and branches reaching heaven ward awaiting their spring rebirth. At the risk of sounding macabre, there is a certain graceful beauty about winter death. The trees across my driveway provide a startling framework through which I am able to see the moon, the stars and the flaming hues of orange and pink as the sun rises each morning.

Seasonally speaking, winter has always been associated with death – both literally and metaphorically. In this context, it is understandable that many people suffer depression in the winter months when it is cold and there is more darkness than daylight. Death, however, is not a bad thing. Without death in the winter, we would not be able to witness and appreciate the glorious rebirth of spring – swollen buds preparing to burst forth with new life. Our lives operate in similar natural cycles. Careers, friendships, relationships – sometimes they metaphorically wither and grow dormant – slowly ebbing out of our lives, and for many of us, there is a time that we grieve these losses. Then when we least expect it, we find that we have grown into a new career, blossomed into a new friendship or cultivated a new relationship. As the saying goes, “when one door closes, another one opens.”

Life is an ever evolving process. Change truly is a good thing. Without winter, we wouldn’t appreciate spring. Without sorrow, happiness wouldn’t feel so spectacular! If you should find yourself in a time of winter – when things seem dreary or bleak – enjoy the glowing moon and stars that you can see so well only because there are not leaves obstructing the quiet view. Settle in to the serenity of the winter morning knowing that, in no time at all, the seasons are going to shift and spring is waiting just around the corner pregnant with possibilities all waiting to burst forth and blossom.

Last week my husband was out of town on business. In his absence, Em, Ella, Grandma and I were busy little elves transforming our home into a magical Christmas wonderland to surprise him upon his return. We set up a little tree in the kitchen, and Ella (my 5 year old) decided that it was our “love tree.”

Ella loves to draw. She scours my craft room for buttons and stickers, glue sticks and glitter, and she will spend hours creating pictures and cards for her school friends and us. When my husband goes out of town on business it is a guarantee that he will return to a handful of homemade delights – glittery rainbows, cute-as-a-button kitties or more abstract, Picasso inspired paintings.

I was hanging up some final decorations and Ella decided she was going to arrange her pictures and cards, hand crafted for her Daddy, beneath the love tree. After she had her gifts satisfactorily situated under the tree, she asked “Mommy, does love grow?”

Does love grow? It took me a minute to register the profundity of her question. Big brown eyes staring in my direction, Ella waited for an answer from me, and these days a simple ‘yes’ does not make the grade. Inevitably it would be followed by a ‘how’ and a ‘why’ until she was content with my answer. And so it goes that my “of course love grows” response was quickly followed by a “how?” from Ella. That kid doesn’t miss a beat!

Trying to explain relationship or romantic love was more than I was ready to tackle, so I started with a tree analogy. People, I began, plant trees because they love nature and they love the earth. God loves all living things, so he sends rain and sunshine to help the tree grow tall and sturdy with roots deep in the ground. Every year the tree grows a little bit bigger because God and the person who planted it care for and tend to it. All the love that goes into the tree makes it strong, and because the tree is so full of love, it has to give some away. The tree gives homes to birds and squirrels as a way of sharing the love it has received.

Christmas, I continued to explain, exists because of love. Many people, myself included, believe that God loved us so much that he gave us Jesus, who was born on Christmas. That is the real reason we celebrate at this time of year.

Ella appeared to be contemplating my answer and I thought this was a good sign. I went back to hanging up glittery snowmen. “Mommy,” she asks, “what about people? Does love grow in people too?”

My response went something like this --- When you and your sister were in my tummy, I was so excited that you were coming. I loved you and Em before I could even see you. On the days you were born, when I finally got to hold you and snuggle you and kiss you, my heart was so full of love that I thought it would explode (not really, Ella!). I loved you more that I thought was possible. Every day I love you and your sister more than I did the day before. The more you two grow and change, the greater my love grows.

“Even when we’re bad and we get in trouble?” she asks.

“Yes. Even when you are bad and get into trouble,” I reply. “There is nothing you or Em could ever do that would make me not love you.” With that she said, “I love you Mommy. I’m going to go play Barbie.” Up the stairs she went.

I stood in the same spot and continued to ponder Ella’s question. Love grows – of this I am certain. Love also changes shape and form. It takes on so many different forms – taking one from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. Love can be given away freely, and it can also be consumed to the point of depletion. It has the power to renew and transform. Love is truly amazing, and I imagine that while everyone has a different experience with love, we are simultaneously all connected by the experience of love itself. Like “if,” L-O-V-E is a little word into which an abundance of meaning is packaged. When it grows and thrives, love is a truly awesome thing.  

Here’s to a Christmas season abundant with love that grows deeper and stronger with each passing day!

I am a reality TV junkie. As cliché a show as it might be by now, The Biggest Loser tops the list as my all time favorite. Each week I find inspiration in the achievements and transformations of the individual contestants, and it doesn’t hurt that I adore Bob Harper. Bravo also airs several other ‘reality’ based shows that I routinely follow: Millionaire Matchmaker, The Real Housewives of Atlanta, New York and New Jersey (I’ve never gotten into any of the California based series). Mindless entertainment is all that I want and usually what I get when I watch any number of these shows.

While I am somewhat ashamed to admit it, the most recent reality wonder that has sparked my interest is MTV’s 16 and Pregnant. Let me explain. I occasionally check out MTV to keep my finger on the pulse of adolescent pop-culture. Em and Ella are nowhere near old enough to watch MTV; however, as a parent I want to keep current so that I know what else is “out there” that might be contrary to the values I instill in my children. It was during one of my quests for MTV enlightenment that I stumbled across the show 16 and Pregnant and I was immediately horrified that any network would promote teenage pregnancy.

Watching the show was like approaching the scene of a horrible automobile accident. I found that I could not look away. The longer I watched, the more incensed I became – yet I found myself thinking that the show, in and of itself, offers an excellent argument for abstinence or birth control. About every other commercial break, a PSA announces “it takes two people to get pregnant but only one person to prevent it.” Rather than championing the “coolness” of teenage pregnancy, 16 and Pregnant actually preaches prevention. If teens actually follow this show on MTV, why is teenage pregnancy rampant in our age of enlightenment and medical advancement?

Teenagers are, you guessed it, teenagers! Think back to the days when you were in your teens? I can well remember thinking that I knew it all – that after a mere 16, 17, 18 years on the planet I had life figured out and somehow my poor mother was clueless. This is the way teens think. In their hormonally haywired minds, the consequences that result from any given behavior are going to be different for each of them: The ‘real life’ teens on the show that get pregnant and give birth, that subsequently struggle to complete their educations or support themselves financially – the average teen thinks “that isn’t going to happen to me.”

Having a baby is serious business! When I had my children, my life as I knew it ended. Certainly it ended in the most amazing of ways because I was ready and wanted to have children. I had completed my education, had a full-time job and the benefits that go with it. I had a home I could afford and I had a husband. In spite of this, no one could possibly prepare me for the amount of responsibility that comes with having children. Children are wonderfully expensive. Babies are completely dependent little beings who require someone to take care of all their needs, which, at first, they can only commutate through crying and screaming.

Parenting requires a certain level of absolute selflessness, and teenagers are the definition of self-absorption. 16 and Pregnant accurately documents the difficulties associated with being a teen parent. It should send an eye-opening and alarming message to sexually active teens. I know it scares the heck out of me as a parent. As a mom, it makes me think about what I don’t want for either or my daughters. Within reason, I want them to enjoy their youth because life goes by so quickly. One day I was in college and in no time at all I had a ‘real’ job and ‘real’ bills that required payment. I cannot fathom how difficult it must be, as a teenager, to make the transition from care-free adolescent to responsible parent in nine months time. That is a lot of growing up to do. Sadly, even though they have babies, many teen parents do not possess the maturity or level of responsibility this job entails thus the cycle perpetuates itself.

If you are a parent and you’ve never seen this show, I highly recommend it. Not only does it offer food for thought, it can also be a great starting point for a conversation with your teenager. While this might not be a solution for the problem of teenage pregnancy, it might be a small step in the right direction.