Carmichael vs Beale


Let me begin by stating very clearly, that I love being Mr. Beale.  I have loved it for the last 7 years, and I will continue to love it for the rest of my life.

Sometimes though, I catch myself doodling my signature with my maiden name.  I can’t quite put my finger on why.

I signed that name for so long.  Everyone in my hometown knew me by it.  It was who I was for the first 19 years of my life.

Zoey Carmichael was a different person than Zoey Beale.  She was single, she was a workaholic.  She was proud, a little selfish, extremely impulsive, a dreamer, and a ride or die type of best friend.  She had the worst potty mouth.  She played volleyball and softball.  She sang solos in choir concerts.  Her dance moves had once been described as similar to ‘a stripper with ADD’.
Zoey Carmichael was Sami and Sabrina Carmichael’s sister.
Fast forward post marriage and babies.
Zoey Beale is a wife and mother.  By day she changes diapers, packs lunches, kisses boo boos, goes to work, brews a lot of coffee, makes lists ontop of lists..and by night she writes.  She reads her bible, furiously scribbles in her journal, and she worries way too much.  Her hips swing the way they use to when she tries to dance.  Zoey Beale has mom hips.  She still loves her friends dearly, but is no longer able to drop everything on a whim to be there for them like she use to be.
Zoey Beale?
Is she related to those Carmichael girls?
The thing is, I don’t like one Zoey more than the other.  Instead of viewing these two identities as separate, I prefer to see Zoey Beale as the grown ass woman version of Zoey Carmichael.
I have managed to hang on to a ton of qualities and quirks that Miss Carmichael carried.  Obviously I still have that potty mouth.  I’m still a dreamer, impulsive, and will unfortunately be forever clumsy.  But I am so much smarter now, and I like that I am a little less selfish than I once was (being responsible to keep a couple tiny humans alive will do that to you I suppose.)
I still have a couple of old high school shirts with CARMICHAEL written across the back.  I will cherish those forever, and remember my glory days every time I wear them.  But then, I look at my wedding band and feel that these glory days are just as important, and bring to the surface the same type of pride in my heart.  I am now simultaneously my husband’s wife, AND a Carmichael sister.  Talk about a win-win.

Father’s Day Shoutout 2018

I missed a Father’s Day shoutout because I wanted it done properly.

This day in target was hell.  We scouted out this awesome cart in the hopes that the kids would be amused enough to SIT the entire time.

That was cute.

Brayden was obsessed with all the Pokémon items the store had on display, and made it known.  Nova screamed until we let her out, where she proceeded to run through the aisles growling like the hulk, and climbing on top of all the shelves like a tiny Godzilla.

After 20 minutes of dirty looks from the other customers as well as making little to no progress on our shopping voyage, we decided that you would take the kids outside to the car and I would finish the grocery shopping.

So THEN I made a spectacle of my own.  Ramming into everything under the sun.  Because that cart is ridiculously oversized.  And continuing to get dirty looks from the other customers because they were probably wondering WHY I even had a cart specially designed for kids, without any kids in it??

I’m so grateful that you are who I get to create these memories with.

The level of father you are can be deciphered with a peek at the way our kids light up when you get home from work.  No matter what job you have had throughout the years, it’s typical for you to come home either exhausted, covered in grease/dirt, sunburnt as all get out, or a mixture of all three.  And yet the first thing on your agenda is to have yourself a proper tickle fight with the kids.

I am so lucky to have you as my team mate.  Many days you do more than your fair share of the workload.  Not to mention your patience becomes increasingly impressive every year.  The way you find creative ways to help Brayden learn something new makes my heart warm and fuzzy.  You are involved. You are setting an amazing example.  And you are so damn appreciated.  

Happy belated Father’s Day to the love of my life and my biggest supporter.

P.S. You just came into my office (/closet) and plopped a quesadilla on my desk.  And you are appreciated for that as well, good sir.

I Am



I am.

These two little words will shape your entire world if you let them. Our mind eventually believes what we tell it. Especially when we tell it something repeatedly. That’s why affirmations are such a powerful tool in creating the life you want, and the life you deserve.

When we declare something to be true, (even if it isn’t) the act of holding the vision in our mind’s eye is something that accelerates our feelings of it coming true. And even if the words we declare never become true, it can still be a healthy exercise to feel them.

I read somewhere that the process of planning a vacation stimulates our senses of being on that vacation- almost as much as actually going on said vacation.


I am so many things to so many people.

I am a Mother, Wife, Sister, Daughter, Friend.

I am a writer, dreamer, dancer and pretend cook.

I am happy, healthy, harmonious, joyful, and loving.

I am clumsy, shy, and simultaneously impulsive and cautious.

I am more than these words that I have used to define myself.

I am…whatever I choose to be.

You GO Glenn Coco!

meandbAs women, we all play so many roles. Juggling appointments, housework, school work, work work, finances, social events….all of it ONTOP of daily to do’s.

We all know that friendships change after we start having families of our own, we can’t always be there for each other like we use to be, or like we wish we could.

Sometimes I worry about my mom friends. Simply because I know, that we are all struggling in our own silent ways. Just trying to get from one day to the next, keeping everyone alive and thriving, and I guess I worry that some of us may be falling through the cracks.

With this being said, to ALL my sistas!!! To the mamas, and the non-mamas, to the ones I have managed to keep in touch with, and the ones whom I have only ever interacted with on social media, the friends who I use to talk to DAILY, but currently am lucky to meet up with once every couple years.

I am always rooting for you.

I love seeing your accomplishments! I love seeing your children growing into tiny yous. I love seeing you graduating from school and getting great jobs. I love seeing you practice your talents, and achieving goals.

I often find myself scrolling through my feeds and thinking, DAMN GIRL. YASSS HONEY. YOU GO GLEN COCO… I am blessed to have the friendships and support from all the people I have met throughout the years. And thankful that social media allows me to cheer you all on from afar.

While I would have loved to shoot you each individual texts telling each of you how amazing you are & how much I miss you, I am currently up to my elbows in dirty diapers and laundry- so I hope this broad message reaches you, and gives you some kind of virtual high five, because y’all deserve it. WHO RUN THE WORLD? GIRLS.

Why I Write


Anyone who knows me, knows that I write. Writing papers for my english classes was literally always a breeze for me. I have written for as long as I can remember. Songs about my adolescent heartbreak (just call me, Taylor Swift), poems about abuse, deep thoughts on how to make this world a brighter place, prayers to bring order to my chaotic life, and about a trillion other trivial things. Up until these last couple of months, I wrote purely for myself. Now, I write to you!…and you, and you.

Growing up, most of us get a ‘diary’ at some point or another. My grandma bought me one for every occasion, holiday, and sometimes, for no reason at all. With so many pretty designs on the covers, who can resist buying 3 more before you even fill one half-way up! I was the coolest girl on my country block when I received my journal with the voice recognition passcode lock when I was 10. I had it for all of two days before I realized that it wasn’t all that high tech. My youngest sister had been able to hack into it by overhearing my password, and apparently her voice sounded so much like mine, (or it was just so cheaply made) that she was able to read my diary.

I have always been drawn to the office supply section of all department stores. Pens, paper, binders, folders, organizers, planners, trapper-keepers, and journals galore! I could hang out in that section for literally hours. Something about untouched, brand new, beautiful stationary just gets me goin’.

I began to regularly write in my journals at the age of 12. I started each entry with ‘dear diary,’ and then went on to apologize to it that it had been 3 whole days since I last wrote to it (I was just a busy gal). My entries evolved from childish, green, undeveloped thoughts, to deep philosophical ones. The older I got, the more life I experienced, the more pain I went through, the deeper my writing became.

By the time I was 17, I had more than 10 full journals filled out. For reasons I won’t go into detail about, that year I felt compelled to burn every single one in a bonfire we were having in our backyard. One by one I tossed them into the fire, and as the corners started to peel back and melt, with my poking stick I quickly pulled page by page into the flames, catching glances of the paragraphs I had written as I went. It was like catching fleeting glimpses into very detailed moments of the past 5 years of my life, and then poof, I only had my memories to hold onto.

After that, it became my ritual to burn my journals after I filled them out. It became my sort of therapy. It wasn’t until I became pregnant that I began to hold onto my memories again. Knowing I had a life growing inside of me, I felt if there was ever a time to start really holding onto every memory, it was then.

When I am able to get my thoughts out of my brain and onto something tangible, I feel connected to myself. I am able to get out of my own way, and focus. I feel less lonely. I feel I have more direction in my decisions. My journals have heard many secrets. Some secrets that not even the closest people to me have heard. Writing gets my creative juices flowing. It allows me to organize my thoughts, and compartmentalize my feelings. My journal is my safe place. My journal was my only voice for a long time.

What I want everyone to know is, we all have a voice. We all deserve to feel connected to ourselves. We are all important. And it is important to find out how we will use our voices. I, for one, still have high hopes to make the world a brighter place. To reach out to those who feel alone in whatever they are going through. To offer them a piece of hope, and a sense of direction. To empower, encourage, motivate, and inspire others to find their voice, and their purpose. To know that they are not alone in whatever they are going through. To start a movement.

It Feels Good to be ‘Good’

If you’d like to walk in my shoes a little bit…

Just imagine to yourself, deciding on a hunch, to turn in the opposite direction of what you’ve been working toward for months. Up and deciding that what’s best for your family is to literally pack up the important shit and GO. To a new state. Immediately. Having a less-than vague plan. One backpack per individual family member. WITH TWO KIDS UNDER 5. Possessing nothing much but complete and utter blind faith in the idea of things working out.

Imagine spending the next 6 months getting your life back together. No choice but to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps. Feeling best friends with devastation, frustration, & stress. Literal ‘late-night-early-morning-squeeze-in-every-errend-every-day-around-the-clock’ type of grind. No end in sight, setback after setback. Trying to keep a happy face for the kids. Brand new driver’s licenses, banks, careers, vehicles, home, doctors, schools, wardrobes…..everything needing to be re-established.

Then imagine COMING OUT ON TOP. Turning out happy, and relatively well-adjusted. Navigating random ass obstacles with ease and positivity. Making friends, receiving promotions, getting basic household items and furniture back.

I am thankful for the life we are making for ourselves here. I’m thankful for my husband for bringing me back to sanity a time or two. And I’m thankful for every single person who has helped my family get to where we are today. So. Cali is okay I guess 🙂

I am a Dreamer & I Will Not Apologize

I am a dreamer, and I always have been.

I have always been drawn to those who keep an evolving vision to match their continually -expanding hope for success. Those who keep their dream safe and protected from negative thoughts that could potentially taint it. The ones who work hard to acquire the specialized knowledge & to develop the talents to see that dream manifested. They know not to even acknowledge the fleeting setbacks that keep coming full force. They learn to love failure, because it’s known that with every seed of adversity brings with it, an even greater seed for success. These people spread love and encouragement everywhere they go, and are capable of cultivating genuine happiness for other dreamers working toward their own vision. These are MY people.

What’s difficult for me is connecting with your average pessimist.


Only seeing the daily struggle, and therefore only FEELING the daily struggle. These people lack the creative capacity to even imagine their life as any different than it always has been. They often poke fun at the dreamers for thinking they can be successful, and may not even know what failure is like, because they’ve never taken the risk of appearing foolish for trying. They hold back praise for others’ accomplishments, because for some in-explainable reason it’s a let down to see someone else happy and successful.

While we can’t avoid these people I do think it’s important to learn how to co-exist while protecting that fire within ourselves. I’m a huge believer in the idea that if I take care of my mind, my attitude, and watch the way that I talk to myself- then everything always finds a way to work itself out.