Get ready for one of the shortest Sunday updates ever! Normally, writing these little end-of-the-week recaps is how I unwind and process another crazy week. I find writing both relaxing and refreshing at the same time.
This past weekend, though, I was able to recharge in a completely different way: for the first time in over two years, I went to the ocean.
I am lucky that growing up, I went to the beach at least once a year. I have always loved everything about it, from the sand to the sounds of the waves to the shells that wash up on the shore. From a young age, I have enjoyed long walks on the beach (as cliché as it might sound) and I would often walk for over an hour. I would also always be sure to catch a sunrise at least once, waiting on the dunes in the dark for the clouds to turn brilliant hues of pink and orange and gold.
When I graduated high school and went off to college, it was January. I had been accepted to both Brigham Young University’s main campus in Provo, Utah, and to BYU Hawaii. Given that it was the middle of winter, and given that I had always loved the beach, naturally I chose Hawai’i. I lived on the North Shore of O’ahu for only a year and a half, but I loved every second. Some of the most pristine and beautiful beaches in the world were only a five minute walk away from my dorm, so I went as often as I could.
Then I moved back home to North Carolina, had my daughter, started law school, had the twins. Next thing I knew, it had been over two years since I had been to the beach. I went a few months before starting law school in 2024, but that was it. So when my best friend moved closer to the beach and some plans for her weekend fell through at the last minute, I loaded up my car as fast as I could and practically skipped out of the house before six o’clock on Saturday morning. Four hours later, I was sitting in a Tommy Bahama beach chair, cold cherry Coca-Cola in hand, watching the dogs play and the waves crash against the shore. I took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in weeks and told my friend, “Suddenly, everything I was stressing about just… doesn’t matter. Life is good. Life is so good.”
Visiting the ocean for the first time in years was healing not just because I was reunited with the beach, but because for the first time in months, I got to be just me.
Not a mom. Not, “Mom! Mom! Mom! Mommy! Mom!” Not someone’s wife.
Just… me.
I wrote the other week about how motherhood has aged me to the point that I feel much older than I actually am. But for the day I spent at the beach, I was able to actually just be a girl in her twenties for a few hours. Me and my friend sipped our drinks, watched our puppies play, yapped, and relaxed for hours and it felt so nice.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being a mother. And I loooove being my husband’s wife. But before I was “Mrs.” and before I was “Mom,” I was Megan, and I want to love being Megan as much as I love all of my other roles in life, too.
Step by Step Parenting 