Yesterday was my son's very first formal high school dance. His freshman year Homecoming. A good place to start, I suppose, in the Parenting World of All Things High School. I think I learned quite a few lessons along the way in this 'first at bat' that hopefully, given almost four more years, we can fine tune before Senior Prom.

The first lesson: Start Early. Start early asking the questions, especially if your child is a boy. Seems like all of my friends who have daughters, were basically just told the details and the plans and the parents just made it all happen. With my son, it was like pulling teeth to get everything lined up, detailed and organized. We paid out an extra ten dollars more per ticket because he procrastinated on whether he would be going solo with a group of friends, or taking a date. And shopping for his outfit, forget it... he could care less about that detail and didn't want to be bothered. My husband and I bought his tie, without him present. Isn't there something wrong with that? 

The second lesson: Give him clear expectations on the details. Since he decided he would be taking a date, we needed to negotiate the details of that transaction as he is the Boy, we are Traditional, and He is only still fourteen. Once we gave him our expectations on meeting his date and her parents, things got easier. 

From there, the details were locked in and the plans were made. We invited his date and her parents over to our house for pictures and appetizers before the dance. His date also happened to be his middle school "girlfriend" of which we had never officially met during those 6th, 7th and 8th grade Wonder Years because their relationship consisted of car pick-up line chatter and Instagram fodder. Thank you, Jesus.

This would be our first go as parents, hosting our son's date and her parents, both of whom we'd never officially met, in our home. My son kept complaining to me, "Mom, I don't understand what we are all going to talk about for over an hour... It's going to be so awkward!" Even as I knew and understood his normal anxieties, and trust me, had a few of my own as a First Timer to this sort of thing, I also believed strongly this was the Right thing to do and the way we want to raise our son. 

I can't tell you how happy I am for our home and to be able to do the right thing and open our home the way we wanted to and the way we plan to for many more years to come. To meet parents, to host friends, to celebrate occasions and holidays and birthdays and people and love and life.

The lessons we learn, that build and shape us, start at home. All of those lessons, even the awkward ones, where an hour can seem like five hours. Where you stand in your kitchen with your parents, and her parents, and little siblings, in a tie, and a tucked-in, button-up shirt and uncomfortable shoes and you smile and answer politely and try to seem interested in all of the small talk. Those lessons start at home and when you design your home with those lessons in mind, you will find the comfort. 

As I start down this journey of helping others achieve their goals for "home," I can't help but to keep the most fundamental element of design in mind... that is, creating a home that is Comforting. One that Invites and Hosts, one that Welcomes. We don't do that with rooms that can't be entered, or sofas that can't be sat on... Instead, we do that with homes where we can touch, fall, shake in our shoes, sit, sweat, gather and live. Homes where awkward meetings can turn into the happiest of times, where wonderful memories are created even in just an hour's worth of time. 

You've got to admit the irony that exists, when on the day of my very first PNC (Potential New Client) meeting, actually an hour before the meeting, UPS delivers my husband's latest book purchase, titled, "How Not To Die." 
Seriously.
I'm finishing a long soak in the tub, to calm my New Girl Fears, when the Hubby pops his head in the door, to inform me that the doorbell was just his new book order from Amazon. 
How Not To Die.
Legit. A  super thick, 400+ page How To, on living to age ninety.
You can't make this stuff up.

Here I am soaking in the tub, praying to God and Jesus and I think, even Mary, to help me Not Die during the impending PNC meeting, and my husband, who has carried this ship financially since the birth of our first born almost 15 years ago, has just ordered a book thicker than a first edition, War and Peace, on how to live longer and, well...How Not To Die.
Perspective.

I'm terrified. I know in my head logically, that you have to start somewhere. You have to make mistakes. You have to be vulnerable, and scared, and fearless, and terrified... sometimes and usually, all at once.
I am.
I am all of those things.
They make me, Me.

Tonight's PNC meeting went far better than The Scary Fears In My Mind imagined it would. I am grateful. I am hopeful. I am Learning. And yet, I have so much still to learn. But beyond all of this, I am Living and soon to be Creating. 

And maybe, just maybe, on this journey, my husband will reap the benefits long overdue him for his heavy lifting in our family. I look forward to laughing with him at age 90, about the things that terrified us in our forties!