The DC Trek: A Mental Audit in the Tulips 🌷

Yesterday started with a simple flyer and a neighbor’s text. By the end of it, we had covered 8.26 miles of pavement, survived a food truck "investigation," welcomed an over-excited rescue dog, and nearly had a bladder incident.

But really, it was a mission.

We started in Oxon Hill at the MGM for an event with the Maryland Park Police. When my neighbor sent the flyer that morning, she mentioned her mom was up for taking the kids, and I was like… yeah, I am going too. I wasn’t about to sit that one out.

I wanted to be outside. I wanted the movement.

But before we hit the pavement, we had to handle the logistics. We parked, geared up with Gatorade and water, and the kids secured their stuffed animals—the essentials. The officers laid out the path, gave us the rules, and walked us through how it was all going to go down. Then, we started walking.

About a mile in, the "I can't" energy started to show up. My daughter, Leia Moon, started struggling early. Her legs were heavy, her feet were hurting, and I spent the majority of that walk feeding life into her. I had to be the drive she didn't know she had.

Leia Moon was having a real moment, though.

And I realized real quick… this wasn’t just a leisurely walk for me anymore.

I spent most of that time not just moving my own feet, but pouring into hers. Encouraging her, pushing her, reminding her she could keep going even when her body was telling her something else. While I was talking to her, I started having my own little internal audit.

I thought back to 2022, when I first started working out again with my brother (Brobi-Won Kenobi). I hadn’t been active in a while, and he threw me straight into a 20-minute run. I remember those first few weeks—I did nothing but complain.

Until something clicked.

I remembered who I used to be. I thought back to basic training—the woman who could clock two miles in under 18 minutes. I had to ask myself: Why can’t I do that now? The strength was still there; I just had to stop talking to the struggle.

The strength didn’t leave. I just got louder than it.

So being able to pass that mindset to her, right there in the middle of that walk, felt full circle for me.

We even ran into a Maryland Park Police officer who stopped and talked to the boys for a minute. He was telling them about golf—not just as something to play, but as a strategy. He was real with them about how access and opportunity look different, and how thinking ahead matters.

I appreciated that. It wasn’t forced. It was just… guidance.

By the time we wrapped up, we were tired, but in that good way. The kind where you know you actually did something with your day. After all that, I went home for a bit.

And honestly, that could’ve been the end of the day.

But it wasn’t.

We had already established that Lady Ronda of Naboo and I both wanted to hang today expeditiously. She did not want to be in the house just as much as I didn't. She went to her son’s morning game while I went to Oxon Hill, but as soon as both events were done, we made the call: we were going to see the cherry blossoms. We coordinated our commute into the city so we could get there at the same time and hit the ground running. We just wanted to be outside.

A few hours later..............

The Shift: Finding the Details

We ended up parking near Constitution and 18th, right by the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) museum. And I’m glad we did... because we actually went in.

Now I’m not even gonna lie—I didn’t expect the kids to be as into it as they were. But they were in there, really looking. Opening drawers, pointing things out, asking questions... fully engaged. There was a section with old ceramics that felt delicate just looking at them, and drawers you could pull out to see the smaller items. Little patterns and details you would miss if you weren’t paying attention.

And they were paying attention. That part mattered to me. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't forced. It just happened.

After that, we stepped back outside and started walking. It was about a 20-minute walk—nothing too crazy, but enough to slow things down. We passed buildings I’ve driven by a hundred times and never really looked at. Murals, architecture, little details... the kind of stuff you only notice when you’re not in a rush.

We finally made it to the Jefferson Memorial, and that’s when Luke Tide hit his limit. Hungry. Not negotiable.

In this phase of life, I’ve learned: when your kids need something—and your body is already overstimulated and tired—you don’t push through like you used to. You pivot. So, I put the "mission" on pause and went to find a food truck.

We sat behind the Memorial where the Cherry Blossom Festival was set up. Instead of rushing, I let myself sit. Eat. Breathe. If you’re in perimenopause, you already know—those moments matter. Your body doesn’t bounce back the same way when you ignore it.

And right in the middle of that, a dog ran up to me out of nowhere. I got way too excited and didn't even try to tone it down. Joy is medicine too.

Once we stepped inside, everything slowed all the way down. We saw girls in their prom dresses looking like royalty, and then I started reading the inscriptions on the walls. One line stopped me cold:

“I have sworn upon the altar of God eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.”

How much of our stress and anxiety is just tyranny over our own minds? Especially now, when thoughts can feel louder and heavier. Protecting your peace is the real work of this season.

The Unexpected Beauty

On the way back, we stumbled on rows of tulips. I finally stopped and took my picture in my purple outfit against that sea of flowers. Not because I needed "content," but because I felt good in that moment.

The Kind of Friendship That Keeps You Balanced

Lady Ronda of Naboo & Jess of Naboo (aka Strawburry Savorings.)

This season of life will test you. That’s why who you have around you matters. My best friend and I did a total reset after last summer. Now we know: we need this connection at least twice a month. We leave feeling better than we came. That’s not optional; it’s necessary.

The funniest part? When we got home, we ended up on the same wavelength. Same shower timing. Same soap. We even stuck our tongues out at the same time and just lost it laughing. When you’re aligned like that, you don't have to try.

I’m starting to work with myself instead of against myself. I rest when I need to. I eat when my body says to eat. I slow down when the noise gets too loud. And I hold onto the people who refill my cup. This isn't about losing who I was—it's about evolving into who I need to be now.