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I know many of you have already lost your parents. I lost my father on May 19, 2023, and that day became a watershed moment for me — one of those life markers that quietly forces you to re-evaluate everything. Now my mother is living with the early stages of dementia. I treasure the moments I still have with her, but I also feel the fear of losing her every single day. And it’s not just our parents. Lately I’ve started losing classmates, friends, and co‑workers — people my age or even younger. When that starts happening, you can’t help but think about your own mortality. If you’re anything like me, it’s scary, and the instinct is to bury your head in the sand and pretend none of it is happening. Then I stumbled across a planner online with a title that stopped me in my tracks: “ Gone But Still Telling You What To Do.” An end‑of‑life planner. With a title like that, I had to click. And honestly, it might even make my daughter laugh, since she’s accused me more than once of being bossy and still telling her what to do. I bought it on Amazon, and I was surprised by how many versions of these planners exist. They’re not morbid — they’re practical. They give you prompts, checklists, and ideas to help you start thinking about what needs to be in place long before your loved ones ever have to look for it. It’s not an exhaustive list, and it’s not the only thing you need, but it’s a starting point. Of course, the next step is the hard one: actually, sitting down with a pen and filling it out. That takes more time, more honesty, and more reflection than simply clicking “add to cart.” But hopefully the inevitable is still far down the road. And if taking the time now makes things easier for the people you love during one of the hardest moments of their lives — well, that’s a gift. One they may not fully appreciate until they’re in the same position someday. And if you can offer that gift with a little cheekiness and a touch of levity? Why wouldn’t you.

You are not everyone’s cup of tea—and honestly, do you even want to be? Tea is lovely, sure, but so is champagne, and nobody’s out here trying to pour that into every mug in the break room. When you’re young, you chase approval like it’s a limited-edition lip gloss. You want to fit in, blend in, smooth out your edges so no one gets poked. But the older you get, the more you realize that being universally liked is… suspicious. If everyone likes you, you’re probably people-pleasing yourself into exhaustion, playing it safe, and dimming your own light so others don’t squint. Elbert Hubbard said it best: “The only way to avoid criticism is to do nothing, say nothing, and be nothing.” And you? You are most certainly something. Something bold. Something real. Something that doesn’t shrink to fit. People-pleasing is a full-time job with terrible benefits. You end up being fake to someone—either to others or, worse, to yourself. And trust me, people can smell that façade from a mile away. They don’t admire it; they tolerate it. And who wants to be tolerated when you could be celebrated? Don’t you want the right people to be excited about you? The ones who see your quirks, your edges, your sparkle—and lean in instead of backing away. You don’t like everyone you meet, and that’s just human nature. So why expect universal applause? Learning to stomach a little rejection is like strength training for the soul. Criticism can keep you grounded, sharpen you, and sometimes—let’s be honest—give you a little extra motivation. And if you happen to be living rent-free in someone’s head? Well, that’s just a bonus feature. Envy is loud. Jealousy is messy. And winners don’t waste time arguing with people who are committed to misunderstanding them. Let them talk. Let tongues wag. Maybe you’re like the L’Oréal tagline and simply worth talking about. Take the classy high road—not because you’re pretending to be above it all, but because their behavior reflects them, not you. Being the main character in your own story means you’re going to face obstacles, villains, plot twists, and the occasional hater with too much time on their hands. Overcome them with grace, humor, and a little sparkle. You’re not a bad person for not being everyone’s favorite flavor. You’re just not meant for everyone—and that’s the beauty of it. When you stop trying to please the masses, you make room for your tribe. The people who don’t just like you—they love you. The ones who get you, hype you, and choose you. So, let’s value our differences, stay true to ourselves, and appreciate the people who genuinely want to be in our orbit. They’re the ones who matter.

This year, I’m claiming the word KEEP. Yes, KEEP — the tiny little verb that jumped out at me from a random commercial and then refused to leave my brain. (Honestly, it’s been living rent‑free up there for weeks.) The official definition? “To cause to continue in a specified condition, position, or course. ”The unofficial definition? “A gentle shove from the universe to get your life together… but kindly.” And let’s be real — it doesn’t hurt that it’s alliterative with the blog name. A girl loves a theme. Here’s the idea: once a month, we choose something to keep doing. Maybe it’s keeping a good habit going. Maybe it’s keeping a promise to yourself. Maybe it’s keeping your sanity by letting go of something that’s been dragging you down. KEEP is flexible like that. She’s the yoga instructor of words. And since it is the start of a new year — when half of us are vowing to lose weight, get in shape, drink more water, or at least stop treating iced coffee as a food group — let’s start with KEEP Moving. But here’s the twist: moving doesn’t have to mean steps, reps, or sweating through a sports bra you regret buying. Movement can be mental. Movement can be spiritual. Movement can be emotional, creative, relational — whatever direction your life is nudging you toward. KEEP Moving simply means: don’t stay stuck. Not in old habits, not in old stories, not in old versions of yourself. So, I want to hear from you. How are you interpreting KEEP Moving? What are you working on, leaning into, or gently nudging forward this month? Share it with me — because here at Kicking the Chaos with Kaylin, we’re keeping the momentum going together.

Many people dread Mondays. They mark the end of a weekend most of us would happily stretch just a little longer. For many, Monday signals the start of the work week — the return to schedules, responsibilities, and the pace of everyday life. It’s no surprise the day gets such a bad reputation. But Mondays aren’t necessarily a bad thing. They don’t have to be dreaded at all. In fact, they can be something to look forward to. One of the things I genuinely enjoy about Mondays is catching up with my work crew. I’ve cultivated a wonderful group of girlfriends at the office, and it’s always fun to hear how everyone’s weekend went. We pile into someone’s office and swap stories — the adventures, the errands, the quiet moments. It’s basically our own Monday morning talk show, just without the glam squad… though honestly, we deserve one. And if you’re like me, you hopefully enjoy your job and the people you work with. That alone makes the work week — and the start of it — something to appreciate rather than avoid. Mondays also offer something people don’t always give them credit for: a clean slate. A fresh start. A chance to reset your mindset, your goals, your energy. For those who love routine, Monday slides right back into place like a puzzle piece. And for many, the weekend brings just enough rest and recharge to feel ready to tackle whatever the week holds — or at least ready enough to look functional until the caffeine kicks in. (We’re all doing our best.) A lot of people also look forward to the social side of Mondays — the chance to reconnect, strengthen professional relationships, and ease back into the week with a sense of community. And honestly, some people simply like having a reason to get out of bed and put on real pants again. (Leggings, don’t pout. You’ll be back in rotation soon.) But most of all, for me, Mondays remind me to be grateful. I’m grateful for a good job — one I enjoy, one I feel good about doing. I’m grateful for another day to be alive, to contribute, to show up. Work has a way of giving that perspective, grounding you in the simple truth that being here, being able to do what you do, is something worth appreciating. Mondays also give you an opportunity to serve. Weekends are typically for you or your family, but Mondays signal a shift — a time to give back, to support others, to be part of something bigger than your own little bubble. Whether you’ve got a new outfit you’re excited to show off, you’re planning a lunch date with your coworkers, or you’re simply ready to get back into the swing of things, Mondays don’t have to be dreaded. They are what you make of them. So go out there and manifest a magnificent Monday — because if we’re going to face the day anyway, we might as well strut into it like we own the place.

This year was our first blended Christmas — my 24‑year‑old daughter, his 17‑year‑old daughter, and the two of us trying to create something that felt like home for everyone. We’d already survived (and shockingly, thrived ) through a blended Thanksgiving, so I went into Christmas feeling optimistic. I told myself I’d embrace the change, release expectations, and focus on connection. My only real goal was simple: I wanted everyone to feel loved and like they belonged. And I’m not trying to brag… but we nailed it. The girls — who could pass as sisters in looks alone — actually acted  like sisters. As two only children, they seemed to unlock something in each other they didn’t even know they were missing. Watching them laugh together made my heart expand three sizes, Grinch‑style. Then there’s my S.O., who looked so happy the entire time that I’m pretty sure he was one mug of hot cocoa away from starring in a Hallmark movie. My daughter and I have always had joyful Christmases, but this one felt different — like the happiness had been multiplied instead of divided. Now, I’m not saying we’ve cracked the code to blended‑family perfection. Honestly, a lot of the magic came from the girls being open, kind, and genuinely accepting of their parents’ new partner. But if I were to offer a few tips to other families trying to blend their holidays, here’s what worked for us: Plan together.  Everyone got a say — movies, activities, the whole shebang. Honor food preferences.  I took everyone’s likes and dislikes into account. No one should have to fake‑smile through a casserole they secretly hate or a gray overcooked piece of meat (true-story) Manage expectations.  We focused on quality time, not marathon togetherness. Encourage honesty.  Everyone was free to share what they liked, didn’t like, or wanted to tweak for next year. Stay flexible.  We rolled with the punches, even when the punches looked suspiciously like last‑minute schedule changes. Let new traditions emerge.  And they did — beautifully. In the end, everyone embraced our new traditions and our new holiday together. And honestly? It felt like the start of something really special.

As we tiptoe (or stumble, depending on how December treated you) toward the new year, it’s hard not to think about all the traditions people cling to in hopes of coaxing a little extra luck, joy, and prosperity into the next 365 days. Whether you’re in the good ole USA or halfway across the world, the theme is universal: “Please, 2026… be kind.” Let’s take a look at some of the most beloved — and delightfully bizarre — New Year’s Eve traditions and superstitions. One of the most famous is the midnight kiss. According to German and English folklore, the person you kiss at midnight sets the tone for your love life for the entire year. No pressure or anything. Just your romantic destiny hinging on who’s closest when the ball drops. It’s also said to bring good luck, which explains why some people start scanning the room around 11:58 like they’re choosing teams for dodgeball. Another classic: making noise. Horns, fireworks, those little clacker things that sound like a toddler with a vendetta — all of it is meant to scare off evil spirits and negativity. Basically, it’s the one night a year where being obnoxiously loud is considered a public service. Food traditions might be the most delicious part of the night. Many cultures swear by round or ring-shaped foods to symbolize the cycle of life and the hope for wealth — because apparently, if it looks like a coin, it counts. In Spain, people eat 12 grapes at midnight, one for each month of the upcoming year. It sounds cute until you try to cram them in before the clock finishes chiming and suddenly you’re fighting for your life. In the Southern U.S., black-eyed peas and collard greens reign supreme in a dish called Hoppin’ John. The peas represent coins, the greens represent paper money, and the cornbread represents gold. Add pork for forward momentum — pigs root forward, after all — and you’ve basically eaten a financial vision board. Just avoid lobster, whose backward movement is associated with setbacks. Delicious? Yes. Symbolically risky? Also yes. Around the world, things get even more entertaining. In the Philippines, people wear polka dots because the dots look like coins. In Ireland, they bang bread on the walls to chase away bad luck — and possibly any neighbors who were trying to sleep. Many Latin American countries roll empty suitcases around the block to invite travel in the new year. Italians throw old furniture out the window to say goodbye to the past (hopefully after checking that no one is walking below). And in some places, people fling open doors and windows at midnight to let the old year out and the new one in — like an energetic houseguest swap. Some folks believe you shouldn’t cry on New Year’s Eve or you’ll set yourself up for a year of sadness. Others say don’t clean or you might sweep away good luck. Honestly, it sounds like the universe is giving us permission to skip chores and avoid emotional breakdowns for one night, and I’m not arguing. And then there’s the Polar Bear Plunge — a tradition embraced by many, including a branch of my new extended family, the Yachems and the Winkles. They willingly run into freezing water on New Year’s Day to raise money for good causes. It’s brave, it’s generous, and it’s also… very cold. I’ll cheer from the shore with a warm drink, thanks. Of course, the most popular tradition might be the New Year’s resolution, which dates back over 4,000 years to the Babylonians. They promised to repay debts and return borrowed items. Today, we promise to drink more water and go to the gym, and by January 12th, we’re like, “Well… I tried.” So, what’s your favorite New Year’s Eve tradition? Is it on this list, or is it something wonderfully weird we at KTCWK need to hear about? Here’s to thanking 2025 for the good, saying goodbye to the not-so-good, and wishing everyone a blessed 2026. May your chosen tradition bring you joy in the moment — and maybe even a little magic for the year ahead.

Holiday Fatigue The holidays are supposed to be filled with wonder and magic. But just like Oz behind the curtain, it’s usually the women frantically pulling levers, juggling lists, and whisper‑yelling “DON’T TOUCH THAT YET” while everyone else marvels at the Christmas sparkle. What’s meant to be a relaxing season can feel more like an endurance sport — minus the medal. Why does holiday fatigue happen? Because the moment December hits (and for some people the day after Thanksgiving), our normal routines pack their bags and leave. Sure, you may have time off work, but that doesn’t mean you’re lounging in fuzzy socks watching Hallmark movies. No, you’re shopping, decorating, planning menus, coordinating travel, and managing the emotional thermostat of the entire household. The magic doesn’t make itself — though wouldn’t that be nice. All that seasonal hustle takes a toll. Suddenly you’re exhausted, stiff, not sleeping well, forgetting words like “hydration,” and wondering why your body feels like it’s been wrapped in twinkle lights too tightly. Spoiler: it’s because your sleep is off, your meals are irregular, sugar has become its own food group, and your movement consists of “reaching for things on high shelves.” How do you rebound? By giving yourself the same care you give your holiday décor.– Prioritize sleep (yes, even if the tree is slightly crooked).– Choose nourishing snacks that aren’t shaped like reindeer.– Go easy on alcohol and caffeine — your nervous system is already doing the most.– Move gently: stretching, walking, or just standing up slowly like a Victorian ghost.– Drink water like it’s part of the tradition.– Take intentional pauses to breathe.– Create a wind‑down routine so your brain knows it’s time to stop jingling. How do you avoid the trap next year? Start by being honest about what you actually enjoy. If holiday prep doesn’t spark joy, give yourself permission to simplify. A “simple Christmas” is not a failure — it’s a strategy. If you do  love the hustle but want to avoid the crash, plan earlier, say “no” with grace (or without — either works), manage expectations, delegate tasks, and protect your healthy routines like they’re heirloom ornaments. I love the hustle and bustle too, but the older I get, the more I appreciate the beauty of cutting back. And here’s the truth: scaling down isn’t a lack of love or magic. It’s a gift to yourself — the gift of actually enjoying the season you worked so hard to create.

by Kicking The Chaos With Kaylin Looking back at 2025, I can’t help but laugh — girl, we survived. Here at Kicking the Chaos, blessings were plenty, and honestly, my heart feels full… and then some, and then twenty. I’ve got a daughter who’s healthy and thriving with grace, and a bonus daughter who showed up like, “Surprise — I’m part of the place! ”Two for one — a BOGO deal life didn’t warn me about, but I’ll take it with joy, zero returns, no doubt. We learned chosen family is magic you feel, the kind that hugs tighter and keeps it all real. And let’s talk about dating the best guy around —the one who makes my heart do that ridiculous sound. We travel, we wander, we Netflix and chill, we adventure like teenagers… but with Advil. This year I embraced 50+ with a grin, stepped out of my comfort zone, and let a whole new chapter begin. I started a blog — who knew it’d be fun to write my chaos out loud and not scare everyone. Old friends reappeared, new stories were spun, and reconnecting reminded me that life’s best circles never really come undone. From my mom’s tender moments to the furbabies’ flair, from the job that keeps me grounded to the girlfriends always there —this year has been wild, messy, sweet, and sincere…a full‑on, unforgettable KTCWK kind of year. So, on this Christmas Day, I’m raising a cheer to the blessings, the chaos, and the joy we shared, to love, to growth, to the memories we cook —2025, you were one for the book. (sorry for the forced rhyming, but I had to do it ;) Merry Christmas!

It's the week before Christmas, and I've been busier than an elf on a double shift. Work was a blur of festivities, volunteer events, girls’ night out, and a family weekend that could’ve used its own itinerary. The office was overflowing with Christmas spirit — and sugar. Desks were decorated, the break room looked like the North Pole’s snack aisle exploded, and even the office chatter felt lighter, probably because everyone was running on equal parts caffeine and candy canes. Then I spent an evening at a local domestic violence family justice center https://www.branchhousetn.org/ , where the holiday magic was just as strong. Santa and Mrs. Claus held court, kids shared their wish lists, “elves” handed out gifts, and doughnuts and chocolate milk flowed like we were all carb-loading for the reindeer games. If you have a domestic violence organization close to your heart, consider giving some of your time — it’s the kind of thing that could make even the Grinch’s heart grow three sizes and maybe even crack a smile. Next up, the girls and I hit the AR Workshop in Bristol, TN. https://www.arworkshop.com/bristol/ We slung paint and glitter onto ceramic Christmas trees with the precision of surgeons… if surgeons were hopped up on holiday cheer and armed with snacks. While our masterpieces dried, we devoured takeout and dove into a double round of white elephant. Let me tell you, these ladies are ruthless — if they spot a gift they want, they’ll snatch it faster than Santa sliding down a chimney. The laughter coming out of that workshop could probably be heard at the North Pole. This is definitely becoming an annual tradition. We wrapped up the weekend with a road trip to Knoxville, TN, to Schulz Brau Brewing Company https://www.schulzbraubrewing.com/ — a German-style brewery with a castle entrance that made me feel like I should’ve worn a cape. The beer garden was transformed into a full-on European Christkindlesmarkt. There was live music, hot chocolate, gluhwein, beer, Santa, German food, excellent people-watching, and even Krampus showed up, because why not. It’s the closest thing East Tennessee has to a German Christmas market, and honestly, it was magical.

After raising my child as a single parent, she suggested that I start dating. I think she was worried about leaving me alone when she went away to school. I gave it some thought and eventually dipped my toe into the dating pool. It was nerve‑racking, but also liberating to date in my 50s+. Of course, I wanted to make a good impression, but I didn’t feel pressure—I was fine with or without a man in my life. In my younger years, I might have played games or held back my true self. But this time, I decided to be authentic from the start. They either liked me or they didn’t. I dated a few frogs (and let me tell you, some of those frogs were very  committed to staying frogs), and then I found a prince. Honestly, I wasn’t sure good guys even existed anymore. Well, that was almost two years ago, and we’re still going strong. We haven’t even had a fight—though we’ve had a few spirited debates over thermostat settings. That said, something happened a month ago that caught me off guard. My boyfriend had a doctor's appointment, and I was his driver. When we checked in, the nurse asked if he had a driver. He gestured to me and said yes. Then she asked, “What is your relation to the driver?” and he replied, “Friend.” It was a gut punch. I couldn’t believe how much that word stung. I went to sit down, and he joined me as if nothing had happened. I decided not to bring it up before his procedure—just in case something went wrong. (Imagine me storming into the recovery room yelling, “This is your FRIEND speaking!” Not the vibe.) Thankfully, he came through fine. On the way home, we stopped for an early dinner. When he asked what I wanted, I said, “Well, as your friend, I would like…” And that’s how the meal continued, me referring to myself as his friend. That’s when he realized what he had done. His excuse was that he didn’t think there was a box for “girlfriend.” He assured me I was much more than a friend, and the next day I received the most beautiful arrangement of flowers at my office addressed to “the most amazing girlfriend.” Now we laugh about it—though I still tease him that if he ever calls me “friend” again, I’ll start introducing him as my “Uber driver.” But it made me wonder: what do people our age—50+ and in serious, committed relationships but not married—call each other? “Girlfriend” and “boyfriend” sound juvenile, like we’re back in high school and he just gave me his class ring. “Partner” or “life partner” feels more like a business arrangement. There’s “better half,” “sweetheart,” “lover,” “Mr. Big,” “mi amore,” “love of my life,” or the more mature “S.O.” (significant other). None of them feel quite right. One evening, my daughter, my boyfriend, and I were talking about her relationship. She wondered when her boyfriend would ask her to be his “official” girlfriend. They had been dating for a while, but she explained they were only “talking” until he asked. Then she looked at my boyfriend and asked when he had asked me. He said he hadn’t—we just understood it. I agreed. I didn’t need him to ask me to “go steady.” Puzzled, my daughter pressed, “Well, what are you all then?” And he replied, “We are us.” And I loved that answer. Maybe in this world of labels, this is one time when a label isn’t necessary. I’ll be content being “us,” and each person is free to define their relationship in whatever way feels right.    Do any of you all have an opinion on this or another term that you all use that you would like to share with KTCWK?

Christmas wreaths adorn doors, windows, fences, light posts—even jeep grills (because nothing says “holiday spirit” like a festive bumper). They show up on Christmas cards and wrapping paper, instantly recognizable as a symbol of the season. But where did this tradition begin? Back in ancient Greece and Rome, wreaths were all about victory and power. Emperors wore them like crowns, and athletes got them as trophies—basically the original “bling.” Fast forward a few centuries, and once Christmas trees started appearing in homes, the holiday wreath was born. Families trimmed their trees into perfect shapes, leaving behind scraps of evergreen. And since nothing went to waste back then, those clippings were woven into circles and hung as ornaments. The circular shape represented divine perfection, while the evergreen itself symbolized resilience, life, and hope—thriving even in the harshest winters. Over time, the wreath evolved from a tree ornament into a standalone decoration, gracing doors and walls as a sign of welcome and celebration. Today, wreaths are as unique as the people who make them. Some are whimsical, like Grinch-themed creations. Others are filled with natural elements: pinecones for long life and prosperity, sage for good health. Still others sparkle with ornaments, baubles, and ribbons. Wreath-making has even become a social tradition, with classes turning into festive girls’ day outings (where the glue gun is the real MVP). What hasn’t changed is the spirit behind them. In a world that often favors tossing things out and buying something new, the wreath reminds us of a time when upcycling wasn’t trendy—it was survival. It’s a circle of creativity, resilience, and joy—woven from scraps, yet carrying centuries of meaning.

Holidays with family are supposed to be happy, fun, and festive. But what if there’s a narcissist in the mix? Suddenly the season of joy becomes the season of “Oh no, here we go again.” A narcissist is someone who is excessively self‑centered, with an inflated sense of self‑importance, a deep need for admiration, and a baffling lack of empathy. Think of someone who could turn a simple gift exchange into a one‑person Broadway show—starring them, directed by them, and funded by your emotional energy. Narcissists thrive on chaos and attention, and they will try to turn any special occasion into a circus tent with themselves as the ringmaster. And if you’ve been through this for years, you already know: they don’t suddenly wake up on December 25th full of peace, love, and accountability. My daughter and I know this all too well. If you don’t react to their gifts like you’ve just won a car on a game show, there will be consequences. So instead of walking on eggshells (which, frankly, is terrible for your arches), here are some strategies to protect your peace and reclaim your joy. 1. Choose Your Audience You don’t have to spend the holiday with your family if it means enduring abuse. Celebrate with your chosen family—the people who don’t require a performance. You can still see the relatives you love before or after the holiday, safely avoiding the narcissist’s stage time. This isn’t giving them control—it’s taking back the remote and changing the channel. 2. Manage Expectations Don’t expect apologies, accountability, or sudden Grinch‑heart‑grows‑three‑sizes moments. Prepare for the same old behavior, and you won’t be disappointed. It’s emotional budgeting. 3. Set Limits Decide how much time you’re willing to spend with this person and when you’re done. Think of it like setting a timer on a scented candle—lovely for a bit, but you’re not letting it burn the house down. 4. Take Care of Yourself Get a good night’s sleep before entering the “wolf’s den.” Hydrate. Stretch. Maybe do a few warm‑up breaths. When they inevitably poke at you, resist the urge to take the bait. Keep busy—play with the kids, take a walk, or hang out with the people who don’t drain your soul like a phone battery stuck on 1%. 5. Find Humor Bring a “narcissist bingo card”—a dark‑humor masterpiece featuring classics like “interrupts someone’s story,” “gives a gift that’s really about them,” and “makes the holiday about their childhood trauma for the 47th year in a row.” When you or your allies hit bingo, share a discreet laugh or use it as your cue to exit stage left. 6. Plan Self‑Care After the holiday, schedule something restorative—a spa day, a quiet retreat, or time with friends who don’t require emotional hazard pay. Having something to look forward to helps you stay grounded. In the end, the trick is to take their power away by living a happy life and enjoying a festive holiday—preferably one where you’re not dodging emotional shrapnel. Because your joy is the one thing a narcissist can’t stand, and honestly, that’s reason enough to shine.