The Roundabout Road to Fidget-Wear
I can tell stories with bits and pieces from my life all day long. Give me a topic, or a specific moment? No problem. But sitting down to write my journey—how I got here, how Fidget-Wear came to be? That’s way trickier. Partly because writing about myself is just... awkward. And partly because, well, my life has been a winding, one-thing-leads-to-another with many construction zones along the way kind of road. There are so many stories throughout my life that I can see have led me right to where I am, it’s hard to know where to even begin.
Sometimes, I catch myself thinking, “I haven’t really done anything special.” Then I remember I’ve jumped out of planes, smashed cars in demolition derbies, packed up and moved to Hawaii at 23 all by myself, and came back to be a full-time caregiver for my grandfather. So yeah—turns out it’s been quite the adventure.
My stepmom used to call me a “free spirit,” and honestly, she wasn’t wrong. I’ve never really followed a mapped-out plan. I just followed life where it led me—and it led me to some unexpected, unforgettable places.
If you ask me to describe my sisters and me, I always say: “One was a math major, one was an English major, and me? I was the recreation major.” And yep, a lot of my classes were as fun as that sounds. But there was hard work too—I promise. Still, the comparison always makes me smile because it’s a perfect reflection of how differently our brains work. No one is better or smarter—our brains just work differently, and we each have different strengths. I’ve always been the hands-on, get-dirty, can’t-sit-still-for-long one.
Honestly, if I were a kid today, there probably would have been a prescription with my name on it. But back then, my mom just kept me moving. Sports, activities, and outside to play. I was lucky to have parents that put in so much work into helping me succeed. Spelling words taped to the bathroom mirror, at the kitchen table, and in the car weekly. Reading aloud together, alternating chapters, just to get those book reports done. Oh, and the early morning swim practices. Who couldn’t sit still for a few hours of class after that?
You know the classic, “Someday you’ll appreciate this”? Yeah. I really, truly do. Especially after having children of my own.
Growing up, I thought my life was pretty normal. And maybe it was. But the older I get, the more I realize how unique and special it really was. Until I was about 10 or 11, I split my time between two households—Mom’s and Dad’s. Like a lot of kids. Then after my dad and stepmom divorced, I saw it as having another household, I still had mom and dad’s but then I also had my stepmoms and even though we didn’t spend as much time with her or get to see that side of our family as much, they were still my family. I had step-parents who loved us like their own. Blood family, step-family—it all blended. Everyone was just… family.
Our family was a colorful mix of people—different lifestyles, values, and beliefs. Some are very religious, some are not at all. Blue collar, white collar. Some who drank a little, some who drank too much, and some who didn’t touch the stuff. Some who were loud, and some who were reserved. And right in the middle of that mix? A killer soundtrack.
When I talk about my sisters, I use our college majors (side note: none of us work in our studied field) to show our differences. When I talk about my parents, it’s all about the music. My mom was Peter, Paul, and Mary and Simon and Garfunkel. My stepdad brought the Dr. Hook and Led Zeppelin. My dad was all Beach Boys, Grand Funk Railroad, and The Temptations. And my stepmom? We loved her 45s of Kenny Rogers, Quiet Riot, and The Beatles. Add in a Tanya Tucker 8-track and an Alvin and the Chipmunks Urban Chipmunk cassette, and you get the picture—we were an eclectic bunch.
So what does any of this have to do with Fidget-Wear?
Everything.
Being the wild, free-spirited tomboy that I was—and being raised in this beautifully chaotic environment—helped me become a creative problem-solver. School was hard for me. Growing up was hard in its own ways. But those struggles gave me the tools to approach problems differently and draw from a wide range of life experiences. Fidget-Wear only exists because of who I am, and who I am is rooted in that childhood foundation.
Funny thing I haven’t thought about in years, but it still rings true:
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If I do something dumb, don’t call Mom—she’s not bailing me out.
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My mom and stepdad are my safety net. They’ll always be there, as long as I take responsibility, even for the dumb stuff, Mom might just make me sit with my choice for a while first.
That safety net gave me the freedom to bounce around—five states in five years after high school. It gave me the guts to press pause on college, work in a factory (spoiler alert: hated it), and then try out substitute teaching. That’s when everything clicked. Especially in special education classrooms—that’s where I found my people.
Every kid learns differently. Struggles differently. And so often, the tools just don’t exist. A lot of the time, it’s not that things are being done wrong, it’s just... no one’s had the chance to look at them differently. I loved being the fresh set of eyes in the room. I worked with kids ages 3 to 26, all with different needs, abilities, and quirks. I loved it.
But here’s what totally caught me off guard: All that experience in the classroom? It didn’t come close to preparing me for being a mom in the special ed system. Being the teacher and being the parent are two very different things. Sure, my background helped, but I still found myself overwhelmed. And it made me think—how on earth does anyone manage this without a head start? My heart goes out to every parent navigating it without that head start. It’s hard. Really hard.
Being the teacher and being the parent? Whole different worlds. My background helped; sure, that’s what makes Fidget-Wear personal. It came from my life. From my childhood. From my classroom time. From my parenting. And now? From the business I'm building, one stitch at a time.
For the past three years, Fidget-Wear has been teaching me. I grew up being taught to stay humble—don’t be a show-off, don’t assume your idea is better than anyone else’s. So first, I had to give myself permission to believe that my idea was actually good. Like, really good.
The first time I showed my designs around, the feedback was amazing. OTs, counselors, teachers—they all said, “You should be selling these!” So I made extras. I’ve probably given away over 150 pieces through the years. But life kept pulling me away—sometimes for a month, sometimes nine. And yet Fidget-Wear always came back around. The need never really went away.
Eventually, I decided to go for it. I filed for a patent. The boys were older, I finally had some time. Then, boom—COVID. Three boys home, 24/7. Fidget-Wear hit the back burner again. But I didn’t let the dream go. I kept showing up, kept working. When it was time to decide whether to let the patent lapse or go for the full filing, I asked myself, “Do I still believe in this?” And the answer was yes. A big, solid YES.
I had to face the next hurdle: I didn’t know what I was doing. I mean, I’d owned a paint-your-own-pottery studio and had done custom laser engraving. But apparel? Clothing design? Social media? Networking? None of it was in my comfort zone. Fashion? I mean... I like comfy. That’s about it.
But I started learning. Took courses. Joined business groups. Started showing up in rooms that made me nervous. I had to believe in my idea. Then I had to say it out loud. I had to be the one to say, “This is not just a good idea—it’s a great one.”
That was hard. Weirdly hard. I’d never had a negative response. Everyone had been kind and supportive. And yet, I had to battle myself just to believe I was worthy of sharing it.
Every inventor thinks their idea could change the world. That little voice in my head kept whispering, “So what makes yours so special?” And then one day, I heard myself say back, “Why not?”
Why can’t Fidget-Wear be the thing that helps people? Why can’t this go viral? Why can’t this be big?
And the answer? It totally can.
Now, I have confidence in Fidget-Wear and in myself. That doesn’t mean the doubt doesn’t sneak in sometimes. When it does, I send more emails. Make more calls. Sign up for another event. I push back, because this is worth it.
I’m still growing into the business side of all this. And that’s okay. I don’t have to have it all figured out. I just have to keep showing up. Because this is real. This is mine. And I’ll never have to wonder, “What if?”
Fidget-Wear is still unfolding. It’s stitched with every messy, heartfelt piece of my story. Every design comes with purpose. And every day I work on it, I grow a little more—right alongside it.