The universe has a subtle way of telling you to keep it simple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The other day, I wasn\u2019t even going anywhere. But I wanted to feel a bit more like me<\/em>, so I sat down to do my makeup. I ended up taking my eyeliner off three times. Three.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I was incredibly grateful I\u2019d recently switched to doing my eyes before the rest of my face, or I would have been thoroughly defeated by the time I hit the third smudge. I finally got it right\u2014or right enough\u2014and realized that sometimes, “pretty good” is a victory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I\u2019ve noticed how easy it is to reach for small fixes lately\u2014little things that promise to smooth the edges. I\u2019ve even been trying the Kind<\/a> patches, not as a miracle solution, but as a quiet experiment in gentleness. A reminder that care doesn\u2019t have to be dramatic to be real. I\u2019ll keep you posted, but for now, the eyeliner <\/a>struggle is still my most honest measure of patience.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Life right now is a bit like that. Day to day. \u201cPretty good.\u201d Calm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s become one of our quiet morning rituals. I open the windows\u2014l\u00fcften<\/em>, no matter the temperature\u2014and shake out the sheets. It\u2019s meant to let the house breathe, to move out the stale air before the day settles in. Evelyn waits for the bubble it creates, laughing as she jumps into it without hesitation. I stand there for a moment longer than necessary, letting the cold air wake me up, reminding myself that sometimes all it takes to reset is letting a little fresh air in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I remember the days when it was hard to breathe. I used to long for the moments when I\u2019d have “nothing much to report.” To be in this middle space\u2014where the biggest news is that I spent four days solid shoveling snow instead of going to the Y\u2014is a gift I don\u2019t take for granted. My back would like to formally protest that “workout,” but it\u2019s a quiet kind of pain I\u2019m almost glad to have. It means the storm has passed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Of course, the “calm” is relative when you have a toddler.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Evelyn has started waking up from her naps with a certain… gaseous enthusiasm. She\u2019ll run through the house with what we\u2019ve dubbed the “running farts,” eventually stopping to proudly announce that she is, in fact, “The Booger King.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n But then, she\u2019ll turn around and say something that stops me cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Lately, her go-to advice for me is: “Momma, you can do this. You just need to take a deep breath and make a smart choice.”<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s good advice, especially as we navigate the “middle space” of school prep and the hunt for remote work\u2014trying to find that balance where the math of childcare and savings finally adds up. In the quiet moments between those big questions, I\u2019ve been working on a blanket I started knitting for Emily. It\u2019s not perfect, but it serves its purpose: a way to comfort someone I love even when I can’t be right there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n