I do have confidence in sunshine.

Helping Tucker plan his sophomore schedule and reading a tall stack of senior scholarship applications, I notice myself wondering how all these young people seem to know who they are. Like I am 45 and aside from some flesh-bound manifestation of motherly love and maybe some stardust I have not a ton of confidence in who I am.

I like to sneak the cat leftovers at the back door.
I refuse to use actual moments of my wild and precious life reading a bad book. 
But I will waste them cleaning the floor?

If Tolliver does not grow up to be a major league baseball star, he'll be very happy working as a park ranger and/or a history museum curator. Tuck's still interested in aquaculture but he'd also make a pretty solid piano accompanist. And Hank's current plan is to be an artist.

I am really good at rolling up a deflated air mattress and fitting it back into the original box.
And I am, apparently, the lady who not only feeds sourdough starter but also bakes and takes pictures of her bread?
I like to write.

Living with these three boys feels like a ready-made story factory, and most of the time I don't even know how to tell them all.



the good things are the subtle things

After the 83rd day of January and the apparent beginning of mud season, the yoga instructor repeated that phrase a few times yesterday. The good things are the subtle things.

Like two extra minutes of sun every day.
Like requests for more broccoli at dinner and then for "those leftovers" at breakfast
homemade necklaces and unicorn drawings from preschoolers
lego motors that move cars, chocolate with pop rocks, rubiks cube lessons online
and a small pickle jar of sourdough starter left on the porch
Like the sound of tiny nanodrone blades whirring from the basement, magnet beads snapping together and floor puzzles to step around
an overnight with the girls who helped me become a good teacher and who walked me into new motherhood
Like fresh stromboli from next door, ready to be popped into the oven after the busy evening run arounds
Like three deep breaths.

The good things are the subtle things.


an entire snow weekend