Writing in Nuggets

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I wish I could tell you I have a solid writing routine. That I wake early to write before the kids wake. Or that I stay up after bedtime to journal about the day. Go to my home office every afternoon while my kids play silently on their own. But none of that happens every day. Heck, most of that never happens at all. 

As a homeschooling mama of two tweens, uninterrupted time is hard to find. It’s not because I don’t prioritize writing. It’s simply because no day looks quite like any other. I don’t have regular times at home alone. My husband works from home. Except when he doesn’t. I don’t have an office outside the house where I can escape. I do a lot of writing at public libraries when my kids are at nature class, dance lessons, or gymnastics workouts. 

For a glimpse at what writing looks like in this stage of life, head on over to the Literary Mama blog!

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The Beauty of Motherhood: A Book for Every Mother in the Trenches

Today, my beautiful friends Kim Knowle-Zeller and Erin Strybis have given birth to a book every mother needs. The Beauty of Motherhood: Grace-Filled Devotions For the Early Years is a book of 84 short devotions, each comprised of a Bible verse, a short reflection, a practice to fill your cup, and a prayer.

I’m no longer living in the early years of motherhood. My kids are eleven and eight. There’s not a day that goes by that I look back on those early days and wish for them again. I loved my babies dearly and I’d do it all over again to bring them into my life, but those early years felt damn near impossible. This book is the very book I searched for and could never find.

All too often devotion books offer hidden judgments or prescriptions. “If you do this, then God will show up.” This book has none of that. It won’t tell you how to parent. It won’t tell you it’s better to to sleep train or co-sleep. It won’t argue that breastfeeding is better than formula. It won’t give you answers for all the questions you have.

Instead, Kim & Erin offer encouragement to see God in the midst of the struggle that comes with motherhood. They lift up the beauty hidden within the mess. From the earliest days of considering pregnancy to the milestone of starting school, this book holds all mothers with tenderness and love. It shares grace with us. It reminds us that we are good enough. That we are the exact mother our child needs.

I am so grateful that my friends have brought it into the world today.

This book will sit with you in the muck of sleepless nights, of lonely times, of seasons of grief, loss or infertility. This book is more than a book. Its words are a gift from God.

You know what else I love about this book? You can get it on Kindle. When you’re up late, or early, or not sleeping much at all, and you’re sitting there rocking the baby back and forth, you can read it without having to turn a page. I read so many books that way when my kids were babies!

Happy release day my dear friends! Thank you for sharing your gifts with the world.

Included links are affiliate links.

The Long Devotion: Poets Writing About Motherhood [A Personal Reflection]

I bought a hard copy of The Long Devotion after a Senior Editor at Literary Mama asked me to write a review. The book sat on my nightstand for months collecting dust. I kept neglecting it because it hit too close to home; the poems and essays stirred up too many emotions I didn’t want to handle. When I finally made it a priority, I read it slowly; just a few chunks at a time. I found myself wanting to savor the words. To sit with them a while; let them change me.

I finished reading it on a rare evening alone. Ironically, I was at the beach, having just journaled about how I should give up writing again, when I read an essay by Molly Spencer. After reading the first line, I found myself nodding vehemently. Spencer writes, “When I was in my late twenties, I made a decision: a decision not to be a writer. … I sensed that an artistic life would be all-consuming and that motherhood would be all-consuming. I didn’t think I could do both, and I chose motherhood.”

I, like Spencer, didn’t believe I could do both. But even as I tried to ignore my identity as a writer, I could feel a deep inner desire for the time and space to write. It was not something I could ignore, no matter how hard I tried.

The poems and essays in The Long Devotion reminded me that writing isn’t optional; it’s essential. I can’t wait for the perfect time to write. Instead, I have to write when I can. Accept that it will be fragmented, and trust that it will all come together when the time is right. It’s nearly impossible for me to write uninterruptedly in this stage of life. To wait for the right time, though, is to close up an essential part of who I am as a mother writer. Even if it's only a few sentences a day, it’s better than none. And eventually, all those sentences will add up. 

This week, my book review came out in the March/April 2023 issue of Literary Mama. Writing a literary book review felt like an impossible task, but thanks to the encouragement and advice of incredible editors, the final product is a thousand times better than the original. I hope you’ll head over to Literary Mama and read the review, and then find a copy of The Long Devotion: Poets Writing About Motherhood. I’m pretty you’ll like it. And it’s highly possible it will change the way you think about your creative life.

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Don’t forget to check out Soul Munchies on Substack! Each month I send a free newsletter, where I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. You can also sign up for a Premium Subscription, where you’ll get even more goodies every month.

The Big Kid Table [The Darling Files 003]

It’s been a few months since I’ve waken a Darling from its slumber. This was written as part of a Freewrite Workshop with Exhale Creativity and Sonya Spillmann. It’s been asleep since for over a year, but with my kids growing more and more independent of me, it felt like an appropriate time to bring it out.

We went to a cookout at our neighbor’s house, where I sat in a chair, drinking my margarita-from-a-can, and talked to people I mostly didn’t know about nothing in particular. I usually hate small talk, but after a year of isolation, it felt good to sit in the presence of other people. 

A toddler ran to where my daughters and two friends were playing with five huge wooden dice. A tiny chubby hand grabbed the die out of the bright green grass like it was a toy block. The older girls screamed a chorus of “No! We need that!” and the toddler’s mom came running to save the day. My oldest, queen of compromise, offered the tot an extra die. “Here, have this one,” she said, in an attempt to make the babe smile. 

On the other side of the yard was a three-year-old boy, chasing balls and running full speed ahead. His mom stood on the edge of the patio, eyes on him like a hawk, ready to swoop down and grab him when he fell and scraped his knee. I relaxed in my chair, rocking back and forth, remembering the days of diapers and endless supervision. There isn’t a day that goes by that I miss those crazy days of babyhood.

“I rolled three twos and two fives. What can I do with that?” my daughter asked. I came out of my remembering and shifted my thoughts to back to the game. 

“Did you take your twos?” I ask.

“Yes, and my full house.”

I tell her I’d take my three of a kind and remind her to add up the total of all five dice for her score. This stage of life feels empty sometimes. Without the constant chasing of tiny feet I’m left to mostly sit back and watch. I’ve given them roots and now it’s time for their wings to grow.

And perhaps it’s time for me to find wings of my own. 

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This is the third post in The Darling Files, a project initiated by my friends Rachel Nevergall and Callie Feyen. You can read more about The Darling Files from Rachel here and from Callie here.

You can read more of The Darling Files here.

How to Prepare For Your First Mammogram [The Darling Files 001]

1. Go to your physical appointment. “Now that you’re forty,” your doctor says, “let’s get you scheduled for a mammogram.” It’s okay to laugh at her choice of words. Let’s. She won’t go with you and hold your hand when your boobs are smashed. 
   

2. When you get home, put the referral in your box of important papers. Immediately write “make mammogram appointment” on your to-do list. Then ignore it. Pretend you are too busy to pick up the phone. If you avoid it, it might go away. [But probably not]. Repeat this once a week. For three weeks. At least.
   

3. Text a friend. Ask her to check in to make sure you’ve made the appointment. When she texts you at 9am the next day, promise her you’ll make the call before dinner.
   

4. Dig through several piles of important papers to find the referral. Type in the number as your heart races. There’s no reason to be afraid.
   
   You are put on hold and now have a decision to make: hang up and try again later? Or wait? Once you’ve hung up the phone you likely won’t call again. So you wait, hoping someone answers before a child [or husband] needs you.
   
   You hear the same recording over and over again. When it finally rings, your heart skips a beat. A brute woman answers. Don’t let it jar you. The first available appointment at the office by your house is two months from now. You don’t want to wait that long. Tell her you are willing to drive twenty minutes for the one in two weeks. Get it over with. 
   

5. Fill out the screening questionnaire. The first part is easy. Height. Weight. How many pregnancies have you had? The next question gets tricky. Who in your family has now, or has ever, had cancer? Race through the Maternal side. You’ve known these answers for years. Your mom’s battling cancer. Your Grandpa died of lung cancer.
   
   You’ll get to the Paternal side and realize you don’t know. You vaguely remember your grandmother had cancer, but you haven’t spoken to that side of the family in years. Send a text to the only number you have on your dad’s side. An aunt. 
   
   When she replies, sit down. Your Granny died of recurrent breast cancer when she was sixty, first diagnosed in her early-fifties. Two great aunts also battled it. And several cousins. 
   
   You feel like someone has punched you in the gut. 
   

6. Search Doctor Google for “breast cancer risk factors.” Mayo Clinic has a great list [and is a reliable source]. Out of fourteen factors listed, check six. Be glad you made the appointment. Wipe the tears gushing down your face.
   

7. On Mammogram Day, wear your sexiest black underwear [aka superhero cape]. The lace makes you feel invincible. If they find an evil villain, you’ll be confident it will be one you can fight.

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This post is inspired by The Darling Files: a new project started by my friends Rachel Nevergall and Callie Feyen. You can read more about The Darling Files from Rachel here and from Callie here.

Read more of my Darling Files here.

Seven Steps to Cure Loneliness

1. Say hi to a stranger on the church pew. When you lose the phone number she gives you, spend hours searching for her on social media. Bravely send her a message and set up a lunch date.
   

2. Send a text to your college roommate, whom you haven’t talked to in years. Tell her you are thinking of her. That you miss her and wonder if there’s a way to reignite the spark between you.
   

3. When you wake one morning jolted from a dream about a friend you haven’t talked to in years, send her a note. “I had a dream last night and you were in it. I miss you. I hope things are well.”
   

4. Send a direct message on Instagram to a woman you went to college with, but barely know. “I’d love to be friends in real life,” you can say. “Would it be okay if we shared phone numbers?” 
   

5. When you receive a text from a high school friend apologizing for something that happened twelve years ago, respond graciously. Say thank you. Forgiveness and grace are beautiful things. Life is too short to not accept them.
   

6. Go on hikes. You never know when you might run into that person who has been following you on social media. When you do, you’ll hug each other like you’ve known each other forever, and you’ll become fast friends.
   

7. Don’t be afraid of disappointment. Sometimes people won’t respond and your heart will be broken. Other times you’ll end up with the best friends you could ever imagine. You never know the outcome when you take the first step, but if you never take the step, you’ll increase your chances of being lonely forever.

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "With a Little Help".

P.S. Exhale is open for enrollment until September 30. Are you a mama striving for creativity? If so, this may be just the place for you to find your spark!

Where We're Reading This Month

I had so much fun with last month’s photo essay on where we’re reading that I thought I’d do it again this month. Here’s a glimpse at where (and what) we’ve been reading lately.

Towards the end of August, we said farewell to all of our visitors. While very sad to see them go back home to Georgia, I did enjoy the return of routine and quiet in the house. I made a cup of coffee, frothed some milk, and sat down to finish This is How It Always Is for my book club.

Early in the month we took a trip to Concord, my favorite town in all of Massachusetts, and found this adorable little used bookstore, where we read about castles and whatever other books we felt like picking up off the shelf.

We started our new homeschool year right around the same time the weather started cooling off, so we’re doing a lot of reading and narrating on the back porch. The Courage of Sarah Noble is the first Literature book for my third grader. Sometimes I’ll read it aloud to her and listen to her narration, other times she’ll listen to the audiobook and narrate to her iPad.

We’re also doing a lot of reading on the couch of the spare bedroom we’ve designated as the “School Room.” The fifth grader and I are reading The Witch of Blackbird Pond for American History and are learning so much about New England culture in the process. She prefers to narrate upside down.

Every morning, they wake up and eat a bowl of cereal while they read. One has just about finished the Wings of Fire series and the other is in the middle of reading every Betsy & Tacy book she can find.

When Queen Elizabeth died, I was ashamed of just how little I know about the British Monarchy. I searched my shelves for books I own that might help me understand how the monarchy came to be and made quite a large stack of books I’d like to read sooner rather than later. I’m starting with London by Edward Rutherfurd.

Leo (and Autumn) really love reading Our Island Story and learning about the history of King Charles I. Sadly, most everything I know about British History I’ve learned through teaching my kids.

With September comes the start of fall activities, which means we’re spending a lot of time in the car. While my oldest is in a dance lesson, the youngest and I read about Benjamin Franklin.

Then she did her math lesson while I read I Will Always Write Back: How One Letter Changed Two Lives. I can’t remember where I first heard about this book, but it’s quite a delightful read.

I was elated to discover the local library stays open until 8pm two days a week, which means I can hang out and read until time to pick up the youngest at gymnastics.

One night, when feeling particularly overwhelmed with the busy state of our family calendar, I ignored all the to-dos on my list and took The Long Devotion to the beach. I’ve been reading this very slowly since April. I kept putting it down because it hit too close to home and stirred up too many emotions I just didn’t want to handle. But I made it my priority this month to finish it. And it met me right where I was, in all of my confusion and despair and wonder if I could really mother and homeschool and write all at the same time. Mama writers, I highly recommend. 

D has had to go to the office several times this month, so we’re doing a lot of reading on the living room couch while the puppy naps by the fireplace. We finished The Magician’s Nephew this week, while one kid crocheted and the other worked on a paper castle.

Sometimes homeschool life is really hard, but sometimes it’s glorious. Like those days when it’s nearly perfect weather, so you pack your books and head to the local castle by the beach for a picnic lunch while quietly reading I Will Always Write Back, Betsy-Tacy, and Heaven to Betsy.

Fall weather has blown in and I am loving wearing yoga pants and cozy sweatshirts while reading The Moor’s Account.

Tell me friends … Where — and what — are you reading this month?

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On The Threshold

She stands on the threshold,
bare feet on rocks;
cap on cranium, 
hands on hips, 
baby in belly,
toddler secure on the sand.

Waves lap at her shins, 
cooling off her torrid skin, 
calling her to go deeper;
waves like the placenta
keeping her baby safe inside.

She walks to deeper water,
leaving her toddler at the shore;
allowing cool water to envelop her,
letting the ocean protect her,
giving her strength to carry on.

Photo by Timothy Meinberg on Unsplash.

All the Permission I Need

It’s Sunday morning. Father’s Day. My oldest has a dance recital at 3pm and I have the day planned out. She has to arrive at noon, with makeup and hair complete. At 9:30am, my Mom (who’s visiting from Georgia), my daughter, and I head to the local bookstore to grab a gift for her dance teachers. I know what I want, I just haven’t had time to shop this last week. I made homemade loose leaf tea, with dried strawberry tops, rose petals, tulsi basil, and mint and I want to include a tea strainer, a candle and a small bar of chocolate. After their busy year of teaching, the gift I most want to give is that of relaxation.

When I arrive home at 10:00, I find my youngest lying on the couch in front of the TV. Daniel Tiger is meeting Baby Margaret for the very first time. At almost eight-years-old, she only watches Daniel Tiger when she doesn’t feel well, so I know something’s up. “Are you okay?” I walk into the sunroom and feel her forehead. She doesn’t have a temperature, but I can tell from her eyes something is wrong.

“My ear hurts. Really bad,” she says, pushing tears away with her tiny fingers.

“On a scale of 1-10, how bad?” I ask. She raises her two hands and shows me eight fingers. This is my kid with high pain tolerance, so if she’s saying eight I know it must be bad. “I’ll call the doctor,” I say, grateful that our pediatrician has weekend hours. “Maybe they can see you before they close at noon.”

The nurse tells me they have an opening at 11:00.  I glance at the clock. It’s 10:20 now. One hour to get her sister ready and feed her lunch before we leave to get to the theater on time. “Can Daddy take you to the doctor?” She shakes her head no.  Sobs start heaving from her chest. “Okay,” I say gently, before calling to her sister in the other room. “Let’s do your hair and makeup real fast; I need to take your sister to the doctor.”

I race up the stairs with her trailing close behind. She wets her hair in the shower. I hastily grab her hair and makeup supplies. When I start brushing her hair, she says, “Don’t rush, Mama!” reminding me that trying to make a perfect bun in a rush never turns out well.  I take a deep breath and try to slow my spinning mind. I finish her bun and check the time. 10:45. It takes 5 minutes to get to the doctor’s office.

“I can start your makeup, but can Gramma do your eyes?” I’m grateful my Mom is here today; happy to let her take on some responsibilities. I rub foundation into her ivory cheeks and notice huge crocodile tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

“Can’t Daddy take her?” she quietly asks. Hair and makeup has become a sacred ritual between us on dance performance days. She’s promised she’ll always let me help her, no matter how old she gets. I’m heartbroken to be pulled in two today.

“Would you want Daddy to take you to the doctor if you didn’t feel well?” Doing my best to keep my voice steady, I put my finger under her chin and tilt her head up to look her in the eye.

“No,” she says. “I guess not.”

“If I take her now, I should be home in no time. Don’t cry, or your makeup will run.” My stomach churns. She’s always anxious before performances. I want her to feel confident today, not disappointed or sad. Catching sight of the time—10:52—I stay positive. “Let’s see how much I can do before I have to leave.” Trying to stay calm, I apply blush and begin the work on her smokey eye. At 10:55, I tell her to let Gramma do her mascara, ask my mom to help pack her bag, and rush her sister out the door.

The doctor sees us as soon as we arrive. After a quick glance in both ears, she diagnoses a double ear infection and calls a prescription in. “Her sister has a dance recital today,” I say; “Is she okay to attend?” The doctor nods, informs us it’s not contagious, and sends us on our way.

Walking to the car from the doctor’s office, I text my husband. “Feed her lunch. I’ll be home in five minutes to finish her makeup.” When I get home, I apply a final coat of mascara and spray another round of hairspray. My mom did a fantastic job, but I can’t help but want to put on the final touches. I drop her at the theater. Then send my husband to pick up the prescription while I fix myself lunch. 

An hour after the recital begins, I notice my youngest holding her ears. “The music is too loud,” she says; “it hurts my ears.” Looking at my watch, I realize the ibuprofen I gave her earlier has just worn off. Of course I didn’t bring any with me. I ask her if she wants to slip outside for a bit, but she shakes her head no. She loves watching her sister dance and doesn’t want to miss a beat.

We make it to intermission before she breaks down into tears. “I just want to go home,” she cries. We’ve come to the car to get away from the sound. There’s probably just over an hour left in the recital, but she can’t bear to stay any longer. 

“I can take you home, but I have to come back to pick them up.” I wipe tears from her eyes and tell her I’m sorry she feels bad. “Is that okay?” She nods her head and buckles her seatbelt. Grateful that we only live twelve minutes away, I text my husband to tell him I’ve left my purse in the theater and I’ll be back to pick them up. 

“Okay; be safe. Make her a snack.” I drive home, careful to obey the speed limit. Once we arrive, I have her put on pajamas while I prepare another dose of medicine. I give her a bowl of canned peaches and a sleeve of saltines, and help her snuggle under a blanket on the couch. 

“Can I watch Doc McStuffins?” she asks. 

“Sure. Daddy just texted there are only four dances left. We’ll be home in less than an hour.” I tell her to message me on her iPad if she needs anything, kiss her forehead, and race out the door. Devastated that I missed my oldest’s final dance, I get back to the theater just in time to catch the curtain call.

Three days later, I’m sitting at the table with my husband eating lunch. We just dropped my mom off at the airport and I’m making a list of what needs to be done before we leave for vacation in two days. “One kid wants me to take her to the craft store. I have three writing deadlines to meet. Both girls have haircuts, one has gymnastics, and my book club meets tomorrow night.” I spit it all out with barely a breath in between.

 “You love book club!” He looks at me and smiles. 

 “I do, but I feel like there are too many demands on my time.” I take a few bites of my salad, thrown together with leftovers from last night. “Sunday about killed me. I am exhausted. So much happened. Everyone needed me. Now my Mom has gone back to Georgia. The to-do list is a mile long. I’m sad. I haven’t written in days. I’ve been going through the motions and haven’t stopped to allow myself to feel.”

 He looks at me with crystalline eyes, unsure of what to say. In his silence, I continue. “If I got paid for my writing work, I would go in my office, shut the door, and meet my deadlines, right?” He nods his head. It is all the permission I need to leave dirty dishes all over the counter, send the kids outside and the puppy downstairs, make a cup of iced coffee and seclude myself for the afternoon.

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Like what you see here? Sign up for My Favorite Things. Each month I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. This month’s newsletter hit inboxes this morning and features a special guest essay all about recipes and motherhood!

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This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Permission Slip".

For Everything There Is A Season

For everything there is a season and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time for Chicken Pot Pies covered with special messages and hearts …

and a time to throw away the frozen pizza burnt to a crisp in the toaster oven because the brand new puppy had to pee;

a time for doing lessons in the living room with a puppy in your lap …

and a time for taking the lessons to Panera so you can get things done without the puppy;

a time to complain …

and a time to laugh

a time to buy more hair and makeup supplies than you ever thought a kid could need …

and a time to fill your Trader Joe’s buggy with every impulse item you can find;

a time to try to work at home in your writing room …

and a time to escape to the local coffee shop to actually get the work done;

a time to eat oranges and chocolate made by your daughter …
(when you throw out your back and are stuck in bed)

and a time to teach her how to make tomato sauce from scratch;
(so next time you’re stuck in bed you can have a real meal)

a time to rest …

and a time to walk;

a time to stretch …

and a time to wait;

a time to do your own experiments …

and a time to let them experiment on their own;

a time to come inside and do your writing assignment …

and a time to stay outside making mud cakes;

a time to drink coffee in peace while you read…

and a time to drink coffee in the midst of total chaos;

a time to notice tiny moments of beauty all around.

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Like what you see here? Sign up for My Favorite Things. Each month I compile all my favorite things—articles, recipes, links to read, and sometimes even a playlist—and send them straight to your inbox. This month’s newsletter will come out next week and you don’t want to miss it!

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This photo essay is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Still Motherhood".