I do all the school parties and all the costume procurement and then, when the big moment arrives, I sit at home and fold laundry.

My kids are pretty consistently reassured/mortified by the fact that there is no amount of embarrassment that will deter me from taking care of them.

The world is complicated and as I age, I am realizing more and more that it takes courage to admit and accommodate that complexity.

I can feel the movement away from playgrounds and playdates into fandoms and hangouts.

The expectations are so unrealistic that there are days I just want to give up and be an unwelcoming neighbor and an adequate mother and a reasonably reliable friend.

There’s a lot of pressure these days to make summers really, really special for our kids. I constantly see that refrain, “You only get 18 of them!” And it’s so much pressure for perfection.

When I look back on my own ten-year-old self, though, I don’t remember the confidence and verve. I remember having to stand on the precipice of a world that I had no idea how to navigate.

I realized that a small life full of ordinary joys feeds me much more than the alternative.

I remember that what I wanted for my kids was a life where they could have choices.

The world feels scary, chaotic, and new. But I could point to a dozen moments in history that felt exactly the same way.

So, on the one hand, I have inertia about a large, complicated, exhausting process. On the other hand, I have a disregarded space since every other project has been so much more important and urgent and visible.

This spring feels more fraught than the last few, and that’s saying something.

The idea of being completely spent, of pushing myself until all my energy is gone, my creativity completely evaporated. And then, after a spell of feeling completely desiccated, one small trickle of inspiration coming back, heralding a new season of exploration.

So many little routines and habits that are inflexible because there was no reason to be flexible.

In the swirl of life, sometimes I forget the things that give me the space to breathe until I am so out of oxygen I’m barely functional anymore.

I always exaggerate the bad and ruin the calm waters looking ahead to the next rapids. it’s a great plan for keeping everyone alive, but not so much for letting us all enjoy the ride.