Simply Speaking

December 31, 2020

Hindsight is Twenty-Twenty

It could rightly be called The Year We’d All Like to Forget. Or, more obviously, The One Where Everyone Stayed In. Perhaps we will someday remember it as The Year That Few Saw Coming But Everyone is Glad to See Leaving. For me, The Year of One Million Dishes seems pretty fitting.

It was not a good year for weddings or baby showers or postpartum hormones. Not a great one for summer vacations and playgrounds and public pools. Heck, I suppose it was the exact opposite of a banner year for the entire human race.

While our faces were masked, our concerns and cabin fever ran rampant, trampling over our sense of normalcy and taking our dreams for the new decade with them. With shaken sensibilities, we did our best to navigate uncharted waters, some days swimming and some (most) days sinking.

We witnessed real pain. We ached with sorrow for those close to us and even more of those around us. We shouldered our own disappointments while at the same time carrying those of our children, and we pleaded for wisdom because how do you shepherd little ones through hills and valleys you yourself have never walked? We listened to the stories and watched the news, and we kept our distance even when it was hard and even when it hurt.

2020. It could rightly be called The Year From He**.

Yet, this was also the year the baby learned to walk and the toddler started using the potty.

These twelve months were ones that saw the business grow and the PhD program progress. This year played witness to a marriage that celebrated eight years, holding steadfast when so much around it was crumbling to pieces.

Yes, there were one million dishes, but that means there were hundreds of meals; thousands of minutes spent being nourished in both body and soul. Gratitude was given as four “Happy Birthdays” were sung around the dinner table into candle-filled cakes, one of those times the very first for the baby of the family.

This year also saw some personal growth as the matriarch of the family learned to turn up the volume on what matters and mute the things that somehow no longer do. Pandemic Perspective will do that to you.

There was trial and tragedy and an unprecedented gravity that hung over our lives in 2020. Yet there was also an unparalleled grace that hovered over us–one that beckoned us forward even when it felt like there was no way out.

It is only now, as we prepare to close out this most strange of all years, that I can offer 2020 some sincere appreciation, thanking it in hindsight for both the good and the growth that came from the bad. It is also only now, as we physically turn the page to a new year, that I can finally bid it farewell, something I’ve longed to do for quite some time.

So, 2020, allow me (if you will) to offer you this in your final moments:

Thank you. And goodbye.

December 1, 2020

A Different Kind of Christmas

I’ve long been a fan of “stripped down” music. Sub acoustic for electric, nix the background vocals, and give me the song in its raw, pure form. I’m going to date myself here, but the first CD (yes, that’s compact disc for all you youngsters out there) that came to mind as I typed this was a bonus disc included in a 2004 re-release of Gavin DeGraw’s Chariot album. This CD included studio recordings of all the tracks from the original, but in a much simpler format with less instrumentation and production value. It was called, well, Chariot (Stripped), and I’m certain I listened to it way more than its prototype.

Ironically enough, despite my taste in music, I don’t generally adhere to a “stripped down” philosophy in my everyday life. I own a book called, How to Celebrate Everything, and it knows more dog-ears than any other in my collection.

On the one hand, I blame my mother. She is one-hundred percent the most celebratory person I know, and I inherited her jubilant spirit the same way I inherited her nose and the shape of her feet.

On the other hand, there’s no blame needed—this is actually something about myself in which I take great pleasure. I may have, on more than one occasion, been known to stay up until 1:00am the night before a birthday party to perfect balloon garland or agonize over the color of cake icing and other seemingly inconsequential details. But the truth is, details are special, and special matters to me. So, pomp and circumstance it is.

I say all of this as we prepare to head into the 2020 Christmas season, the anticipation of which has been heavy on my heart and in my mind. If this were any other year, by now we would have drawn names for two gift exchanges, chosen a spot for our standing holiday dinner date, and nailed down Christmas travel logistics that would take us North on I-71 to the Akron and Cleveland areas. Yet, here we are, in a year most certainly not like any other, staring down a December slated to have a lot less sparkle than the ones of yore.

This is hard for me. There is a lot of tradition woven into my celebrations, and while I’m not afraid to deviate, most of the time I don’t care to. This is why I watch It’s a Wonderful Life every Thanksgiving Eve as I prep pies and finish last-minute to-dos. It’s why I always choose a Paper Source birthday card for my husband and include a hand-written note with the same sentimental sign-off. It’s building new memories on top of old ones, preserving the things that have always meant the most and layering in additions as I see fit.

If you ask Google what is meant by “stripped down” music, she’ll tell you it means “reduced to its simplest form” or “reduced to the essentials.” As I ponder the portrait of the upcoming holiday season, this feels both accurate and appropriate. Haven’t we been reduced to the essentials all year? Essential workers, essential businesses… travel, shopping, etc. It shouldn’t surprise me to see the holidays follow suit.

Yet, as already mentioned, I don’t really do “simplest form” well. It is, by its very definition, a reduction, which is not how I approach any kind of celebration, least of all Christmas. I want the whole shebang: Mom’s breakfast pie and Dad’s fire, the matching pajamas and Alabama’s 1985 country Christmas album. I want to sit in that familiar circle at my in-laws and shuffle presents back and forth while sipping hot coffee and snacking on frozen cinnamon rolls. (I used to think this was blasphemy too, but don’t knock it until you try it.)

It’s a hard truth for some of us to swallow, but for the vast majority of people, Christmas will look different this year. It isn’t going to be the same… but that’s okay.

I’ll say it again for good measure, for me: this is okay.

I can grieve all that this holiday won’t be while simultaneously looking forward with gratitude to everything it still can be. After all, for my family, this is our first December in our new home, and last year’s one-and-a-half-month old will be a bit more engaged in the festivities this time around, as will his now three-year-old brother.

Additionally, as a person of faith, I know there’s so much more to Christmas than jingle bells and twinkle lights. This holy holiday amounts to something greater than jolly gatherings, baking nights, and even those sacred-to-me traditions that I just don’t want to do without. Most of all, maybe this year, as the non-essentials are stripped away, I can arrive at Christmas morning having more fully prepared room in my heart for the King than ever before. Even without the trappings, we still have the tidings, and they’re still full of a wondrous joy for which our whole world yearns.

If 2020 has taught me anything, it’s that even a “world-class over-romanticizer” (if I may borrow Jenny Rosenstrach’s description of herself in her aforementioned book) can survive with just the essentials. This year, I’m learning to take my celebrations the same way I take my music: unplugged, less cluttered, not so produced.

This may not be my preference, and the details may look different, but things can still be made special—perhaps, to my surprise, to an even greater degree.

April 24, 2020

Chasing the Sun

If I’m being honest, the line between our pre-pandemic life and the current state within the four walls of our home is a blurry one. My therapist husband still leaves for work, and I stay with our two boys who are not yet old enough for school or many other extracurriculars. Our toddler still loves Buzz and baseball, and the baby naps and nurses at his regular intervals.

Also the same is the monotony of our days, although it’s mounting under the restrictions. Cook, scrub, fold, diaper, bathe.

Cook, scrub, fold, diaper, bathe.

The sun continues to meet us every morning, soaking our kitchen in a soft golden glow. Sometimes I notice; a lot of days I don’t. It’s always there, but I’m not always looking.

The more I study, however, the more I recognize: it’s everywhere, this light. After one day, I’m hooked. Focusing on the bright spots betters my mood and bathes the bland in beauty.

The dishes are still endless, and the physical and emotional fatigue I feel is both real and really hard. But, as it turns out, light therapy is pretty transformative.

Chasing the sun is changing me for good.

This post was written as 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 read the next post in this series “Go Where the Light Is”.

June 30, 2019

Better Late Than Never: Ford’s Nursery Tour

I had every intention of posting a tour of Ford’s nursery when he was yet a newborn, but for a variety of reasons (including the fact that we made an out-of-state move late in my pregnancy), it took a little longer than expected for his room to come together. By the time we were all settled in, I was in the throes of early first-time motherhood, and, well, other things took top priority.

This space is now more of a baby-turned-big-boy room, but it is without a doubt one of my favorites in our home. I simply couldn’t let any more time pass without capturing this nursery that has come to hold such significance. It has served as the backdrop to countless nursing and snuggle sessions, and it has seen a lot of firsts in both my journey as a mother and Ford’s as a growing baby and, now, toddler.

I hope you enjoy this special peek into what I’ve come to regard as a sacred space in both my home and my heart.

Without further ado…

This giraffe was used to make our pregnancy announcement back in May of 2017, so he has definitely earned top-shelf status. He’s a Jellycat stuffed animal, which is one of my favorite brands thanks to their superior quality and super-soft materials.

Ford was almost a Chicago-born baby, hence the Windy City print. Chi-town is such a big part of my and my husband’s story, and I love this little ode to the city we called home for so long (including the majority of my time spent pregnant with Ford).

The Columbus print shown above was purchased from etsy, while all of the white gallery frames came from Target. Notice the other Jellycat stuffed animal—this one was a gift from Ford’s first Christmas. Our glider and accent table were also Target purchases, while the white shelves are actually picture ledges from IKEA.

A quick note about these books: Night-Night Ohio was gifted to us by Ford’s Aunt Tessa, and it quickly became a bedtime favorite; the photo book is from Pinhole Press and is a family album that Ford loves to flip through (I especially love that it features out-of-town family members that we don’t get to see in person very often). As for the books partially hidden under the dino, they’re two of the most treasured (and most beautfiully illustrated!) books in our collection: The Jesus Storybook Bible and Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing, both by Sally Lloyd-Jones.

I’ve picked up a few crib sheets here and there, but this one is my current favorite. It’s from Pottery Barn Kids, but has since been discontinued. (This sheet from Crate&kids is similar!) As for the dog, it’s probably safe to say it’s the best purchase we’ve ever made. Ford absolutely loves it, and he sleeps with it every single night.

Our dresser/changing table was thrifted by my husband long before we ever became pregnant with Ford (it was originally in our bedroom). Once I decided to use it in the nursery, it’s mid-century style paved the wave for the design of the rest of the room. The dresser’s flared-legs aren’t shown in the photo above, but our crib and accent table share this same signature mid-century quality.

Other items featured above: The changing pad cover is from PBK (it was a baby shower gift, as was this one, which is especially soft and cozy!). The wire wall baskets were purchased from World Market, and the two-toned ceramic planter is from Crate & Barrel (it’s been a few years since I made both purchases, and I wasn’t able to locate these exact items online).

The monogram “F” featured above is from Anthropologie, and I remember the moment I purchased it like it was yesterday. It was one of the first items we bought for the nursery, and it was especially exciting because it represented our future son’s newly-decided-upon name. The wooden Ohio rattle was something I gifted to Ty on his first Father’s Day (this was a few months before our big move to Columbus!), and the books and toys shown were mostly given to Ford by various friends and family members. The customized felt pennant is yet another etsy purchase I particularly love.

Other things worth mentioning:

The paint color used for the walls is Benjamin Moore’s Gray Owl, lightened by fifty-percent with a matte finish. Most experts would advise against using a matte or flat finish for a wall in a kid’s room (it’s quick to show imperfections and is easily roughed up and hard to clean), but I have come to love this non-shiny look and am so pleased with my decision to go with it despite the warnings. I especially love the way the color looks when the late afternoon sun is pouring through the bedroom window, which is precisely when I snapped all of the pictures for this post.
Our crib is from the west elm x pottery barn kids line. If there’s anything in the nursery I would consider a splurge, this would be it (although I had an amazing discount code at the time of purchase!). The good news is it’s a convertible crib, and you can buy a coordinating conversion kit for a rather reasonable price when the appropriate transition time comes, which means you can get more use out of it per child.

Well, I suppose that’s a wrap! If you’ve made it to the end, thanks so much for joining me on this tour. I hope it has served to offer some inspiration and helped to spark some ideas of your own. My best advice when designing and decorating a nursery? Have fun! Make a budget and a plan, and then have a ball getting after it. If you’re anything like me, you’re going to log a lot of hours in this room, so I think it’s important to create a space in which you truly enjoy spending time.

June 21, 2019

The Longest Day of the Year

Today is the longest day of the year. Ironically, it has also felt like the longest week of the year.

While I was busy hitting the 20-week mark of my pregnancy, my 20-month-old came down with a good old case of Hand-foot-and-mouth. Fevers, rashes, uncharacteristic fussiness, and sleep deprivation abound. I’m pretty sure Ford has logged more screen time this week than he has his entire life, and we’ve done more couch-sitting during this most unwelcome six-day quarantine than I care to think about.

Even still, I’m trying my best to find the sweetness in the struggle.

I know this is temporary, even if it doesn’t feel like it in the day-by-day, hour-by-hour. And I’m storing up visions of Ford making his way to me with arms outstretched saying, “Mama, snuggle you!”—an extra hoarse quality punctuating his already deep voice.

Tonight we ordered pizza and managed to eat outside while Ford played in the yard for a (very) short time. It wasn’t exactly how I had envisioned ringing in summer’s official start, but it was our night nonetheless.

I imagine the coming weekend will include a Daniel Tiger Detox and some hardcore disinfecting. Maybe we’ll even hit the symptom-free mark and make our public re-entry. And a full night’s rest? That sure wouldn’t hurt.

As for today, it’s the longest day of the year. For me this has been true in more ways than one.

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