Welcome to In a Word, a newsletter that cultivates thoughtfulness, one word at a time. If a friend forwarded you this email, click here to subscribe:
At the start of every summer, some well-meaning people are out here on the Internet banging the drum about making the most of the “18 summers” we have with our kids.
I, for one, was recently emotionally assaulted by a tweet that said something like, “one day your kid will ask you to hold her hand for the last time and neither of you will know it was the last time.” Well, clear my schedule because I’ll be devoting the rest of the evening to weeping softly while watching my daughter sleep.
(This doesn’t just happen in parenting. A close friend and I shared our monthly ritual of wine and cheese at a local restaurant in early March, 2020. At the end of 2020, she moved. A years-long ritual ended, and I didn’t know it was the last time.)
And then there is an even louder backlash, lowering the bar and reminding parents that memory making doesn’t have to mean elaborate vacations, and you aren’t melting your kids’ brains if they watch Cruella every day of summer. (I mean, you paid $30 for it, so that’s just a good return on investment in my book.)
I try to balance both ideas in my own choices. It can be paralyzing to have a “fear of loss” mindset about time with your kids; the stakes are dangerously high if you hear a ticking clock in the background of every rained-out beach day or kid meltdown during your Memory Making Moment™. Granted, they’ll “never be this little again” but that also means the “last time” you’ll wipe a poopy butt or drag a screaming kid out of Target is coming, too. Hallelujah.
We don’t need the added anguish of guilt that we “should” enjoy moments that are frankly miserable, or tedious. Pop in your earbuds (or Air Buds™, as I accidentally said once and will henceforth refer to them) and just get through it.
At the same time, it can be empowering to recognize a window of time and make the most of it. Once we got our second vaccine dose, Mike and I decided to make this a chock full summer. We were itching to see family and friends (indoors!) after a year mostly to ourselves. Book the Air bnb’s! RSVP yes! Get a pool membership! Somewhat uncharacteristically, our summer motto was to “do it all!”
In addition to all this relational and travel catch-up, we have the looming deadline of a new baby. We wanted to capitalize on anything that would be easier (or frankly, possible) with just one kid. We had one last, short summer as a family of three, and we buckled in for a wild ride.
Sharing summer with a kid is a little bit like magic; it’s the closest you can get to reliving your own childhood summers. Sure, I have to do all the sand sweeping and pool towel laundry and sunscreen inventory, but I also get the secondhand joy of Betsy squealing with delight in the waves.
Whether I recognize a time window as finite or not, it is always sweeter in retrospect. No matter how “present” I try to be, there’s just no way to recognize how fleeting time is in the moment. It will always be sweeter to remember your child’s nonsensical questions than it is to hear them in the moment, when you just want to pee alone. For most of this year, Betsy has called the kitchen the “chicken.” When she said “kitchen” for the first time, I felt a pang of sadness and nostalgia. The sweet mispronunciation was all the sweeter for its brief life.
Windows of time are always opening and closing. Even the most permanent parts of our lives will change over time, sometimes through our intentional effort and sometimes without our noticing.
I’ve been thinking about my last summer pregnancy, four years ago, and how the fixtures in my life at that time seemed so…fixed. But, like a high school theater crew hoisting Goodwill furniture offstage in the darkness between acts, much of the scenery of my life has changed while I was staring into the stage lights, thinking about the future. The future keeps relentlessly arriving while I’m scrolling my phone and willing my child to nap and blinking back existential dread on sleepless nights.
When future me looks at pictures from this summer, it will seem sweeter than it was in the moment, after I’ve forgotten the time Betsy declared she would “never be happy again” or when I was struggling to tie my own shoes over my belly.
The past isn’t perfect in retrospect, but precious for its brevity, for its finite windows I often didn’t see closing.
In this issue, you’ll find a memory keeping book, curtains, Nordstrom sale picks, my family travel guru, and plants! Plus a few last links and of course, a benediction.
I recently found the simple, gorgeous “Kept Journal: Childhood, A History” while looking for baby books. It’s clothbound, and has space for the first year but continues through age 18. My mom got a copy for Betsy that I just started (even though she’s four). It’s perfect if you are like me and love to capture but are not scrapbook-y.
The best inexpensive curtains! Also very happy with this blackout shade we got for the “baby’s room” (read: office and guest room, and maybe he’ll sleep there too).
I am shoe-horning this book (Empire of Pain) in here based on the chapter about how the company most responsible for mainstreaming prescription opioids “changed” their drug (Oxycontin) right when their patent was about to expire to maximize profits. This book digs deep into decades of history about this particular family, how prescription painkiller addiction became an epidemic and who is to blame. If you’re like, “pass,” on the hundreds of pages, you can read the New Yorker piece with a lot of the backstory that prompted the book here.
Hello, I am a sucker for sales and their “limited time” nature. Nordstrom’s annual sale is like Christmas in July for me. Just enter it in the record of my ongoing complicated relationship with consumerism. Anyway, there are a few things I love on sale (starting July 28th):
I have the Swift Run X sneakers in black and wear them a ton. I’m not sure if I’ll be keeping the white leopard version for dirt and cheugy reasons. I will assess when it arrives and I can try on. If you want to weigh in, I could use some guidance.
I’ve bought the Moonlight Pajamas in years past and they are incredibly soft and comfortable and near Target prices when on sale.
The Zella long sleeve performance tee is my favorite winter workout (and honestly everyday) long sleeve.
I am excited for my first new pair of booties in a few years! You know, for when I eventually leave the house post baby… (I picked suede, but they also have them in cream and black leather.)
These fuzzy slippers have “postpartum comfort” written all over them.
What can I say? I love a bike short with pockets.
Courtney is one of my guides on going for it with family travel, and dropping the expectations that all will go smoothly. It won’t, and it’s still worth going. She will give you the realistic and loving nudge you need. She has an awesome packing list on her website, and her instagram is fun, plus full of great ideas and inspiration for family trips and beyond.
Few things bring me more joy than plants in a kitchen window. These plants have all been going strong for over a year, some multiple years!
Jade, dieffenbachia, rabbit’s foot fern, pink pot
As someone who grew up just “cutting off” the moldy part of the cheese, I have long been skeptical of expiration dates. I am vindicated.
This easy ice cream cake for Betsy’s birthday was a hit! Also have my eye on these ice cream sandwiches before summer ends.
Whether foggy or clear, may we recognize the windows in our lives for the fleeting wonders that they are.
As always, I’d love to hear what this issue calls to mind for you! Simply respond to this email to share your thoughts with me.
Gratefully, Jacey
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