New Year, Same Us (I Hope)

Every January I sit down with my notebook and write the same ambitious list. Run a half marathon. Organize the junk drawer. Learn to make homemade pasta. Read twelve books. Be the Pinterest mom who meal preps on Sundays and never yells about lost soccer cleats.

New Year, Same Us (I Hope)

This year feels different though. The notebook is open, the coffee is steaming, and I’m staring at a blank page with no idea what to write. Not because I don’t have goals - I have approximately forty-seven things I should improve about myself. But maybe that’s the problem.

quiet morning moments

Marcus keeps refilling my coffee and not asking what I’m thinking about, which is one of the reasons I married him. He knows when to give me space to figure it out. “Be better,” I finally write. Not at anything specific. Just… better. Better at being present when Theo shows me his twentieth rock collection. Better at remembering that Sophie is six and doesn’t need to be perfect. Better at letting Marcus help without micromanaging how he loads the dishwasher.

putting hope on paper

coffee refills and quiet support

Maybe the secret isn’t making lists of what’s wrong with me. Maybe it’s just showing up and hoping that’s enough. Here’s to 2017 - may we all be brave enough to be better, whatever that means.