Read, Watched, Listened

I love reading just about everything (okay, you won't see any mystery or sci-fi picks on here), watching things that make me think and especially if they make me laugh, and wholeheartedly embrace the podcast. I also enjoy hearing about what other people are reading, watching, and listening. Here's my two cents worth.

P.s: I got rid of the Amazon links and instead have linked to local bookstores. Consider this a gentle nudge to support indie. :)

READ

Kitchens of the Great Midwest
This was so good. I already want to read it again. It took me a little bit to get into—and keeping the characters straight was somewhat complicated at first—but I got one-third of the way through and could NOT put it down. J. Ryan Stradel has a gift at making people come alive on the page. Also I just love the shootouts to things in the Midwest. It doesn’t happen very often in novels and I just adore that Stradel has embraced the Midwest and made it an actual PLACE in his books, instead of some flyover space.

Burn it Down: Women Writing About Anger
This was…fine. Like most essay collections from multiple contributors, some were better than others. Some I skimmed, some I skipped entirely, others left me cheering. I feel like the topic is so important and I wish I could give it a better recommendation, but honestly I could take or leave it.

Once More We Saw Stars: A Memoir
Trigger warning: loss of child. This was a beautifully-written memoir for the most tragic of events. I literally have no other words to describe it than that.

The Dutch House
True confession #1: I am not an Ann Patchett fan. (In literary circles, this is akin to saying you like to murder puppies.) True confession #2: I loved this book. My love for family dramas is well established so maybe that was this one’s saving grace? Each of the characters had their own flaws, but I love a character with good, believable flaws. I also love that this was set around a house. It gave new meaning to the idea of writing about place.

Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind
This was a fascinating, if somewhat dense, read. I didn’t think I was all that into it, and even thought about putting it aside a few times, but something kept bringing me back. I had to read more. The attempt to tackle the whole of human history in a single go is certainly audacious, yet the large brushstrokes Yuval Noah Harari paints with are thought-provoking and sometimes eyebrow-raising—in a good way. I should say that overall it wasn’t dense in a technical sense, more dense in that it is a lot of subject matter to pack into a single book, though he does it amazingly well.

Untamed
I have followed Glennon Doyle for a solid decade now. I remember reading her blog when she had less than 1000 followers. (How do I remember this fact? I guess I was enthralled from the very beginning.) To watch her journey from wife and mother to viral essayist to published author to social activist has been fascinating. This book is the culmination of her past decade’s work. Maybe her life’s work. I found something to cheer on virtually every page. Women need this. Hell, men need this. Buy it. Read it. The end of my fangirling. (For now, not forever.)

Anne of Green Gables series
As soon as social distancing hit (9 weeks ago? 10? I don’t even know anymore.), I ordered this from one of my favorite local children’s bookstores. For myself. I actually began by reading Rilla of Ingleside as an ebook from the library because I needed to read about someone else going through an absolutely insane time in history. Also because that book is comfort reading at its absolute best. Then I got hooked and decided I needed to start all over with the series, with the logical conclusion being that I needed my own set. I have no idea where my own original set went, but these are the exact same books I had as a kid. This has been my pandemic comfort reading. Here’s my quick review of each book (Warning: I’m sure there are some spoilers here.):

Anne of Green Gables
An absolute delight. It’s a classic for a reason. 5 stars.

Anne of Avonlea
A decent follow-up. 4 stars.

Anne of the Island
A decent follow-up to the follow-up. And I love Anne and her friends as college students. 4 stars.

Anne of Windy Poplars
The worst of the entire series, as far as I’m concerned. It feels like it’s just a placeholder until she marries Gilbert and I just don’t care. Stil, it’s Anne. 3 stars.

Anne’s House of Dreams
I adore this one. The new characters, her early married life, the house of dreams itself. 5 stars.

Anne of Ingleside
The whole time I read this one I couldn’t help but think, “THIS IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW." Anne is surrounded by small children, and motherhood looks good on her. I saw some reviews moan that there was too much about her kids in this book and not enough about her, but I a.) disagree and b.) that seems right to me. These are still children’s (or at least YA books) after all. Kids aren’t going to want to read much about the struggles of parenting and marriage, though that shows up, too. 5 stars

Rainbow Valley
A decent continuation of the Ingleside chronicles. 4 stars.

Rilla of Ingleside
Hot take: I’m torn between whether this or Anne of Green Gables is the best in the entire series. Maybe I lean toward this one just because it’s more adult? This follows Rilla (Anne’s daughter) as a teenager living through WW!. Despite the heavy subject matter, it is a delight through-and-through. I’ve probably read this one more times in my life than AofGG itself. 5 very enthusiastic stars.

WATCHED
Tiger King
I mean, did you even quarantine if you didn’t?

The Good Place
We got addicted to this show and then watched three seasons in a matter of weeks. That’s basically unheard of for us. Kristen Bell is a gift to humanity.

McMillions
True crime stories with blood and murder and crime scenes: hard pass. True crime that’s all white collar? I’m ALL IN. This is SO. GOOD. You know you want to see how the McDonald’s Monopoly game was scammed in the late ‘90s early 00’s. It may also make you disappointed to discover that no, you were never actually going to win, no matter how hard you tried for Boardwalk. Also also: you may crave some of those Mickey D’s fries every time you watch. (No? Just me?)

Hillary
This documentary. It’s so good. It’s also depressing. It’s vulnerable. It’s full of what-ifs, especially in the midst of our current pandemic. (And let’s not forget that right before all this COVID stuff hit we had just the chance to have Elizabeth Warren, the last woman standing, get the Democratic nomination.) Sigh. Still, it is so very worth the watch.

LISTENED

There are two podcasts giving me life lately. One is The Daily from the New York Times. They do such a good job at breaking down the news into digestible segments. The other is the Nightly Nuance from Pantsuit Politics. Usually, these are only available at certain tier levels through Patreon, but given the current situation they’ve opened up their Nightly Nuance episodes to all supporters. Their Nightly Nuance coronavirus check-ins help me feel a little less alone, a little less crazy, and have become essential to my nightly routine. Also Beth’s regular Nightly Nuance episodes are so helpful at parsing out individual news stories and tangents. (P.s. they’re scaling the coronavirus check-ins back starting next week. I’ll be eagerly awaiting each one.)

Finding Rest...Not Just Sleep

“But my body doesn’t feel tired,” my daughter says, her bright eyes looking up at me from her pillow, just barely visible in the dark room she shares with her twin brother. She wiggles around; he’s been asleep for awhile now.

“Okay,” I whisper, “But it’s still time for bed. Remember what I’ve told you about falling asleep. Make your body as still as a statue, close your eyes, and think about breathing in...and out. And in...and out. Before you know it you’ll be asleep.”

She closes her eyes, though she seems unconvinced, and I creep out of the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

It’s 7:16 pm and as I silently walk down the hall to my own room to finish putting laundry away, I wonder how long it’s been since my body has truly felt not tired. What would it be like, I wonder, to lay down in bed and not immediately surrender to my pillow and, ultimately, sleep?

Because I do sleep now. Five years ago, with infant twins who woke us consistently every hour or two, when having at least one uninterrupted stretch of 120 minutes was the benchmark for a “good” night’s sleep, when they didn’t sleep through the night until they were well over a year old, I thought this day would never come. Back then, rocking first one baby and then another, I thought such incredibly broken sleep would be my entire life, both then and forevermore. People told me they would grow out of it and figure out how to sleep eventually, but my own sleep-deprived brain, still fully in the thick of it, didn’t believe them.

Though even now it’s not always uninterrupted. Many nights a kid or two steal in to find my husband and me, blessedly asleep in our own bed, because they need to use the bathroom, because they need more water, because they’ve had a bad dream. Occasionally, with three kids, we’ll have a night where I swear they’ve made a deal with each other to wake up at perfectly spaced two-hour intervals, and it feels like the horror of those newborn days all over again.

Still. Those people were right. Most nights, I get the sleep experts say I’m supposed to—the 7 or 8 hours recommended for an adult my age to feel my best. This was the holy grail five years ago, when virtually all I could think about was the next time I would get to sleep, when sleep came in nothing more than stolen fragments in my day. I’ve made it.

So then why am I still so tired?

Read the rest over on the Twin Cities Mom Collective.

When the Light Isn't Where I Left It

I’ve been mulling over the idea of going where the light is.

The thing is, that light? Where it is changes for me. As often as my emotions, maybe, these days. What brings me joy one day (one hour, one moment) can be anathema to me the next. 

Sometimes my kids are the light and the next minute I want to ship them off to Siberia. Sometimes cooking is the thing that steadies me and the next meal I don’t want to chop another vegetable, fry another egg, or mix together flour, water, salt, and yeast ever again. Sometimes I can’t get away fast enough to type up the words in my head and other times I look at an empty page, certain I won’t have anything to say ever again in my entire life. Sometimes I’m so glad Tyson is here and we’re in this together and other times I want to self-quarantine myself away from him. Sometimes I find hope in the grocery store, in the fact that I’m out— free! —from my house. Other times it’s the most depressing place in the world as I walk around and realize we can’t even see each other’s smiles anymore underneath our masks. Sometimes I find the light in the normal, ordinary routine of our days. Other days I want to scream in frustration at the mundane and instead find joy in wearing a nice top and jewelry, in hosting snack time on the front porch, ordering lunch for myself just because.

You see my problem here. It can make things difficult, this finding of the light. It’s not always where I’ve left it.

Still. As I mull this whole “go where the light is” idea over, Albus Dumbledore keeps popping into my head.

“Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

I don’t only need to turn it on these days. I need to actively search for it.

It’s there. I (almost) always find it. Even when it’s not where I’ve found it before.

That breakfast light, though.

A real breakfast with a side of comfort reading.

School as an anchor in our day.

Just look how studious they are.

Unscheduled coffee break.

Unscheduled jump-off-the-Nugget-free-for-all break.

Chaos.

A teacher who captivates them with her videos as tulips listen in.

Lunch delivery. Just for me.

Happy sidewalk art.

Buds budding. The bluest of skies.

Friends who also live in your house.

Snacktime in the living room. (Previously absolutely, positively 1000% forbidden. Here we are.)

Friends who live in your house part 2. This time with LEGOs.

Cheers.

Impromptu PJ dance party.

The magic of books.

That evening light, though.

Flowers reaching toward the light, even as it fades away.

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".

Dear Twin Mama

Dear Mama,

I don’t know if you found out in a way similar to me, in a dark ultrasound room, cool gel over my still mostly-flat stomach, my husband sitting in a chair near my feet.

“Congratulations!” the ultrasound tech said. Or maybe she said, “Surprise!” I no longer remember exactly how she began her announcement.

I am, however, 1000% confident in what she said next: “It’s twins!”

I started laughing. All I could think about was our mothers, both expecting their first grandchild, little knowing it was actually TWO.

My stomach didn’t stay flat for much longer. It grew and contorted, and then grew some more, impossibly more. Mine was lopsided, actually. My daughter, Baby B, wedged herself sideways on top of her brother, creating an egg shape around my enormous middle. It was nothing like the cute little basketballs I saw other expecting mamas carrying around.

Though of course none of this was like the other mamas I saw around me, those with “regular” pregnancies and singleton babies. I mentally compared motherhood to those I saw around me. It’s hard not to. None of this was anything like what my friends were going through.

Read the rest of my love letter to new twin mamas over on Mama Year One.

Week Five

I’ve been writing things down here and there since the coronavirus really started to impact our lives. I’ve shared some of this as snippets on Instagram but if you’re interested in reading more, feel free to read through these lightly-edited words. As this essay says, I’m craving to see what people are thinking/doing/feeling through all of this. Maybe it’s helpful to use my own still, small voice to give some words to what we’re all going through at this moment in time. You can find Week One here , Week Two here, Week Three here, and Week Four here.

+++++

Monday, April 13th
“I've been more aware of the passage of time since Kindergarten began, knowing that at this time next year the twins won’t be in Kindergarten but in first grade, and then second, and so on. Somehow the days of toddlerhood and preschool seemed to shield me a bit more, when our days looked so much the same from one to the next.

I’m acutely aware of their days off of school now, where it feels like we’re just settling back into our normal, three kids snug at home, instead of disrupting what our true, new normal is of packing lunches and backpacks.”

...is a THING I WROTE on December 23rd. Bless my heart.

+++++

I’ve just been assuming, through all of this, that summer is cancelled. I’m assuming they’re not returning to school (though that breaks my heart). I’m assuming there will not be a dance recital (another thing that breaks my heart). I’m assuming there will be no t-ball (again heartbreaking). I’m assuming there will be no PlayNet, zoo camps, Big Chip vacation, or trips to parks and beaches (my heart is gone).

I’ve more or less made my peace with this.

My light at the end of the tunnel is assuming the kids will go back to school in the fall. School even starts really late here this year; since Labor Day isn’t until September 7th, the first day of school is September 8th. It’s about as late as it can possibly be.

My heart is set on this. My dad dared to suggest that the kids wouldn’t even go back to school in the fall and it’s a good thing we’re practicing social distancing or I would have STABBED him. Even though I understand, in the darkest, most remote corners of my brain, that this won’t really be over by then and that NOT returning to school in the fall is an actual possibility, I just cannot even with the idea of it right now.

Though that didn’t stop me from sending Caden and Brooklyn’s teacher an email last week to request they be in the same class again next year. I don’t want to deal with two different first grade teachers for distance learning. Just in case.

+++++

Wednesday, April 15th
Mornings are the hardest. The waking up and the getting up. It’s just the worst.

Back up. Maybe I shouldn’t say mornings are the hardest. It’s the whole getting out of bed part that is.

I’ve never been a morning person. Never, ever, ever. Mornings are only nice in theory. 5:00 am is NOT a nice time. I don’t even think 6:00 am is a nice time. They are dumb times when reasonable people (and children) should still be sleeping.

Still, I used to get up at 6:30. A mere month or so ago when the kids still had things like buses to catch and there were lunches to pack and I had a minivan to drive to places like preschool. There were things to look forward to in the day, or at least in the week.

Forget 6:00 now. Forget even 6:30. Now, even when 7:00 rolls around, I close my eyes against the inevitable like ugh.

The first couple of weeks were different. Then it was like grief. I woke up with anticipation, the sunlight glinting through the blinds, before it would hit me. I would remember, all over again, that this wasn’t just a bad dream. That we couldn’t go anywhere. That coronavirus was a real thing. That the whole world was dealing with this and the kids don’t have school and what bad news would come today?

Now it doesn’t hit me like a revelation each morning. It’s simply reality. Now I wake up and think, “Oh. Here we go again.” And it takes every ounce of strength I have to pull myself out of bed. Even though I just throw on my glasses and some sweatpants and walk downstairs to get coffee. The monotony of our days is it’s own brand of exhausting.

(The coffee helps. So does sunshine.)

+++++

Thursday, April 16th
My moods seem to run in roughly three-day cycles. I usually have a pretty good “this is all fine!” day followed by a day full of “meh” and ending with a “this is awful and terrible and I’m angry and sad and I hate everyone and everything” kind of day.

It’s not always a three-day cycle. I might have one great day followed by three meh days followed by one of pure rage. Meh is more my baseline these days. I rarely have more than one good or truly awful day in a row.

Recognizing the cycle helps. While the good days don’t last, neither do the bad ones.

+++++

Things seem to have leveled off to an extent. Life feels more or less normal now The news cycle has flattened out. A few weeks ago, no matter how often I picked up my phone, I would find new news, new stories, new information. I was getting multiple emails from school each day as they detailed the newest orders from the Governor, here’s when distance learning begins, here’s when you pick up your student(s) materials, here’s your log-in information, here are updated versions of ALL of that.

(And let us never forget the emails from every restaurant and every store and every activity we’ve ever done in the past decade to update us on “here’s how we’re dealing with COVID-19” and/or “let’s stand together in hope” and it got really weird.)

My phone use has flattened off. It’s still higher than pre-COVID-19 levels but not by much. Life certainly doesn’t look how it did “before”, but the new normal has settled in. I KNEW it would, a few weeks ago, I knew theoretically we would all psychologically adjust and yet it seemed impossible at the same time. But, here we are.

+++++

Friday, April 17th
For the record, these are the clothes I’ve been living in:

These pull-on jeans. (Seriously as comfy as leggings but feels like I’m trying.)
These sweatpants.
This bralette. (RIP bras with hooks and adjustable straps.)
These leggings. (Soft and cotton-y. Not squish-you-in supportive.)
This sweatshirt.