All The Things, February 2024

Plus, my daughter fell in love?!

“How many sleeps until summer camp?” my daughter asks.

We’re in the car, making the 14-minute drive home from swim lessons. I do not bother attempting the math, giving her the same rehearsed non-answer I’ve provided a dozen times already. 

“A lot of sleeps, babe. It won’t be summer for a long time.” 

She smiles at me in the rear-view mirror. “Do you know why I am SO excited for summer camp?” 

I spy a hint of mischief in her eyes and my mouth curves into a smile against my will. I already know where this conversation is going. 

“Because you can’t wait to see Duncan?” 

“Yes!!!” she yells. 

Last summer, in an effort to secure a few hours of dependable childcare, I signed Presley up for a handful of half-day, week-long camps through our local parks and rec department. I expected her to make some new friends. I did not expect her to fall in love. 

The conversation quickly progresses into talks of marriage, tales of Presley growing up and marrying Duncan and not living under our roof any longer. She wonders aloud if her older brothers will get married before her. She chatters along about weddings and babies and how someday I will be a grandma. I listen and nod, working very hard to not let my eyeballs bug out of my head.

“I’m going to miss you when I live in a different house,” she tells me.

In all my years pining and praying for a daughter, I never imagined her talking about leaving me at age five. 

Her brothers occasionally talk of such things, of growing up and moving out, although their fantasies mostly involve living in an apartment together, working at LEGOland, getting a dog, and eating McDonalds every night for dinner. 

My daughter, on the other hand, seems laser-focused on other things. 

“I’m a bit nervous about having babies in my tummy,” she tells me as we pull into the driveway, as if this is all happening tomorrow, or a month from now, and not—please, God—20+ years into the future. 

I fight the urge to banish these thoughts from her head, to hand her another lollipop and point out a crazy flock of birds in the sky in an effort to distract, to redirect her attention to something less intense. And yet, I know my daughter. She is me, 33 years ago. She will not be dissuaded from this conversation until she is ready.

“Why are you nervous, babe?” I ask.

Her eyes lock with mine in the rear-view mirror. 

“What if I forget to drink my medicine and it’s actually pretty painful?” 

My heart aches at the question, at the sheer innocence of thinking you can cure labor pains by drinking berry-flavored Tylenol in a tiny plastic cup.

I put the car in park, unclick my seatbelt and turn around to face her. 

“Presley, it’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay. I promise.”

I do not tell her that making babies and birthing babies is rarely an easy process. I do not tell her of all the things that could go wrong, or how the medicine is actually administered like a shot you get at the doctor (and not like a shot you get at a bar). I do not whisper a word about all the things I know now, things I didn’t know for most of my life. I do not beg her to stop obsessing over the future, because I know where—or more accurately, who—she gets that from.

“But will you be with me?” she asks. 

“Be with you when the babies come out?” 

She nods. 

“Presley, I would LOVE to be with you when the babies come out of your tummy … if you’ll let me.” 

Her face relaxes. This future promise appeases her. 

“I think I am only going to have one girl baby,” she continues. “Not brudders.¹ Because having one girl will be SO easy.” 

I stifle a laugh as I help her out of the car, taking in the full sight of my one girl: her bright green unicorn t-shirt, her chlorine-soaked hair, her sticky blue mouth tinted from the lollipop she received at the end of her swim lesson. How do I possibly reconcile the sight of my five-year-old daughter—the essence of childhood—already dreaming of our impending separation? I want to freeze time, trap her in a bottle.

“You’re right, Pres,” I smile at her, “Having one girl is so easy.” 

Photos by Amanda Bellamy

And now, onto the links!

First things first: thank you so much for your kind, generous, supportive comments on this post. I try REALLY hard to respond to every single Substack comment, but I found myself feeling v. overwhelmed (in a good, tender, weepy sort of way) to adequately reply to each comment with the depth of gratitude I actually feel. So please accept this (very lame) all-encompassing thank you, thank you, I-cannot-say-it-enough thank you. ❤️

If you’ve been around Coffee + Crumbs for a while, you know that every February we write about love. It is, more or less, the only “theme” we do. Now that we’re publishing on a quarterly basis, we’re hosting Love After Babies right here in Substack. Subscribe here so you don’t miss out. 

Calling all photographers! Fun news: I was asked to be the guest judge for Verily’s winter photo competition (!). The theme is “adventure” — which, as I see it, could take on any variety of meanings. Scaling a mountain? Adventure. Potty training your three-year-old? Adventure. Getting your first tattoo? Adventure! Details here.

“When I start my day alone, with silence and a blank page, I remember that expressing my creativity is a need, too.” This essay by my friend Laura is giving major Create Anyway vibes. I loved it.

Related: after being sold out for over a month (!), Create Anyway returned to Amazon last week at full price, and now it’s back down to $11.57 with—at the time of publishing this!—16 copies in stock? WHO IS IN CHARGE OF THIS?! I don’t know. But go get it while it’s cheap!

I am on a shopping ban until my birthday, which is a real bummer because these maroon jeans are probably gonna be gone by then. Someone else should scoop them up!

What I’m currently reading and/or getting ready to read this month: The Matter of Little Losses by

Rachel Marie Kang

, Playing House: Notes from a Reluctant Mother by Lauren Slater, Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy, Everybody Come Alive by Marcie Alvis Walker, and re-reading (listening to via Libby app) Bread & Wine by Shauna Niequist. 

It’s winter. It’s raining. Cue the board games. Presley is loving Princess Yahtzee, the boys are loving Dude Perfect, and I am still trying to get anyone (seriously! anyone?!) to play Sequence.  

We recently added “watch 20 minutes of Planet Earth” to our pre-bedtime routine with the kids. Presley calls every animal an “eating creature” because, spoiler alert: 80% of this show = animals eating animals. Nevertheless, we are learning a lot and continue to be dumbfounded by God’s creativity. Favorite highlights so far: archer fish (they shoot spit out of their mouth like a water gun to knock bugs off branches 🤯) and a hitchhiking crab who finds love on the back of a turtle. Just … wow.

As someone who co-hosted a podcast before, during, and after the “golden years of podcasting” — this episode was downright fascinating about how the podcast industry is changing.²

I got the C+C team Stanley cups for Christmas and in a surprising turn of events, we practically have an entire Slack channel devoted to making fun of ourselves. We’re hydrated! We’re peeing all the time! We love our big dumb cups. 

Speaking of drinks, I just ordered LMNT after multiple friends have raved about it. Maybe 2024 will be the year I finally take hydration seriously?

Speaking of drinks, part two: we are big fans of the Costco smoothie packs, but let me tell you, I finally tried Daily Harvest and the mint + cacao smoothie is INCREDIBLE. Wowza. Honesty hour: these smoothies aren’t cheap. We only get a 9-smoothie box once a month (six mint + cacao, three blueberry + cacao) which gives us around two “treat” smoothies a week (Brett and I add almond milk and collagen powder and easily stretch one smoothie into two cups). I tried a few fruit flavors in our first box and didn’t like them as much, but the mint/blueberry + cacao combos legit taste like milkshakes. If you want to try it, this referral code is good for $65 off your first box: RE-L6R42K6.³

Currently blessing my inbox:

All the heart eyes! Shoutout to Stephanie for emailing me this picture of our C+C magazine in the wild.

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That’s all I’ve got. What are you reading? Wearing? Cooking? Watching? Tell me all your things!

1. I will be devastated when she learns how to say brothers correctly.

2. Related: Our C+C podcast has been on a (public) hiatus after we spontaneously pivoted last September to give Katie an added layer of privacy. We’re still making episodes in Substack and plan to come back to the main airwaves this spring. I continue to be grateful, for the 100th time, that we are not beholden to advertising revenue (which is at an all-time low anyway, yikes). The freedom and flexibility to keep going on our own terms—even when we are limping along (which we very much are)—is not something I take for granted. (This is a long-winded way of saying: if you’re currently supporting C+C financially, THANK YOU.)

3. This is NOT sponsored (I buy this stuff with my own money!) but full disclosure: if you use my referral code, I get $25 toward my own orders. If nothing else, you could order one cheap box and then cancel. But I should also tell you that was MY plan before I got hooked on a smoothie that tastes like mint chocolate chip ice cream. 🤪