On Not Being Where You Thought You Would Be (or Starting Again, Again)
by Sonya Spillmann | February 2023 Newsletter
I am so annoyed with myself.
I signed up to write this newsletter intro sometime in the fall of 2022—back in September or October, though I really don’t remember—when my headspace was clear and the kids were starting school and my entire life seemed filled to the brim with possibility. I thought by the time the holidays were over: I might have queried agents. And, if I’m being painfully honest and embarrassingly confessional: By February, I might even have a book deal.
Oh, friends. [Insert: deep sigh.]
If I have a toxic trait, it’s that I love February. It’s my birthday month and I don’t know if it’s some weird mental muscle memory of growing up in the Midwest, where my special day was a bright light in an otherwise dark winter, but for as long as I can remember, the calendar moving past January fills me with joy.
Last year, signing up to write here in February felt right. It felt good. It felt hopeful.
Also, this is a big year for me. I am turning a profoundly middle-aged age. An age my high school friends and I are only referring to as quatro-cinco. An age that seemed impossible and theoretical when my kids were babies and all I did was eat handfuls of Cheerios and the remains of rice cereal with pureed pears. Yet here we are. I’ve known this group of friends since we were twelve. We took a big trip together when we turned forty, and we hope to get together again this year to celebrate, too.
After some jockeying around about who has the most time, I hesitantly volunteered to look up Airbnbs and come up with some options, despite my total lack of administrative or decision-making skills. It’s been months, and we still have no date, no destination. Nothing.
A few weeks ago, one of these dear friends left a message admitting to ‘just feeling off.’ Was it our age? Our season of life? The weather?
I sympathized. Because I’ve felt off for years. I laugh when I write that, but it’s true. I can’t seem to keep up with my kids, my house, my body, my dishes, my work, let alone my friends, my clothes, or my TBR list. I question my purpose regularly and wonder why I feel constantly behind.
In almost every aspect of life, I’m not where I thought I’d be by now. Both in the last six months and along the outstretched horizon of time.
When the New Year rolls around each year, my husband, Chris, and I like to sit down together to talk through our goals. Some of it is personal. He wants to do a triathlon; I want to write a book. We talk about our spiritual lives, our emotional stirrings. We also usually discuss our budget, house projects, and most years, how the two of those things never quite line up.
The other night, Chris asked, “When are we going to have our meeting?”
“It’s February!” I laughed. That ship has sailed, my friend.
“Oh come on,” he said, grabbing his toothbrush. “We can still talk.” I looked at him and thought, But can we?
I love February because it’s my birthday month. But maybe I also love it because there’s some muscle memory reminder that I can always start what I wanted to do in the past, again.
I may never be on top of our calendar, or who needs what size shoe/pant/underwear next. I might always have an inbox full of unread messages and a minivan empty of gas. It might take months longer than I expected to write query letters and years more to accomplish a professional goal.
But I want to say this here, now, because writing down the truth helps me remember—Lord knows it’s too easy to look back and forget. And I want to say this here, now, because I believe I am not the only one who feels chronologically mature, but chronically behind.
Maybe it’s personality. Or maybe it’s an age. Maybe it’s a stage or a season. Or maybe it’s just … life. And maybe feeling on top of it all isn’t actually the goal.
Maybe living each day as it comes, is.
Love,
P.S. If anyone knows of a weekend getaway on the East Coast for six middle-aged friends who want to be in bed by 9 p.m., feel free to message me.
A hearty, comforting, and clean dinner recipe: Sarah’s Slow Cooker Curry Stew with Chickpeas, Sweet Potatoes + Kale
C+C Faves
“It was the most magical hospitality I’ve ever had the privilege of showing another human.” // On Breastfeeding and the Ache of Endings
The Beauty of Motherhood (co-authored by our very own Kimberly) is available for pre-order (!!).
Books on our (collective) nightstands: Spare; Work, Parent, Thrive; Signal Fires, Come from Away, Raising Emotionally Strong Boys, French Kids Eat Everything, The Every, What Happened to Rachel Riley?, and our Exhale book club pick, Solar Storms.
Sometimes, you just need a solid barf bin (that stores easily under a bed).
“This. Weaving of community, attention, engagement, caring, shared focus in the name of something that is not “productive,” but beautiful. This is art.” // Art Monster via
New additions to our pantry: City Girl coffee and vegan garlic & parmesan popcorn.
These makeup remover pads can be reused (up to 500 times!) and recycled.
“May they stand as reminders of the bodies that carry our souls so far, through the treacherous terrain of Barbie doll expectations, filters and fillers, scalpels and knives, and touched-up ‘realities.’” // To Old, Beat-Up Suitcases via
Give yourself the gift of vintage flower art, sticker style.
A roundup of recipes we have in rotation: one-pot spaghetti-o’s & meatballs, crock pot picadillo, no-knead bread, lemon spinach risotto, and instant pot greek yogurt.
“What I hope, particularly amidst adults’ incessant push to consume and then ruthlessly declutter, is that they make and keep things, too.” // Archiving Your Teen Self via
Add extra love to the kids’ breakfast with heart-shaped confetti pancakes (with whipped cream!). If waffles are more your style, this waffle maker makes adorable minis to fill their bellies and melt their hearts.
“You are more than your social media spaces.” // Social Media & The Algorithm of Fear via
A chemistry set meets a marble run in this bath toy—great for the kiddos who aren’t ready to give up playtime in the tub.
“But in that bathroom before that ultrasound, I wasn’t trying to remember a specific memory. I was straddling a before and an after—standing with my feet in two places at once—and I just wanted a minute to breathe it in before everything changed.” // Throwback Thursday via
Be the Bridge’s resource for celebrating black history month with young kids is excellent.
A simple pleasure: this bubbly probiotic Cherry Hibiscus Tea has all the best mocktail vibes.
Podcast Recs
This podcast gives an insightful look at raising boys and girls from two therapists’ perspectives, and we especially appreciated this episode on “Giving Kids Purpose.”
Emily Jensen talks motherhood, grief + disability, human limitations + rest in this episode of Sunny & 65.
Upcoming Workshops:
Reading Well, Writing Well II: Building an Author’s Toolbox with Callie and Sonya // starts February 6th
Writing Motherhood: The Braided Essay with Adrienne Garrison // February 25th
The 4-Week Writing Circle with Adrienne Garrison // starts March 4th
Freewrite Workshop: The Art of the Micro-Essay with Sonya Spillmann // starts March 6th
A Year of Content: Guided Planning Session with Callie Feyen // Download
FYI:
Coffee + Crumbs has always been a reader-supported publication.
If you’d like to support our work, help us make mothers feel safe, known, encouraged, and loved—and receive exclusive bonus content, like access to our Dear Mothers column, please consider signing up to be a paid subscriber:
You can also gift a subscription to a friend:
Or sign up with friends to get a group discount:
Paid subscriptions are not meant to be a barrier; they’re simply meant to help sustain our work. If you cannot afford a subscription to Coffee + Crumbs and want one, please email hello@coffeeandcrumbs.net and we will take care of you, no questions asked. ❤️
Know someone who would love this newsletter? Feel free to share it with a friend!
 | A guest post by
|
How often is it that we have these desires to get together with our girls those who know us like no one else does. Those that knew us before kids. But we are exhausted just trying to decide what is for dinner and the idea of trying to navigate all the details of even a girls night out can seem like the world's tallest mountain. Especially in the little years. Maybe when they are older it will get easier.....
I can definitely relate to not being where I thought I would be. Seems to be the story of my life at the moment. Thanks for these words. I need to be living each day as they come.
On a planner note (hi, it's me, I love planning!)... what about Charlottesville, VA? In college, a group of interns and I drove from DC to Charlottesville for a college football game, and I remember it being a really cute town. (Granted this was almost 20 years ago, so my memory is fuzzy.) Years later, I went back and visited Dave Matthew's vineyard, because, well, I was in a phase of DMB obsession. Vineyards and in bed by 9 (maybe 8:30?) sounds amazing. Happy planning! ;)