We Are Both Behind and Ahead
By Molly Flinkman | May 2023 Newsletter
You make parenting look so easy.
A new friend tells me this as she nurses her tiny infant on my couch. There is a tiredness in her eyes that I recognize even though it isn’t obvious. I look to the floor where my four-year-old son plays quietly with two guinea pigs and a crate of Magnatiles. It is a Tuesday morning which means my older three kids are all at school and the volume level of my home has lost its regular fever pitch. It is quiet. It is calm. And though I’ve intentionally left some clean laundry unfolded on the couch and a few toys strewn about, this room is clean and vacuumed. The one child home with me tends to play pretty well independently and even though he requires some redirection this morning, he redirects. There are no tantrums or arguments or raised voices. I see what she sees. It does look easy.
She doesn’t see or hear the times I am here with all four of my kids—when the volume levels raise and all our patience wears thin—but I can’t deny the fact that this phase of parenting is easier in many ways. I am no longer physically bound to a baby. We can solve many issues with words and conversations. And when the kids play outside, sometimes I stay inside and read. Our parenting landscape has shifted.
You’re comparing your life to a life five years ahead, I tell my friend. When we had three kids under four, I often ended the day facedown on the carpet, crying.
I tell her about the months our oldest daughter refused to go to sleep each night. About how, every evening, she would scream herself hoarse because she didn’t want to stay in her bed. I remember those nights with clarity, right down to the way the carpet was rough on my cheek when I finally collapsed into it. My husband, Jake, found me there often when he got home from work—resigned to the hard floor and completely depleted just hours before another day was set to begin.
I read in a book* recently that “remembrance kindles hope,” and I feel the truth of this in two ways as I tell this new friend stories from my not-so-distant past. First, remembering refreshes my confidence in my own future. Not because all our problems have magically resolved (bedtime still takes it out of me some nights), but because I know the same grace that met us back then will continue to meet us in whatever is yet to come.
But also, I see the effects of my remembrance on my friend’s face. It lifts slightly, as if she is allowing herself to picture a future when it doesn’t all feel so heavy and exhausting. Remembrance kindles hope. And hope is a light that warms you. When we part ways, I think we both feel a little lighter—a little warmer—all because we took the time to share a few stories between us.
Today I was the person who remembered. I am also always looking for women who have gone before me as well—moms who have lived and endured these ages or kids with similar personality quirks. We can be both people. We should be both people because we are behind and also ahead on any given day. You are always further along than someone, a friend of mine once wisely said. To which I would add, someone is always further along than you.
I think about this the whole rest of the day and each time I pass my empty couch. There are more stories to tell. Will I tell them? To whom will I tell them to? And, most importantly, will my remembrance set hope alight?
*From The Warden and the Wolf King by Andrew Peterson
Sarah’s Balsamic Sautéed Mushrooms side dish is a unicorn—easy, gluten-free, vegan, dairy-free, paleo, and Whole30 approved.
C+C Faves
Exhale opens to new members on May 8th! Curious about our community for creative mothers? Join this free generative workshop on Expanding Your Creative Palette with C+C writer Adrienne Garrison to see what Exhale is all about.
"Even if you’re making terrible art, keep making more.” // An Interview with Maryfrances Carter by Caroline Greb via Ekstasis Magazine
Books on our (collective) nightstands: Stuff I’d Only Tell God, All Who Are Weary, All My Knotted Up Life, Right Where You Belong, Hello Beautiful, Thank You for Listening, Tell Me the Dream Again, How to Keep House While Drowning, You Could Make This Place Beautiful, Flying Solo, and our Exhale book club pick, Spare.
Don’t mind us over here getting a jump start on summer with homemade popsicles (3-ingredient recipe here), oversized turkish towels, and flip flop-ready feet.
“We cannot know what’s beautiful until we’ve stayed with what’s broken. We cannot imagine new futures until we’ve wrestled with our shadows, past and present. We have to be honest about what’s not working before we can get real about new possibilities.” // Be Honest About What’s Breaking Your Heart by Bethany Wilkinson
It’s been a (school) year, and bless Leanne Morgan for making us laugh.
Also, in case you needed to hear this—you have full permission to throw out all those dried-up purple glue sticks taking up space in your junk drawer. We’re giving these glue dots a try instead.
“Is that the real story of Laura Ingalls and her mother, Caroline? Of the pioneer women and girls I spent so much time pretending to be? A story of, simply, women rising to the occasion at hand? Did it even occur to them that they couldn’t handle the circumstances set before them?” // On Power Outages, Laura Ingalls, and Rising to the Occasion by
On our kids’ bookshelves: Chasing God’s Glory, Today I Feel Like a Jelly Donut: A Book About Emotions and 100 Days to Brave for Kids
Encourage the little artist in your life to write (and publish!) their own story with this IlluStory book kit.
“We ignite with excitement every time they experience a ‘first.’ We celebrate each hurdle they overcome as if it’s our own. Our shared investment in their growth is one of the greatest creative works of our lives.” // A Love Letter to Our Future Selves by
Our go-to perfume now comes in a (travel-friendly!) rollerball.
“The single mom who has little support and is parenting alone. The mom whose spouse is stationed overseas, leaving her worried and alone. My mom, who became a motherless mother at 23, who spent every Mother’s Day, holiday, and every day in-between without her mother—while she learned to mother.” // When Your Motherhood Looks Different from Everyone Else’s by
For the painters out there, this Mother’s Day bouquet would look just as stunning on a canvas.
“I guess I just thought by the time I had teenagers, I would have figured out my life. The thousand little repetitions would simplify. I’d have meal planning down to a science, carpool schedules would align without effort, and I’d figured out some system for all the paper in my house.” // The Inefficiency of Motherhood by
A simple pleasure: drinking cold brew in fancy glasses.
ICYMI
Birth month paint-by-numbers kit // 2. It Will Be Ok embroidery kit // 3. Parachute robe // 4. XL tote // 5. Wood arch vase // 6. Scrabble // 7. Kindle Paperwhite // 8. Match cloche // 9. Beach trip candle // 10. A Year in Flowers // 11. Milk Bar assorted cookie tin
Podcast Recs
Our latest episode is on all things hospitality, from the nitty gritty logistics to the right heart posture. Paid subscribers can also find a bonus episode on Substack: Fostering Sibling Relationships.
Per usual, we can’t get enough of Kate Bowler, especially this conversation with Maggie Smith and this one with Mary Louise Kelly on No More Do Overs.
Upcoming Workshops:
Jump Start: 3 Weeks to Write the Essay Burning a Hole in Your Heart with Ashlee Gadd // starts May 27th
Slow Writing & Accountability Workshop with Sonya Spillmann // starts June 5
Critique Group with Callie Feyen // starts June 5
Writing Motherhood Workshop with Adrienne Garrison // June 11
Writing Motherhood: The Braided Essay with Adrienne Garrison // July 16
Essay Edit with Molly Flinkman // Ongoing
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I love this, Molly! I think it's always easier to "see" or notice those who are ahead of us, not remembering and realizing how far we've come.
"You are always further along than someone, a friend of mine once wisely said. To which I would add, someone is always further along than you." I love this line - such an important perspective to keep.