Monday Milestones and the Magic of the Mayhem

Hello, friends. The house is finally settling into that soft, late-afternoon hush that I’ve come to cherish so much. Mark just pulled the truck into the driveway—right on time at 5:20—and I can hear the familiar sound of his work boots thudding on the porch. Biscuit is already doing his happy-dance at the door, his tail hitting the radiator with a steady rhythm that always makes me smile. It’s been a full Monday, the kind that feels like a marathon even before you lace up your running shoes.

This morning started with the usual chaotic symphony of a household with two young children. Noah was particularly insistent that his velociraptor pajamas were the only suitable attire for eating oatmeal, and Emma was busy negotiating for just five more minutes to finish a drawing of a pony on the back of her summer bridge math packet. I watched her for a moment, her tongue poked out in concentration, and I realized how much of my own self-worth I used to tie to a perfectly clean house. Now, looking at those crayon marks, I just see a little girl finding her joy.

Once I got them settled, I managed to squeeze in a two-and-a-half-mile run before the humidity really settled over Cedar Falls. I’m still aiming for that Harvest 5K in October, and today was one of those days where my legs felt heavier than usual. I kept thinking about what Megan told me during pickleball on Saturday—that the strength isn't just in the speed, but in the showing up. I’m not the fastest woman on Sycamore Street, but I am moving, and that feels like a victory in itself.

After my run, I spent a few hours in the kitchen working on a new batch of 'Lucy’s Little Light' candles. I’m experimenting with a 'Harvest Hearth' scent—think dried cloves, orange peel, and a hint of the cedar shavings I always smell on Mark when he comes home. It’s a slow process, waiting for the wax to hit just the right temperature, but there is something so grounding about the physical labor of it. It’s my own little corner of the world where I get to build something from scratch.

I took a break to check on the petunias, and sure enough, Joanne was out in her pink bathrobe, deadheading her flowers with the precision of a surgeon. She waved her garden shears at me and shouted a compliment about my hair. I had Dani refresh my color at the salon above the bakery last week, and I’m still getting used to feeling a bit more polished. It’s a small thing, a bit of vanity perhaps, but it makes me feel more like myself—more like the woman Mark looks at with that soft, tired smile when he gets home from a long day at the site.

Speaking of Mark, we had a quiet moment this morning before he headed out at 5:30. He caught me in the kitchen while I was making his coffee, and he just held me for a second. In the rush of nine years of marriage, two kids, and a mortgage, those three-second hugs are the glue. I spent a long time thinking about that while I was pouring candles this afternoon. Financial growth and personal goals are wonderful, but the security of being truly known and desired by your partner is the real wealth.

I also had a quick chat with Mom. Diane called to check in on the kids, and I told her about Emma’s horse obsession. She promised to come down next weekend to help me with the garden. It’s funny how the roles shift as we get older; I find myself looking forward to her advice more and more, even if I still roll my eyes when she tells me I’m working too hard at the hardware store. Tomorrow is a Miller’s day, and I know Mr. Miller will have a stack of invoices waiting for my red pen.

I pulled out my robin-egg-blue journal this afternoon to jot down a few thoughts about the week ahead. Megan really knew what she was doing when she gave it to me. Writing things down makes the goals feel less like dreams and more like plans. Whether it’s hitting my three-mile mark by Friday or finally getting the Etsy shop inventory organized, seeing it in ink makes it real. We are all works in progress, ladies, and that is a beautiful thing to be.

Dinner is almost ready—just a simple pasta bake tonight because Mark is exhausted and the kids are already asking for snacks. I’m going to put the phone away and be present for the noise and the mess. It’s easy to wish for the quiet, but these are the years we will look back on with the most longing, I suspect. The little blue house is full of life tonight, and I am so grateful to be the one holding the keys.

I hope you all found a moment of peace today, even if it was just five minutes with a cup of tea or a quick walk around the block. You are stronger than you think, and you are doing better than you know. Growth doesn't always have to be loud to be significant. Sometimes it’s just the quiet choice to keep going when the path gets steep.

I’m going to go help Noah find his 'raptor claws' now. I love you. — Lucy