Tuesday Tools And The Tides Of Toddler Triumphs

Hello, friends. I’m sitting here at my little kitchen table on Sycamore Street, the late afternoon sun casting long, golden shadows across my robin-egg-blue journal. The house is temporarily quiet, a rare feat for 5:45 pm, but Mark just pulled into the driveway after a long day at the construction site. I can hear the rumble of his truck and the distant sound of Noah shouting about a 'T-Rex sighting' in the backyard. It is these small, predictable beats of my life that keep me grounded when the world feels like it’s moving a little too fast.

Today was one of my days at Miller’s Hardware, and if you’ve been following along, you know exactly what that means. The moment I stepped through the door at 11:00 am, I was greeted by that familiar, comforting scent of fresh sawdust and motor oil. Mr. Miller was in a particularly chatty mood today, showing me a new shipment of weather stripping while I balanced the books. There’s something so steadying about the financial side of a small business. Seeing the numbers line up gives me a sense of control that I sometimes lack when I’m trying to negotiate with a four-year-old about why we can’t wear velociraptor pajamas to the grocery store.

Speaking of those pajamas, Noah had a bit of an adventure this morning. Before I headed out to work, he decided that Biscuit needed to be a 'stegosaurus.' I found my poor, patient golden retriever covered in green construction paper scales held on by scotch tape. It was ridiculous and messy, and for a split second, I felt that familiar prickle of stress about the state of my living room. But then I looked at Noah’s proud face and Biscuit’s wagging tail, and I realized that these are the memories I’m actually working for. The mess is just the evidence of a childhood well-lived.

I managed to squeeze in my 5K training run early this morning, right as the sun was peeking over the horizon. I’m up to three and a half miles now, and while my lungs still protest a bit on that final hill near the high school, my legs feel stronger than they did two weeks ago. It’s funny how self-worth works. For a long time, I thought I had to be perfect to be proud of myself. Now, I realize that the pride comes from the effort, not the outcome. Every time my sneakers hit the pavement, I’m telling myself that I am worth the time it takes to be healthy.

The Cedar Falls Harvest 5K is getting closer, and I’m starting to feel that nervous flutter in my stomach. It’s been years since I’ve done something that was just for me, something that didn't involve being a mom or a wife or a bookkeeper. But when I’m out there running, I feel like Lucy again—the version of me that exists outside of all those titles. It’s a good feeling. It makes me feel capable, and dare I say, a little bit desirable. I even caught Mark looking at me with that certain glint in his eye when I walked back into the house all sweaty and red-faced this morning.

After my shift at Miller’s, I swung by Sweet Magnolia to see Megan. The bakery was bustling, but she managed to slip me a lemon blueberry scone and a quick hug. We talked for a few minutes about our pickleball match this coming Saturday. I think I’m finally getting the hang of the ‘kitchen’ rules, though Megan still beats me three games out of four. Seeing her reminds me of how important it is to have women in your corner who cheer for your wins and laugh with you through your losses. She’s the one who encouraged me to keep the Etsy shop going, even when I thought I was too busy.

Speaking of 'Lucy’s Little Light,' I have a table full of 'Fresh Linen' and 'Morning Cedar' candles waiting to be poured tonight. I’ve seen a steady trickle of orders coming in since last week, and looking at that growing Etsy balance makes me feel a quiet sense of independence. It’s not just about the money, though the extra savings for our anniversary trip are nice; it’s about the fact that something I made with my own hands is sitting in someone else's home, bringing them a little bit of peace. Nine years with Mark is coming up fast, and I’m so excited to celebrate all the versions of 'us' we’ve been since we said ‘I do.’

Joanne was out in her pink bathrobe again when I got home, deadheading her petunias with the precision of a surgeon. She waved a gloved hand at me and told me my garden was looking 'spirited,' which I think is her polite way of saying I need to pull some weeds. She’s a hoot, but she reminds me that life doesn’t stop being beautiful just because you get older. You just learn to appreciate the flowers more. I want to be like her one day—content in my own skin and my own backyard.

I’m finishing this up just as the smell of dinner—tacos tonight, per Emma’s legal decree—is starting to fill the kitchen. Mark is currently grappling with Noah in the hallway, and I can hear Emma in her room, probably drawing horses on the back of her math homework again. My heart feels very full in this moment. We aren't rich, and our lives aren't flashy, but we are building something real here. We are growing in the margins, one hardware receipt and one candle pour at a time.

If you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed tonight, ladies, please remember that you don’t have to do it all at once. You just have to do the next small thing with a little bit of love. Whether that’s folding a load of laundry, answering one email, or just taking five deep breaths, it counts. You are doing a better job than you think you are. You are worthy of the space you take up in this world, and you are more than enough exactly as you are right now.

I think I hear a taco shell shattering on the floor, which is my cue to go. Mark just walked in the kitchen and gave me that tired, happy wink that makes all the long hours worth it. I’m going to go be with my people now. I hope your evening is filled with exactly the kind of peace you need. I'll check in with you all tomorrow after I get some of these candle orders boxed up and ready for the post office.

I love you. — Lucy