A Catalog of Mercies
Tallying the graces that are saving my life these days, plus a collection of delights for May
One of my talented writer friends, Molly Flinkman, recently wrote a beautiful piece titled, Grace, Eleven Ways. I was touched and inspired by her eagerness to catalog nearly a dozen mercies throughout an otherwise grueling season of motherhood.
Fast-forward several months and I, too, find myself in a difficult season of motherhood, making it through most of May on a series of small mercies, alone.1
This is my attempt to tell the truth, to show you who and what carried me through, to highlight the hope in an ordinary-but-also-grueling-in-its-own-way season.
(Thank you, Molly, for going first.)
one
My husband Joe grabs a few dress shirts, his razor, and his toothbrush and shoves them all in his small, blue carry-on.2
“Don’t forget Kitty!” my four-year-old says, placing her orange and white stuffed cat tenderly into the suitcase. “I don’t want you to be lonely in Connecticut.”
“Oh, yes. Kitty and I are going to have so many grand adventures,” he says, even though he and I both know he’ll be sitting in board rooms attending back-to-back trainings, and Kitty will likely never see the world outside of his suitcase.
Joe blows each of us kisses and hurries out the door to catch an Uber to the airport.
I run a bubble bath for the girls, read them Five Little Monkeys exactly three times, and tuck them in with their favorite stuffed animals before collapsing into my own bed. I drift to sleep thinking about Joe, soaring through the air somewhere between Minneapolis and Hartford. Two hours later, I wake to the sound of my four year old screaming from a nightmare and, while it takes only a few minutes to get her back to sleep, I spend most of the hours afterward wide awake, hearing phantom crying, reaching over to Joe’s side of the bed half expecting to find him there, asleep.
It is three in the morning when my hand finds a small, soft object on the other side of the bed. I bring it closer to my face to study it in the dark—a tiny stuffed puppy. I figure my four year old must have tucked it under the covers earlier, when I wasn’t looking. I smile at her tender heart, at her insistence that everyone feel comforted and secure. Only then do I roll over and fall back asleep.
two
The next morning, my toddler wakes up with a raging case of pink eye. I send my husband a picture and text my friend for advice before stripping everything from the crib mattress and throwing it in the wash.
I am struggling to wipe my daughter’s eye clean when my phone pings, and two new messages flash across the screen.
From my friend: If there’s a lot of goop, doctors usually want you to come in so they can prescribe eye drops.
Crap. There is a lot of goop.
From my husband: Of course this happens on the first day of my work trip.
Of course. Of course it does.
I call the doctor as soon as they open and, mercifully, they have one available appointment remaining. I thank the nurse profusely and tell her I’ll take it before hanging up, relieved.
three
I text my mother-in-law Kim that the toddler has pink eye and she shouldn’t come over to help, but she insists. That afternoon, she arrives on our doorstep with an entire quiche, cookies, candy for the girls, and a bag full of toys, crafts, and books. She has somewhere important to be, but she stays late to watch my oldest so I can take my toddler to the doctor without wrangling multiple children. She drives to the pharmacy and waits for the prescription to be filled while I feed the girls a hot dinner I did not have to make. She gives me advice on how to best administer eyedrops in a gentle way. She tells me she will be back tomorrow.3
I am exhausted, and I can’t shake the thought that it’s only day one. I have not heard from my husband all day, and I imagine how exhausted he, too, must be from the time change and his jam-packed schedule. But despite everything, the girls and I go to bed with full bellies and full hearts.
four
The next few days are scattered with small mercies like breadcrumbs leading the way through the woods. Kim teaches my oldest how to make paper airplanes while I take a glorious, uninterrupted nap. The toddler’s pink eye clears up surprisingly quickly. We cancel play date after play date, but spend hours playing Pooh Sticks at the Creek, instead. We make a double batch of homemade play dough and add glitter, just for fun4. We bike to Starbucks for some “Girl Time”—cake pops for the girls and a cold brew for me.
five
The night my husband flies home from Hartford, I am just sitting down with a book when my toddler wakes up screaming, inconsolable. She is yelling, “Owie, owie, owie!” like a broken record. I unzip her sleep sack, check her diaper, look over her entire body, take her temperature—nothing. I look in her mouth to see if I can spot any new molars. That’s when I notice her tongue—it’s covered in white spots.
What is even happening?!
I wrap her in a blanket and rock her in the dark, frantically texting my friends to see if they have any leftover thrush medicine.
This is oral thrush, right? White spots in the mouth? Painful? Doesn’t want to swallow?
My husband’s flight lands, and he sprints through the entire airport to snag an Uber and hurry home. He bursts through the door and does not even change out of his dress shirt and khakis before scooping the crying toddler out of my arms. He is exhausted, too—I see it in his eyes—but he rocks her for hours, calls the nighttime nurse line, and spends the rest of the night dozing on the couch, making a dozen trips in and out of the toddler’s room to rub her back.
Hero doesn’t even begin to cover it.
six
The next week is filled with three more doctor’s appointments (none of them are conclusive) and a string of sleepless nights. My toddler refuses to eat or drink nearly everything, but thankfully, applesauce pouches are enough to keep her sufficiently hydrated5. Joe’s boss allows him to work from home more than usual. My four-year-old makes it to her last preschool class of the year and her long-awaited first Twins game before she, too, falls ill. A friend surprises us with a bag of treats, tea, toys, and a book we’ve been wanting to read for months. She did not know we’d had our eye on this book, but here it was anyway.
“Awww, I feel so loved,” my daughter says after opening the care package. She pronounces loved, wuved.
I think of something our friends once said after they brought our family pizza during a very difficult season, something along the lines of: “My hope is not that you’ll see us as so great and so generous, but that you’ll be reminded that this is how God, Himself cares for you.”
What they meant: God gives us more than what we ask for, generously, and He does not ask anything from us in return. We receive, and we live out of the gift.
“I feel so loved, too, Baby,” I tell her. I really mean it.
seven
Half of our family remains sick on Joe’s birthday and still, between running to Target for more tissues and Pedialyte and wiping runny noses, we celebrate in the biggest ways we can muster. We order chicken biryani and garlic naan from the local Indian restaurant. We plant pastel verbenas in the window boxes. The girls and I make a blueberry crumble and whipped cream and lick the beaters clean.
That night, I light the candles and begin to sing. The girls join me, off key and lilting. The toddler claps and the four-year-old peers disdainfully at the crumble’s almond topping before bursting promptly into overtired tears.
I motion for Joe to continue on, and he pauses for a moment before blowing out the candles.
I wonder what he wished for—perhaps for no more tantrums on his birthday, or maybe for more sleep, or just one week of blissful health, or the ability to go back in time and actually attend any number of the May events to which we were invited.
He opens his mouth and interrupts my thoughts. “Wow, this has been such a great birthday. Thank you.”
Wait, I’m sorry…what?
Seeing the shock on my face, he counts on his fingers all the things he cherished about the day.
I should have known—all he sees are the mercies. He always does.
There are two things I’d like to mention, at this point. First, Molly’s story is about a terrifying solo hospital stay with her son, while mine is more like: “Local mother struggles to solo parent a mildly sick child, has dramatic amounts of self pity.” I feel like I need to make this distinction clear before I begin. Second, to all the parents who are solo parenting much of the time or all of the time, especially those who live far away from family: I see you. I thought about you one hundred times while my husband was away. You are doing incredible, exhausting work. You deserve all the support, care, and love we can offer.
I will never not be amazed at how men are able to pack for a week-long trip in under ten seconds, flat.
May we all be mothers-in-law like Kim one day, Amen.
Ultimate evidence of me trying to be a “Yes Mom” for once in my life.
Only applesauce pouches for six entire days. The good news is, we only spent approximately one trillion dollars on Go Go Squeeze. (And the maker of applesauce pouches rests happily in his grave.)
learning with littles
A snapshot of what the girls and I are learning together in our day-to-day:
You better believe we’re in full-on summer mode over here. We do continue with some themed units in the summer as we have time/energy, but it’s a lot more hit and miss since we prioritize traveling, outside time, swimming, and playing with friends.
My four-year-old has been fascinated by insects, lately, so we’ve been reading all about them, doing some journaling about ants, and completing 1-2 math or reading activities before spending the rest of the day outside (and/or spending the day on the couch next to the plastic bin which my oldest so endearingly calls her “frow up box” because, let’s be honest, that’s how most of our May went).
Not pictured: My girls spending hours outside making “roads” and “homes” for the ants and also the time I mildly traumatized my oldest by telling her that her newest ant “friend” would die if she didn’t rescue him out of the water table ASAP. All in a day’s work.
This month, we learned about: gardens, seeds, and insects. If you’re interested, you can find more of our homeschool content here.
beautiful words
In no particular order, here are some words I read this month that deeply resonated with me:
-I’ve been loving Joy Sullivan’s Substack, Necessary Salt, particularly this one where she discusses the myth of good writing. I relish having someone further along in their writing journey admit there is no secret sauce to writing, except to put your butt in the chair and do it. This pep talk from Maggie Smith is equally encouraging.
-Amanda Roth’s poem The Bear settled deep into my bones. Going on a Bear Hunt is an oft-read book at our house, and I love how she writes of the bear hunt as a metaphor for walking with our children through the world.
-Will I ever stop talking about Maggie Smith and her latest book? No, no I will not. This conversation with her is no exception.
books / podcasts / shows
A list of things playing in my ears, sitting on my nightstand, or streaming on my tv:
-I finished You Could Make This Place Beautiful in two days. I typically do not have the tendency to hang onto memoirs when I’m through with them, but this is one I wanted to flip over and begin again, immediately. Smith’s prose and motifs are breathtaking, not to mention, she’s hilarious, winsome, and brave. I wish I could be friends with Maggie in real life.
-I also re-read Maggie Smith’s Goldenrod, and adored how she walks us through beauty and pain. Here is one of my favorites from this collection.
-I listened to the We Were Three podcast while running this month, and found it fascinating. It’s the story of how Covid tore apart a family, but also revealed its long-hidden secrets. Other things playing in my ears include Ready For It by Taylor Swift and a couple Jonas Brothers hits like Waffle House and Summer Baby (what kind of time warp am I in?!? No idea).
-The third season of Couple’s Therapy with Orna Guralnik came out! I’ve been obsessed with this show since Season 1. Anyone who knows me well knows I love all things mental health, psychology, attachment theory, trauma, and therapy. Guralnik is a true force of nature, and the way she is able to intuit the inner workings of a relationship is fascinating.
-Joe and I watched A Man Called Otto, the film adaptation of Fredrik Backman’s novel, A Man Called Ove. In some ways, it was difficult to wrap my mind around Tom Hanks’s character as a crotchety old man but his performance was, nevertheless, stellar (obviously). Overall, I found the movie really endearing and thought Marisol’s character was the star of the film.
feeding the fam
Here’s a rundown of some of the family favorites that showed up on our table this month:
-Pasta Primavera with Asparagus and Peas from NYT Cooking was so delicious—the perfect light dinner for crossing the threshold from spring to summer. Did the children love the green stuff in their pasta? Absolutely not, but as my four year old has been saying lately: “That’s how life goes.”
-Sesame Ginger Orange Chicken Salad. All you need to know about this salad is that it is deliciously crunchy and not at all time-consuming. Sign me up.
-Turkey Meatballs are the perfect thing to freeze for the nights when I have zero desire to cook (which is pretty much every night in the summer, but I digress). Make a double batch of these and freeze half! Boil pasta, dump a jar of marinara over the top. Done.
the little things
A list of some little things I’ve been loving:
-My girls get the world’s worst mosquito bites and it is 100% my fault for passing the gene on to them. Have you heard of Skeeter Syndrome? (No, I’m not making this up and yes, it’s the dumbest name) It’s a whole thing. All that to say, mosquito bite prevention is kind of a big deal around here just for the general summertime comfort of my kids. I snagged these lightweight pants and these rashguards on sale for both of them to wear in buggy/woodsy areas without getting eaten alive. #highmaintenancefamily
-I found a pair of running shorts that don’t ride up and are really comfy for running! I’m working on this Couch to 5K plan and it’s been a really fun, mild goal (did you know Maggie Smith talks about this app in her memoir? Lolol I told you I’m obsessed).
-My toddler is turning TWO in a couple weeks and I’m absolutely in denial. For her birthday, I picked out this board book, this little outdoor wagon, and this rainbow streamer.
words I’ve written
Here are some of my own words put to paper this month:
-This poem is so dear to me, and the Coffee & Crumbs team kindly featured it this month.
-Issue 3 of Part-Time Poets comes out tomorrow! We also had a special Mother’s Day Issue this month. You can read it here.
-My third collection of poetry came out this month! This collection features four poems about changing perspectives.
Thanks for reading, friends. Tell me: what small mercies are you cataloguing, these days?
Love,
Krista
I finally had a chance to sit down and read this and I just loved it so much. 💛 “A Catalog of Mercies” -- yes💛💛 Also can’t wait to go through some of your Maggie Smith recs and I need to watch A Man Called Otto now.
So lovely and relatable. I've lost count of all the last minute cancellations we've had to send out this last month (year?) too, but there really is always grace. And that Maggie Smith poem. Wow. Loved reading this!