1. Provision: what I see when I balance the books. It’s never extravagant or immediate, but it’s always what we need, when we need it.
  2. Today, I’m that parent at the drop-in center who’s constantly looking at their phone.
  3. Kids’ antibiotics taste way better now than when I caught bronchitis every year.
  4. Fishing versus catching.
  5. Her first scraped knee.
  6. “Summer” is a misnomer. It should be called “The Season When You Shower Three Times a Day.”
  7. Today, I’m also that parent who brings their toddler into the liquor store.
  8. I’m terse with our friends because I’m still in “get things done” mode and can’t shift to “sociable human” mode fast enough. I hate that my default state is bitchiness.
  9. The ache in my jaw is back. In retrospect, it disappeared while she and I were having fun and communicating well. Too bad we’re back in a yelling season.
  10. Giant cowboy steaks and unicorn mini-cupcakes.

PS: Lots of folks are asking about the format for these posts and if they can do them. First of all, yes! Please do! Second, the format is super simple. All you do is jot down 10 things you see, hear, think, feel, or learn during your day. Aside from that, the style is up to you.

PPS: If you’re doing these, let me know! Put a link in the comments or something. I want to see what you’re noticing.


  1. Oh, thank you, God, she woke up happy. I’ll take an early happy wakeup over a late grumpasaurus one any day.
  2. We’re probably always sick because I don’t stop kissing her face or eating her leftovers no matter how many boogers she’s got.
  3. Also possible: My unspeakable theory about coffee doing bad things to my system could be true.
  5. I’m not one to worry much about the messaging in Disney movies, but that “Fixer Upper” song is doin’ me a concern.
  6. Thinking about buying a swimsuit and/or a bra makes me tense with anxiety. It’s been nine years since the former, two years since the latter, and I don’t want to see myself in the mirror.
  7. Ear infection. Amoxicillin.
  8. What was Jesus like as a toddler? I wonder about this a lot.
  9. Mild guilt over not posting to the blog or doing Compel lessons this week in favour of the application. Prioritizing right sometimes feels wrong.
  10. I want a little patio table–just big enough to hold my drink or my feet–for our little deck so I can have a little time outside while mornings and evenings are perfect for a little while.


  1. The backyard looks like a rainforest, lush and green after all this spring rain. I hadn’t realized how much I missed having a yard until now. It’s been over ten years.
  2. I offer him a solution that used to be the bane of our marriage. This time it’s the right idea at the right time for the right reason. The ease of conversation and intangible closeness are proof.
  3. She wakes up with a fever and fiery attitude to match. We have to stay home. I lose my writing day. Furious with disappointment, frustration, and guilt, I yell and throw the thermometer and immediately cry with remorse and apologize.
  4. She’s fine after Motrin and breakfast. Of course.
  5. Reminiscing about when we used to be artists.
  6. I never thought, before I became a parent, that I would–or could–ever be this invested in another person’s poop.
  7. “It’s hell writing and it’s hell not writing. The only tolerable state is having just written.” — Robert Hass
  8. Pretty sure God squeezed me to see what I’d do. Give up when it’s hard or make it work? #sneakyjesus
  9. Night two of milk downstairs instead of in the crib at bedtime.
  10. Transitions.


  1. How do you spell 14? How many Us? Why didn’t I just use numbers like a normal person.
  2. A smoother night, despite the fireworks. A smoother morning.
  3. Forecast says it’s the last cool day before summer starts in earnest. Highs over 25C/77F starting tomorrow. My body is ready.
  4. I tiptoe into the secret place, write my heart out before God, scribble two article ideas onto notecards, and begin studying Matthew all before she starts to stir. Precious time for my soul.
  5. I never could get the hang of holiday weeks. I’m always one day ahead or behind. It’s Monday, right?
  6. She has a fever. She usually hates to cuddle, but we snuggle on the couch watching movies nearly all afternoon. She rests her little hand on my wrist and pats it occasionally. I want to bottle the time, to preserve it so I can really remember how it was when she’s grown and gone.
  7. My hair is long enough I can (barely) pull it back. Time to decide if I’ll grow it or chop it. I’m torn between missing long, wavy hair and the freedom of a fresh pixie.
  8. That feeling when no one wants to eat what you made for dinner, including you.
  9. If the idea of writing just one article for an application is so daunting as to paralyze me, what makes me think I can write twelve for an audience of thousands?
  10. Everything is process.


  1. I sleep in an extra hour. She woke up at 2:30am, standing in her crib chatting to herself, falling back asleep after nearly an hour. I can’t.
  2. Sunlight sneaks around the half-pulled curtain and tilted box fan to play on the wall. It’s the shade of gold I think of as New Mexico.
  3. I sit down to my prayer journal for the first time in a week, ashamed but needing it so badly. The monitor pops on. She’s standing. I start crying. Mourning the loss of time, railing against the increasing friction between momtime and writertime, between two callings that refuse to share custody.
  4. She threw up in her bed. I assume from coughing but we stay home just in case. She coughs all day. Neither of us will sleep well tonight.
  5. Any mention of barf sickness makes me nauseated these days. It’s the stress from imagining being incapacitated like that while caring for a toddler.
  6. I take ginger for the stomach ache.
  7. The day is an unremarkable blur of kid movies and food prep. It’s actually kind of nice.
  8. The fireworks start just as her music ends. I pray she doesn’t wake up. Her sleep is already jacked up enough.
  9. Four days to explain my writing experience, share my passion, state my intentions, and write a 300-word devotional. NBD. *internally screaming*
  10. It’s been so nice having him home with us for the long weekend. I wish I could rewind time and enjoy it better.


  1. Sundays are the hardest for noticing practice. Up early, rush in, full day, squeezing in time with him before the workday disappearance.
  2. Emphasize honor over obedience.
  3. All God’s laws hang on relationship. Ours should, too.
  4. Impostor syndrome cranks to 11 as I read the application questions. I’m struggling to write one devotional for my home church with a small following; how dare I think I can compete to write 12 for a magazine with a large following?
  5. Her nap is one for the (bad) books. I haven’t heard screaming like this outside of actual harm or terror, and I have no idea why it’s happening. I do a good job pretending to be calm.
  6. It’s his birthday today. It passes with only slightly more fanfare than mine did. Parent birthdays are even less of a deal than regular adult birthdays.
  7. Beer, grill, cake.
  8. “Furnishing,” he’d said. The prophetic word from last year echoes in my mind as we’re given a child’s easel after wanting one for months.
  9. Dead tired by 6:30pm. Me, him, but oh no, not her. Or at least that’s what she says.
  10. You can’t trust a two-year old.
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