We limped across the finish line of summer. I won’t paint a detailed picture of the tedium, but here are some snippets that capture the vibes:
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Friend: [asks how I am]
Me: Well, I’ve got Ki Jae in front of the TV for two hours so that I can livestream a memorial service and then have enough time to properly fall apart afterward.
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Monday: We stay home so I can do chores and household management. Kids whine a lot.
Tuesday: I vow to be a better mom and commit to taking a picnic to the pool. The actual responses were “I don’t want a picnic” and “We go to the pool too much”.
I want to give them a happy childhood, but I might just be creating entitled jerks instead. Of course, I maturely responded by snapping at them, “Soooo do you just want to stay home then?” We were not our best selves.
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The me of my Summer Hours post in June was so optimistic about serving the greater good. The me of September is relieved it’s over. So, sometimes in our house we accumulate weird serving sizes of food. What do you even do with one third of a can of beans? I like to serve it all on these cute dessert plates we have and call it “tapas”. Consider this post the equivalent of an Emily tapas platter, clearing out the mental fridge to make room for a fresh start to a writing season.
I want to acknowledge my Okie-ness in calling leftover beans “tapas”. Somewhere, Spaniards are weeping. But as someone who rebranded “nachos” into “chips with cheese” so my kids would eat them, I’m telling you, marketing is everything.
(Haha, see what I did there with the strategic placement of the subscribe button….ok, moving on)
On having a shaved head: The maintenance is unbeatable. The emotional price is higher. I had to get rid of 98% of my hair to realize that I am deeply attached to it. I’m proud of myself for taking a big risk, societal norms be damned. I am also a little embarrassed at how much I want my hair to grow back.
Something that strikes me as deeply significant is that I had very short hair right after Maya was born. It took me about 3 years to grow it down to my chest. 3 years from now, whether I have longer hair or not, my entire life will be different. Ki Jae will be in kindergarten, I’ll probably be working, and this chapter will be closed. All of which is to say: time keeps moving, whether you want it to or not.
On the spiritual crisis: It’s still there. You can live indefinitely with a vacuum in your head. Right after I published the appendix, I re-read Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller. This book first came into my life when I was teaching in North Carolina, so I guess maybe I’ve been in spiritual crisis longer than I thought. This new copy is a treasure since it was given to me by a friend who has been a guide on my current journey. I’ll share two lines that made me laugh aloud:
“Don’t hold grudges against any other churches. God loves those churches almost as much as He loves yours.”
“I felt like my Bible was calling me. I felt this promise that if I read it, if I just read it like a book, cover to cover, it wouldn’t change me into an idiot, it wouldn’t change me into a clone of Pat Buchanan, and that was honestly the thing I was worried about with the Bible.”
On Maya’s teacher shortage: Her school started the year with all four 1st grade teachers. I don’t know what magic happened, but I’m glad someone decided the extra tarts were OK. Maya’s teacher in particular has been a blessing to us. In Maya’s own words, “Mrs. Teacher is loving, but she has too many rules.” I imagine that’s what our kids say about us too. I have been so thankful that her teacher is so good, and it feels like part of me is still exhaling a long-held breath. Part of me is inhaling to hold my breath for next year when we enter the charter school lotteries in February. What a freaking circus.
On social media: I quit! Or at least deactivated. The most surprising thing is how much I don’t miss it. I can’t over-recommend quitting. No surprise surges of anger. No hateful glee or urge to gossip when you see news about old acquaintances. No clicking the screen and thinking that passes for actual connection. It didn’t make me a better person, but it certainly decreased the time I spend as my worst self. I’ve also rediscovered texting and calling people again. Like, actually talking to them. It’s pretty awesome.
On Being Wifey: I’ve been a ministry wife for four years, and now I’m entering my Tami Taylor era as a coach’s wife too. Ki Jae is playing soccer, and his dad is…trying to keep everyone from crying too much at practice. I found myself shaking hands and holding babies last Saturday on the sideline, and it’s just dawned on me that “coach’s wife” is an actual role with actual responsibilities.
Ten years ago, I liked James because he suggested fun things like going to Bonnaroo, or biking downtown. Now we are discussing how to build a sideline culture and how many pom poms to buy. It’s great. All of it. I loved us then, and I love us now. As we descend into stereotypical Texan life, I can’t help but wonder if an F150 is next, or maybe some Wranglers.

That’s it, that’s all you get. I never said the tapas would be filling. My brain is agog at the idea of stringing together more than a couple hundred words on one topic. We’re out of practice. I just missed you guys and wanted to say hi, and I hope to be back with a heartier story next time.
PS: My friend Mattie Jo published her book! God, Sex, and Rich People is out today, and you should only buy it if:
You’ve ever been shamed by Christian youth culture. Examples include being peer-pressured into “dating Jesus”, being blamed for boys’ general horniness because you were showing your shoulders at church, or in my case, being told you would “give your pearls to swine” if you had sex before marriage. (That’s not what that verse is about. I found that out about 20 years later.)
You would like to understand why people are turning away from the church
You like to laugh, maybe until you cry
For real though, she is a brilliant writer, and you won’t be able to put it down. Cheers to you, MJ, I’m so excited for you on this big day!