internal weather report

A few feelings on a Thursday.

Trying something, taking it all less seriously (but not less personal). Hopefully, my normal December letter will arrive sometime later this month.

that’s a wrap

Spotify Wrapped, the annual irresistible packaging of all the data Spotify has collected about you, dropped yesterday. Everyone loves their Spotify Wrapped, even if they know it’s pure marketing/feel it’s cringe/share it ironically. We can’t help ourselves. But I came here to talk about what Spotify Wrapped means for moms. For the last few years, the release of my Spotify Wrapped has triggered a rant about the inequity of kids’ music listening. This is not a load equally shared between parents. Somehow, it’s only the moms’ Spotify record that gets cluttered up with whatever music your kid(s) is into: Frozen, the Spidey soundtrack, kids trap, and so on. Surely it’s not that dads refuse to play the songs their kids request (at least it’s not that way in my house); surely it can be explained by pure math, a formula of hours spent with children. But over the years, I’ve learned that even for full-time working moms, the distribution of kid listening is still sharply imbalanced.

Well, this year, my Spotify Wrapped emerged untainted by my children’s most-played and I felt…nothing. For once, I had the complete picture of what I listened to, a line graph of feelings charting my year, and it didn’t gratify me. Instead, I thought about what this shift means: that my hours apart from my children have increased, that my interest in music woke back up a little, that the distance between me and the baby years is only widening. I’m not saying I want to go back to Prince of Egypt soundtrack ruling my top played songs, but the only trace of my kids’ listening this year was Jimmy Eat World (my five year old’s fave) and that just feels so old, so grown. Not to be all one day you’ll pick your kid up for the last time and you won’t know it, but time passes and everything changes and sometimes you didn’t know a door was closing until you’re through it.

magic trick

My love for Thursdays started in high school. I used to breeze into the bakery where I worked after ballet class and change the whole atmosphere with my unflagging cheeriness. My coworkers were a bunch of no-nonsense middle-aged women and two bored teen boys, so I think my energy was unexpected, noticeable, but I couldn’t have toned it down if I tried. From start to finish, the day felt full of anticipation. All the work I had to do seemed like good work, with the promise of the weekend ahead. The shape of Thursdays has shifted as I’ve grown up, but this feeling never has: Thursday is alive with a cobalt blue energy, shot through with productive magic.

I couldn’t find it this morning. Not in my five am espresso or my chilly morning run or clicking around in Dijon yellow loafers or writing a to-do list. At first, I was frustrated until I realized how similar this feeling was to one I had this week about an exchange with Jivan. Inexplicably, it was off. Just didn’t go as it should or even as it normally does. Overthinker that I am, a wrong note like this can send me right into an eddy of doomsday despair. What does this mean??? etc etc.

Here’s where long-term commitment comes in like a life preserver. Commitment to anything, in practice, comes with constraints. Paradoxically, constraint can feel like freedom. There is a lot that’s hard about sticking with someone, with something, for the long haul, but the reassurance of time invested is a relief. Pressure lifted. Jivan and I have so much history to draw on—and so much future ahead—that an off moment doesn’t have to mean anything at all. I can hang on to all that’s come before and let myself float. In marriage, in friendship, in habits—perhaps I’ve always needed this reminder. Even a bad run is a good run, I have to tell myself. In college, my ipod was engraved with tomorrow is a new day. So whether I find the magic or not this Thursday, there’s another one coming.

treat yourself

Venmo a friend $5 for coffee right this minute and make their day. Look at this Italian villa and enjoy the power of contrast and juxtaposition. Spend twenty minutes mixing up these pantry staple cookies and bake them off while you make dinner. Leave the laundry unfolded and watch a movie tonight instead. Indulge whatever Christmas music listening preference you feel sheepish about.

It’s Thursday after all.

Did you read this? Reply and tell me something good (or bad!) about your Thursday thus far. Equal opportunity for Thursdays.