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In this edition:

A drama for those who like a little dash of horror now and again
A book for those who pass on horror but like a mystery
Broken toes, changing plans, and other ordinary pains
A new frame of reference for understanding my children
A prayer for grumpy mornings

Yellowjackets
This recommendation has a longer backstory than usual, if you’ll bear with me. Earlier this month I got a sinus infection from hell. I was in bed for several days, and at the worst of it the pain was so bad I couldn’t open my eyes or move my head. The one side benefit of being bedridden by illness is the uninterrupted TV time.

In general I avoid anything that even hints at horror, but occasionally I’ll hear of a show that has such high reviews or such a unique premise it piques my curiosity. In such a case, I save it until the next time I’m sick in bed. There are two reasons for this. The first is that I married the only person in the world who has a lower tolerance for fright than myself, so if I’m going to risk a scary show, I must do so alone. The second is that illness dulls the senses just enough to make higher levels of suspense bearable. So with the arrival of the sinus infection from hell, I decided to finally watch Yellowjackets.

Displacing Stranger Things as the scariest thing I’ve watched without regret, it’s the story of a high school girls’ soccer team (the Yellowjackets) whose plane crashes in the middle of the Canadian wilderness on their way to the national championship. They’re lost for 19 months. The timeline shifts back and forth from the teenagers trying to survive, to their grown up selves 25 years later. Not everyone made it out, and it’s unclear how those who did survived. It’s billed as horror, but I would call it a drama with horrific moments. I watched it with a 30 day free trial of Showtime. Creepy and fascinating. Well written, well acted, and original. Not for children or those who can’t take gore.

The Maid
This is the story of Molly the maid, told from her perspective. It’s about how much she loves being a hotel maid, the grief she feels over the loss of her grandmother, her desire for friendship, and the events following the day she discovers a hotel guest dead in his bed. Living inside Molly’s neurodivergent head was equal parts fascinating and delightful. She’s a main character worth rooting for, living out a mystery that will grip your attention but won’t keep you up at night. I enjoyed listening to this, but I’ve heard some folks say that the narrator’s voice ruined the book for them, so read or listen to your preference.

I stubbed my toe yesterday. Hard. Is there anything in life that elicits a more visceral reaction of anger than a stubbed toe? It’s like finding a roach in the kitchen, but without the fear to tamper the rage. After the pain passed I forgot about it until bedtime. Just as I was about to nod off I became aware of the feeling of lint between my toes and reached a finger down to extricate it. What do we call the space in between our toes? Toe cleavage? Toe gap? (Yall. It’s called the toe webspace. What in the world.)

Anyway, I shoved a finger between the first two toes, the next two, and half way between the third and fourth before pain shot from my fourth toe through the rest of my foot. Shocked, I froze. Several seconds later when I was still feeling the pain, I rolled over to interrupt Trevor’s reading. “I think I broke my toe!” I said, explaining about the earlier stubbing. “Huh, yeah, sounds like you broke it alright.” He didn’t even look up from the page.*

I didn’t sleep well that night due to an unsettled stomach and a few nightmares (unrelated to any spooky entertainment), and the next morning found me still queasy and very grumpy. After packing the lunchbox and pouring the cereal I entered the boys’ room to announce breakfast, and found that it reeked of vomit or something worse. There being no visible evidence of illness, I investigated further to discover the crusty remains of diarrhea in the three-year-old’s pullup. Unsurprisingly, he was also in a Very Bad Mood, and mine was getting worse.

My toe was broken, my stomach precarious, my kid sick in the worst way and unable to attend daycare, my to do list completely derailed.

Also, we’d been out of most of our go-to groceries for several days and there was nothing in the fridge that appealed to anyone, especially two grumpies with upset stomachs.

Sometimes pain is existential. The big, life-altering pains of death, war, and broken relationships. Sometimes pain is ordinary. Ultra-specific, pebble-in-the-shoe annoyances like stubbed toes and sleep deprivation.

God has interest and compassion for the full range.

*Upon further research, I think it’s just a sprain.

The thing about parenting is it never stops being something you’ve never done before. You get the hang of diapers and bottles and then all of a sudden someone says “Why is God taking so long to give me a backyard?” and two seconds later you’ve gotta buy a lunchbox for school and the whole thing is one giant experiment. A friend of mine is sending her firstborn off to college in the fall and she’s as anxious about the unknown as any first time mom I know. It’s a constant learning curve.

The thing about parenting books is that many of them are about methods or philosophies that worked well for that author and their family. Which is great! Except that not many of them say, “This is what worked well for me and my family.” Instead they say, “This is the RIGHT WAY to do things and if you don’t your kid will be ruined forever.” Okay, maybe not exactly like that. But that’s how it feels.

I want to be a great parent! I want to learn any information that might help me understand and love my children well! I don’t want to be shamed over philosophical or personality differences.

SO. I’ve decided to read fewer parenting books and more child development books. Neither one will give me a magical formula to keep my kids from all harm forever. I just think an understanding of their emotional and physical development might serve me better than trying to copy another parent’s methods. I’m starting with The Whole Brain Child, and so far it’s been interesting, helpful, and an easier read than I expected a sciency book to be.

It is a true joy to write for you each month, and I always love to hear about anything you tried and loved or anything that stirred your heart. Simply reply to this email or leave a comment to let me know.

Until next time, hold the paradox, don’t panic. Love you.

-Steph

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The Paradox Paper #18