Forty-one came in hard.

Like, neck-spasm, can’t-turn-my-head, parenting-a-toddler kind of hard.

Between finalizing Tyler Never Cried (which, by the way, is now officially live on Amazon and going into mass distribution Tuesday, his birthday) and hunching over my computer for three days straight, I think I became one with my office chair. There’s something poetic about writing through pain… until you realize it’s just a muscle spasm.

We’ve been in the middle of the homeschool-versus-public-school battle with Lynnlee. Spoiler: it ended in a co-op enrollment, which feels like the perfect middle ground…kind of like parenting itself. You’re never fully in one camp or the other; you just hope the balance holds long enough to get everyone fed and semi-educated.

And even though I swore I’d take a little break before diving into another book, inspiration had other plans. The next one is fully outlined, characters mapped, scenes already spinning around my head like they’ve been waiting their turn to be written. Add in a few new Lynnlee & Hugsy adventures (this time illustrated with the girls’ actual art but transformed into “book clean” versions), and let’s just say my so-called break never stood a chance.

Thomas and I are also working to get all my books onto Audible, which I now know is both exciting and a pain in the ass. We’ve got a reading coming up at Barnes & Noble on November 8, and a big shopping event the very next day, so I’ve been juggling book edits, events, and, of course, kids.

Meanwhile, the house… well, it showed every sign of me being buried in work. Until I came home from the last home football game to find my husband had cleaned everything. Even the bathroom. It was the kind of quiet grace that sometimes goes unnoticed but changes everything. I could finally focus on catching up with work without feeling the guilt of the mess around me.

I had an interview this week, and they asked what got me into writing and blogging. My answer was simple: I started because I was struggling to see myself outside of being a mom and wife. The interviewer smiled and said, “That’s ironic, your writing is all about being a mom and wife.”

It hit me. Not in a bad way just in a true way.

Maybe you can’t escape who you are. Maybe the peace comes when you stop trying. Because even when I’m writing to find me, “me” is still the woman who finds meaning in Twizzlers and coffee, who turns chaos into stories, who builds something beautiful out of crumbs.

Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe that’s grace.

And, because grace never seems to come without a little chaos, while I was editing this post, Harper decided she needed a cup. In the process, she knocked the magnesium off the nightstand. It came crashing to the floor, glass everywhere, magnesium puddling under my crochet bag. So now the tile will sleep great tonight if what they say about magnesium is true.

Just another day in the chaos.

Now, send me your best magnesium recommendations, because these neck spasms are real and coffee isn’t cutting it.