What are three things you're grateful for?

So, I have a confession: Pregnancy hormones make me crazy. During the day, I feel pretty happy-go-lucky, but as Alex and I lie down at night, my mind starts spinning. Every night, I'm plagued by a new random worry: Is Toby a happy child? Does he feel loved? Does he eat enough fish? Do I eat enough fish? Did I lock my bike? Will the new baby be okay? Is the living-room power strip a fire hazard?! No, seriously, Alex, will you go check the power strip?!!

You name it, I've stressed out about it. :)

In the brilliant Happy documentary, researchers revealed that one way to help increase happiness is to keep a gratitude journal. Even the small act of writing down three things per week can substantially boost your happiness. So, let's do it! What are three things you're grateful for today? I would say: Trader Joe's chocolate covered almonds, early spring days, and chatting with my mom on the phone. Also, the etiquette section of the New York Times. Double dates. Whispering in bed before falling asleep. Swimming at night. Toddlers' beautiful round bellies.

What about you?
(This is what I look like at night.)

P.S. Words of encouragement, and a genius trick for worriers.

(Top photo by First Sight Daily and winter blues illustration by Gemma Correll, for sale here)

Encouragement

I've been feeling a little overwhelmed this week. Sometimes it's hard being a grown-up, especially an anxious one. But then my mom sent me this poem, and I'd love to frame it on my desk. It speaks so beautifully to the strength we can carry with us.

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!
—Rudyard Kipling

How are you feeling these days, my loves?

P.S. Are you, too, a worrier?

(Banner from Secret Holiday & Co.; top illustration by Marc Johns, via Swissmiss)

Motherhood Mondays: On being human

Motherhood can have ups and downs. Exhausting, beautiful, hilarious, frustrating, magical, overwhelming. I used to joke to Alex that new motherhood was like traveling abroad. You're tired and jetlagged, and you haven't showered and you have a cramp in your neck and you're sort of inexplicably sticky, but then you look around and the world feels beautiful and otherworldly and you're glad you came.

My friend Leigh wrote a fantastic post last week about how motherhood can sometimes feel tough to navigate, and it reminded me that everyone's life—no matter how effortless and polished it may look from the outside (when you see women on blogs, in magazines, even just on the street)—without a doubt includes the same tricky moments, worries, doubts, ups and downs. That's what it means to be human and real, and we should celebrate and love ourselves for that.

Recently, I came across this poem (excerpt below). I have such respect for all mothers, and women overall.

"The Lanyard" By Billy Collins (an excerpt)
She gave me life and milk from her breasts,
and I gave her a lanyard.
She nursed me in many a sick room,
lifted spoons of medicine to my lips,
laid cold face-cloths on my forehead,
and then led me out into the airy light
and taught me to walk and swim,
and I, in turn, presented her with a lanyard.
Here are thousands of meals, she said,
and here is clothing and a good education.
And here is your lanyard, I replied,
which I made with a little help from a counselor.
Here is a breathing body and a beating heart,
strong legs, bones and teeth,
and two clear eyes to read the world, she whispered,
and here, I said, is the lanyard I made at camp.
(Top photo of Toby and me. Bottom photo from Nirrimi)