I’ve spent way too much time in my life thinking about what comes next. What will my kids be like in a year? What will my family look like in the future? What will I be doing career-wise? Will the world as we know it still exist? (Sad, but true.) There is always some uncertainty we are trying desperately to figure out—even though, for the most part, it's completely out of our control. We are all mere pawns in this game of life, pivoting like hell whenever something is thrown our way.
But what would happen if we started to not ask ourselves so many questions? There is something so freeing about admitting to not knowing exactly what life will look like in five years. And here’s the kicker: We don’t need to know (gasp!) to appreciate where we are right now. Because this moment is its own, and we will never get the opportunity to re-live it, no matter how horrific or beautiful it can be. Maybe it’s time to start letting tomorrow be tomorrow and give ourselves permission to truly be present today. To enjoy the little people I get to hang out with every day, and the ridiculous things they do and say. To soak up the moments right now that I know, without a doubt, I will deeply miss someday, even when the days are really, really hard. Maybe not knowing is not a bad thing, maybe it’s simply being here. —Lauren Bell Martin
The Lost Art of Not Knowing
And other musings from a first-time (and maybe last-time) mom
The number one question I have been asked across my entire adult life has been, “Do you want kids?” To the point that the first memory I have immediately following my husband proposing to me is my mother exclaiming, over brunch, that she was going to be a grandmother. The metal was still cold on my ring finger.
Lucky for her, the answer to that question was always an enthusiastic, unequivocal yes. I didn’t know when and I didn’t even always know why, but I knew that I wanted to be a mother. I knew that I couldn’t imagine a future without something (someone?) to show for the immense love I hold for my now-husband. I often tell people I wasn’t born to be a mother, but I was definitely born to be my son’s mother.
On October 18, 2024, my beautiful, brilliant, hilarious, insert every word every doting mother thinks is unique to her own child son came barreling into this world after a 20-plus-hour labor brought on by induction. I knew, immediately, that my decision to have kids was the right one.
And then, there it was... first as a subtle nudge, and then as a bold, unmistakable question. “So, would you do it again?” Imagine, me, freshly postpartum and not even out of diapers myself, pretending I am even remotely close to considering having another child. For a long time, I would dance around the answer. I would say, “Yes, of course, we want another,” or “Yes, but we’re not sure when,” or “We’ve been talking about it!”
The real answer is: I don’t know. And I also don’t know why that answer makes me feel so much guilt. Is it because we’ve culturally equated “I don’t know” with something negative? Is it because “I don’t know” leans more toward no than yes? (Not true, by the way!) Yes, I’m aware that my biological clock is ticking away. How could I forget? I was reminded during my pregnancy that, even though I would be 34 when my son was born, I would also be just a few weeks shy of advanced maternal age, so they would be treating me as such. Today, I am well into my advanced years, and given that my answer is still “I don’t know,” it’s clear that this maybe-baby will be born to a geriatric mother, should I choose to have them.
Back-to-school supplies for adults because who doesn’t love a new water bottle, cute notebook, and fresh-ass pens?
There is just something so satisfying about back-to-school shopping. The promise of a new school year and the chemical smells of contact paper and Sharpies. A fresh start. And even if my kids aren’t school-aged yet, you will still find me browsing the aisles of Target (nothing to see here) stocking up on my own adult school supplies. Because surely this new planner and these color-coded pens are exactly what I need to be organized, stay on top of my motherly duties, and generally have my shit together. At least for the next couple of weeks. —LBM
Has anyone else started to feel that their memory isn’t as sharp as it once was? This notebook says what it means and means what it says.
For some reason I really feel productive working by candlelight. Maybe I’m being subconsciously inspired by our forefathers, but this Moss + Amber candle really gets the job done.
I love having a little notepad to throw in my purse for reminders and lists, plus the cover makes me giggle because “it me.”
Everyone needs an emotional-support water bottle.
If you’re going to have a lunch box, it better be a cute lunch box.
I really do feel more together when I write everything in a planner. This one is great because it allows space for not only your schedule, but kid’s schedules, and meal plans for the week.
Write my obituary with fineliner pens.
Something I’ve been meaning to get into: journaling. I love the idea of writing non-formal entries of funny things my kids say or revolutionary ideas I stumble upon in therapy.
These acrylic paper clips are great for bookmarking your page, making it easy to flip open any notebook or planner in times of great chaos.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled Folly Q&A to bring you this PSA:
Bring back millennial girl power anthems! Because if I don’t have Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” playing in the background as I struggle to restrain my son, who is full-on gator death-rolling while I change his diaper, then what do I have? —LBM
Recent medical research has found a genetic link—and possible cure—for extreme morning sickness.
Furious on Hulu is Killing Eve meets the Epstein List in a universe where the people involved are actually held accountable.
So far, we’re into With Friends Like You by Amy Chozick, a novel about a new mom in a desperate search for her vanished college roommate.
Witney Carson of Dancing with the Stars announced that she would be competing this season while pregnant with her third child. Badass.
Girls’ trips, which are essential for all. They should be mandated. Fill that damn cup.
Reintroducing the Fisher-Price Mix & Learn DJ Table stand toy for my son who just started pulling himself up. It’s been in my basement since my 2.5-year-old lost interest completely a couple of months ago. My assumption was that my daughter’s DJ career was over, when in reality her passion was reignited. Now we have two DJs in this family (derogatory). My day job is breaking up DJ fights mid-set. —LBM
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