Proof in a Ziploc

I’ve been writing a lot lately.
I mean, a lot a lot.

I almost don’t recognize myself, but at the same time, I absolutely do. I recognize in me what people have said for years (which I will now paraphrase and probably mangle):
During times of uncertainty and unrest, the answer can often be found in creating.

• The Consistency Advantage book is a blink away from publication

• I yanked out and completed a mini-memoir

• I’m collaborating with a finance friend, far wiser than I, on a book about consistency & money.

• I’ve finished perhaps my favorite project yet: Parenting, Consistently.

Are any of us truly experts on anything? Who can say.
Am I an expert on consistency?

On doing a little bit every day until I’m gone?

On recognizing and remembering small stuff is the only way forward to big, lasting change?
I am.

The other day, Roni Noone and I did a Substack Live a mini reunion re-launching our book and announcing our new #WYCWYC workbook.

One of the first humans to join the live?
My daughter, Emma. The kidult who is almost no longer a teen.

Ten years ago, when the book first came out, she thought I hung the moon (as nine-year-olds do).
I remember when the galley copy arrived she immediately snatched it up and announced she was bringing it to school for show-and-tell the next day. When she woke and saw it was pouring, we tucked the book inside two or three Ziplocs together before she walked out the door to school.

I don’t know if she remembers this.

I do know when I texted her after our brief live to thank her for showing up,she sent me this:

I love you girl and of course I love being able to support you with your things. I love you so much and I'm so grateful for you. It was really nice being able to hop on and understand everything and know all about everything y'all were talking about and do together.

It reminded me, again, the small, consistent invitations matter most.

All those years of pulling her into my world: the antics, the books, the rainy mornings, the Ziplocs we’ve packed together built something real.

Her message was proof of the quiet magic of consistency: she didn’t only show up, she knew she belonged.