Hi Reader,

We had a good day today. Mostly. And yet, I'm writing this email, worrying about something else entirely: how many chances I have left to connect with them and whether I'm taking advantage of them or if I'm just getting through our days.

My little one is in what I'm calling his "bribe" phase. I'm not bribing him — he's trying to bribe me. After something upsets him — doesn't matter if it's me, his brother, or just circumstances — he'll tell me the only thing that will make him happy is a kombucha, or McDonald's for lunch. Four dollars and ten minutes later, everyone would be happy. But that's obviously not the message I want to send, so I hold the line and we wait while a seven-year-old holds the afternoon hostage.

It wears on me, slowly. My patience gets thinner as the day goes. I start answering simple questions like I'm annoyed. Maybe I am. Probably I am.

Today my older one asked if I was annoyed, and before I could even answer, my little one said, "Well, I would be if I were you."

What's sitting with me tonight is that my kids can read my lower tolerance even when I feel like I'm staying calm. While I might not be yelling, I am also not really there, and they can feel the difference.

So I've been thinking about my window of tolerance — how much can get thrown at me before I tighten up, go quiet, get short, even without raising my voice. And the window is smaller some days than I'd like to admit. I am working on widening it.

Widening it, for me, starts in the body before it starts in my head — noticing the tightness in my chest or my jaw before the short answers start, and finding one slow breath before I respond instead of after.

I know it is not just about managing what comes out of my mouth, but tending to what's building underneath it, long before the frustration or annoyance turns into short answers, distraction, and distance.

Yours in widening the window,
Jess