Yesterday afternoon, my husband made a bookshelf for Pea, to house her enormous book collection. He found a print-out of the original, which he used as a jumping off point, in a stack of papers on my desk. I was touched that he took it upon himself to make this his next project. Nothing made me smile wider than watching him pouring over the pinks in the Benjamin Moore paint deck with little Pea. They settled on “Ballet Shoes.” It’s a nice and soft pink. Not my color, but it wasn’t my project. It was for our daughter, her Daddy was making it for her, and so I stayed out of it. And I’m so glad that I did.

I don’t think they are difficult to make, but the outcome is fantastic. He hung the first one at the foot of Pea’s bed, and she’s in love with it as much as I am. It looks great. It’s very low-profile, neat and different from the expected basket of books that’d been housing her nighttime reads, on the floor next to her bed, up until yesterday afternoon.

And I could easily have bought this shelf, and not thought twice about it. But how much more meaningful that rather than simply clicking on the “add to cart” button, my little girl’s father handcrafted a similar shelf for her? In his own wood-shop? While she played in the yard, next to his shop, with her little sister. You can’t put a price on that…

I love that my husband is so capable. I also love that I’m steadily learning that there are things I can live without, that there are things we can make ourselves. We made a vow to try and simplify our lives, and it looks to me like it’s working. And sometimes, as I’m sitting in front of the television at night, my knitting in hand (I’m making my first official sweater for Pea – from this book), I have to giggle at how old-fashioned it all seems. I’ve always been a traditionalist, but I also have always been a huge consumer. If I wanted it, I bought it. And most of what I was buying could not be accounted for a mere six months after the purchase was complete. And that’s so sad, to buy just for the sake of buying. So, we promised one another that we are going to be more mindful of the things we bring into our home.

I still believe firmly in quality over quantity. I buy the best that I can because it makes me feel good, but also because I know that over time, that item will pay for itself. Quality lasts. In fact, I still have the first cashmere sweater my mother ever bought for herself, over 30 years ago. She passed it along to me a few seasons ago, because although she was bored with it, it was a good sweater. And I’m enjoying it now. And with a little extra care, it looks nearly as good today as the day my mother bought it for herself. Splurged on it, really, all those years ago, when I was still a snot-nosed kid in the single-digits. She couldn’t really afford it, she was a single mother with two small children, new to the workforce. But she bought it, and all of those years, she’d held onto it. Long after she’d actually stopped wearing it. That beautiful black cashmere sweater with the boatneck held so many memories for her. And now, the sweater holds so many memories for me. There’s a story in that sweater. And I’m reminded of it every time I see it. I love that.

I just caught Coco with a cornflower blue Sharpie pen in her hand, and I will tell you that those pens are going to be the end of me. They come in all of these tempting colors now, and for some reason, you can find them all over our house. And Coco had one, cap off, in her little hand, searching for paper. And I just knew what was going to come next… Sharpie pen lines all up and down the front of her dress. And while I am good with the laundry, no one is that good. It’s not coming out. And the old me? Would’ve taken the dress off of her and thrown it in the trash. But the new me? Has left her in it, after all, it’s still ‘clean.’ And I’m now eying it with endless possibilities in my mind of how I can alter it, fix it, change it up…

Growth is good, don’t you think?