On Banana Bread and Falling Short

WEEK 2. Posting this at 11pm on Saturday, the last day of Week 2. Barely made it.

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I almost didn’t meet my weekly Substack writing goal. FFS it’s only Week 2 and here I am sitting down at 9pm to write something I hope is worth reading. Ultimately, I told myself, you have to write. About anything. So here we are.

In full transparency, it has been a long week of Mommy-ing and adulting, and I simply did not have the desire or energy to write. And when I did have the energy, I didn’t know what I wanted to write about. I woke up this morning fully intent on putting words to screen. I made my coffee, curled up in my favorite writing spot on my sofa and then… I picked up my phone. I spent the next hour doom-scrolling as the knot in my stomach grew tighter and tighter. I know better.

Determined to turn the energy of my day around, I headed into the kitchen. Brown and spotted bananas to the rescue! I opened the pantry door and grabbed containers of all purpose flour and brown sugar from our pantry, each container part of a Container Store set neatly labeled in the handwriting of my then 11 year old daughter - a COVID project. I pulled up the Smitten Kitchen banana bread recipe on my phone and went to work. With Olivia Dean’s The Art of Loving album playing in my ear, I buried the feelings evoked by the crashing world around us in the cracking of eggs and spooning of flour, in the browning of butter and the folding of chocolate chips into batter. Two batches of banana bread into the oven, made with anxiety paired with laps of joyful Olivia Dean-fueled dancing around my kitchen island… so… made with love?

I plopped back on my couch lost in my thoughts while I stared at the vase that once held fresh flowers from my 2026 Week 1 Joy List now in desperate need of a water change. A water change that should have taken place… 6, 7 days ago. Sixxxx, Sevennnn! Hydrangeas once full and firm now drooped sadly, hanging limply over the edge of the vase surrounded by the more resilient eucalyptus stems. I guess changing the water in the vases didn’t make it on my priority list this week.

My eyes moved from the vase of dying flowers sitting in cloudy water to out the window watching the trees in our front yard. The bare branches swayed in the wind as some sort of precipitation fell gently from the sky. Is it snowing?! I pulled the blanket a little tighter across my body, the thought of snow making me feel an imaginary chill. It has been so cold lately. Perfect day for banana bread and a cup of tea.

I sat there waiting as the timer on the oven counted down until I could pull the bread and have a slice on my plate. The smell of cinnamon, browned butter, and baking bananas filled the room. As I waited, I shared some exciting news about my second picture book on my Instagram and FB pages. I initially hesitated about sharing this news now… but… reminded myself that sharing joy can be a balm in times of chaos.

As the comments poured in on my post I went back to staring into the space occupied by the vase filled with limp flowers and cloudy water. I made a promise to myself to change the water, remove the dead flowers, revive the ones I could, and keep the ones that were thriving. Much like my promise to myself to write and post once a week; there is still plenty of life left in that commitment.

The beeping of the oven alarm interrupted my thoughts. I unfolded my legs from underneath the blanket, my knees protesting loudly… they ached like a MF. But no worries, I will slice some banana bread and make me some chai, perfect for what is now a cold, snowy day.