A few days ago, one of my kids walked in from the garage holding a nearly empty, Costco-sized bag of tortilla chips. He stuffed a few crumbs into his mouth when I realized, “Wait, isn’t that the bag that’s been sitting in the garage all night?”

So yeah, my kid is eating stale chips from the garage. But also, why were the chips in the garage?

There are hundreds…yes hundreds…of pieces of candy stashed around my house right now. One of my children has sorted each type into different bags, making sure every candy finds its proper place. Another child dumped everything in a bucket. My third kid opted for a combination of sorting and dumping–he’s selected his favorites, bagged those up, and then stockpiled what’s left in a pillow case.

It’s 11am on Friday morning, and our mastermind group has already exchanged several Voxer messages. Most days, Sonya, the East Coaster, starts us off with a “Good morning, how is everyone?” message, often peppered with commentary about the car in front of her or how people can’t park. Her day is in full swing, and when I see the notification on my phone that I have a message, I can hardly wait to hear what’s going to be said. Also, I’ve never found someone’s verbal road rage so endearing.

I’m in the Central Time Zone, so sometimes I’m next up, although Ashlee and Katie, the West Coasters, are more disciplined than me about waking up early. They often beat me to replying, but I catch up eventually. I have serious FOMO if I miss a message. For the rest of the day, we leave each other Voxes about everything from book marketing to health updates to marriage and kids to what we ate for breakfast. These messages are among the most meandering, delightful, sometimes hard but always grace-filled, conversations I’ve had in my life.

We’re a few weeks from the end of another year. As I look back over the last 12 months and take stock of what’s happened in the world, it’s easy to grow discouraged. Personally, my year has been exhausting and full, but relative to other years, it’s not one that’s been particularly marked by grief. Yet when I lift my eyes and consider so many others in my community around me and in the world at large, this year has overflowed with suffering. Just glance back at the headlines, and it’s obvious that suffering runs rampant.

Last year around this time, the Coffee + Crumbs team brainstormed how we’d “pivot” our annual Mother’s Day Brunch. We ended up taking the brunch where everything else went: online. We laughed, cried, sat in front of our screens eating breakfast for one and drinking solo mugs of coffee, brunching via Zoom.

It was not what we originally planned, but we are moms. We know how to adapt. We know how to change a diaper in the back of the minivan with only Chick-Fil-A napkins found in the car door to use as wipes. We know how to pull out leftovers from the fridge and pantry, cut them into small bites and proudly proclaim, “It’s snack dinner tonight!” We know how to convince our hurting preschooler that his doctor visit is going to be a fun date with mom (or at least it will end with donuts).

“This is the best day ever!”

My kids have taken to shouting that hyperbolic statement nearly any time they do something they enjoy. Eating ice cream, riding bikes, going to a friend’s house—these all apparently deserve the title of “best day ever.”

The pendulum swings just as far in the other direction, of course. There are about a hundred activities that can cause them to declare any given day the worst ever—eating cooked carrots, having to clean their rooms, not being allowed to play with the hose at 8am when it’s 50 degrees outside, wearing shoes that fit. Who knew that last one could so easily result in a three-year-old naming an otherwise normal Thursday “the worst day ever.”

The last couple weeks have been filled with all the normal chaos of life—sickness, things in our home breaking or needing to be cleaned, a two-year-old very vocally voicing his opinions, skipped naps, and pediatrician appointments. It’s not been anything completely out of the ordinary—just tiring. But I find myself frustrated that I can’t seem to get ahead on tasks and annoyed at the inconveniences of life.

I’m usually the one behind the camera when I’m blogging. I cook in my no-so-photogenic kitchen and shoot the finished product using a simple setup in my dining room. With three little ones running around, I don’t always get a chance to get in front of the camera or snap many process shots. This time, I was able to get some process shots to go along with this simple, delicious cookie recipe!

Happy Tuesday! How’s your week going? Yeah, I realize we’re only a few days in, but anyone else feel like this week has been about a month long? My kiddos are fighting sickness, and the weather here is still gloomy (although about 40 degrees warmer than last week!). We’ve read all the books, played with Play-Doh, watched movies, spilled Cheerios, snuggled on the couch, and laughed a lot (four-year-olds are hilarious, by the way). And now I need to refuel with coffee and chocolate.

Of the six kids in my family, three of us live in the Chicago area and three live in New Jersey where we grew up. Every year, a few weeks before Christmas, the girls who live nearby in the Chicago suburbs get together to bake. We make couple batches of family-favorite cookies—like chocolate mint cookies and krumkake, a Norwegian waffle-like cookie. Most importantly, though, we make my mom’s Swedish tea ring. Truth be told, it’s actually Betty Crocker’s recipe, but it’s the version we ate on Christmas morning every year as kids.

When I first made these cookies, I intended only to bake the mint chocolate version I grew up eating every Christmas. Maybe you’ve seen similar recipes before. Basically, you make a simple chocolate dough and then melt an Andes mint on top. They’re a family favorite (except with family members who dislike mint in their desserts). I happen to love mint in most desserts, and these cookies are no exception.