Gratitude in the Glue: An Unconventional List of Thanks in My Thirties

A couple of months ago, my husband made a statement that’s since resonated with me. On a particularly hectic day, he said, “You’re the glue that keeps this family together.”

I thought carefully about this statement, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized what a compliment it was. Glue is messy, sticky, and sometimes doesn’t work as expected. Glue also carries the power to bond that which might not otherwise come together. Glue works quietly and swiftly in the background without much recognition. Glue comes through in a pinch when we need it the most.  

Glue and I actually have a lot in common. I, too, am messy. I’ve gotten myself into some sticky situations. Like glue, I’m stronger than I give myself credit for and am often working away quietly in the background. At a time in my life when I don’t have any impressive hobbies or accolades to show, I am most proud of being the glue. 

Glue

In my twenties, my list of gratitude shared some of the same things as it does now. I was grateful then – and am still grateful now – for a healthy family and friends, a roof over my head, and a way to provide for myself. But my gratitude list in my twenties would have also included things like adventure, upward mobility at my job, being a certain number on the scale, and certain physical possessions. 

How life has changed since then! For me, adventure now consists of getting our family dressed and out the door on time. The trips we have taken together have not gone as planned, but we’ve laughed and made the best of them. From a professional standpoint, I’ve traded upward mobility for stability and balance that affords me the little moments with my kids while still working a part of my brain that I enjoy using. The scale? I know when to love it or leave it, and no longer allow it to make or break my day. 

I realize now, more than ever, that I have no idea what I’m doing. If love makes up for it, I will be okay. 

Where pride used to be, I have learned to admit wrongdoing. Especially to my kids. 

I am working hard on letting that which doesn’t matter, truly slide. {Thanks, Fight Club!}

On days where I feel I’m failing and falling apart, I also work on giving myself more grace. 

Where I used to allow others to walk on me out of fear of hurting them if I stood my ground, I’ve made boundaries and sticking to them. 

This is a small one, but I’m grateful for taking the five minutes to dry my hair during that every-other-day shower. If anything, I can feel good about my hair. 

You, too, may be the glue. It’s not glamorous, but it’s also not a simple task. It requires diligence. For me, being the glue often means that I am the hamster spinning ’round the wheel at 2 a.m. when I’m trying to go back to sleep. Being the glue means keeping track of which little one is boycotting bananas this week and what they might enjoy instead. It’s keeping a mental note of that missing mitten lying on the porch chair and despite not remembering what you did two days ago, knowing where to find it.  Being the glue means remembering to send that birthday card out and that you need to buy goodies for the school party. All of these things may feel insignificant, but they’re part of the glue that holds your family together. 

It’s starting the day not knowing how you’re going to get through, but taking it minute-by-minute. It’s juggling a few too many balls on a thin tight rope and making it across, once again. 

I’m grateful for far more happy days than tough days, and knowing that I’ve made it through 100% of my tough days and will make it through the 100% to come. 

I’m grateful to look at my husband and girls in the little moments and to take the time to truly soak in what we’re working so hard day-in and day-out for. It’s seeing the twinkle in their eyes at the little things and taking the time to truly be present in the moment with them. 

 

I’m grateful for talk therapy and some great pharmaceuticals that have helped me through post-traumatic incidents, through postpartum anxiety, and in moving forward. I’m even more grateful for the women who have shared their experiences and have fought to break the stigma of seeking mental health treatment. I stand with you. 

I’m grateful for teaching my kids how beautiful and strong their bodies are. In teaching them, I am re-teaching myself after fighting body image issues my entire life. 

On especially wild days, when everyone is on eleven and the train is flying off the tracks, I am grateful to lock eyes with the man I’ve created this family with and smile. After years of feeling alone, I never have to be alone again. I sometimes lose sight of that. 

I’m far from the perfect Wife, Mom, Daughter, or Friend. Nor do I aim to be. But I will continue to be the glue and will be grateful for the ability to do all that comes with it. 

 

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Kylie grew up in Capac, a little rural town in the thumb of Michigan. She now resides in Oakland Township with her husband, Michael, and daughters, Ella and Clara. Prior to becoming a mother, Kylie completed a Bachelor of Science in Brain, Behavior, and Cognitive Science/Pre-Health and a Master of Business Administration with a concentration in Marketing Analytics, both at the University of Michigan. Her career is focused on improving the quality of healthcare in the most vulnerable populations of Michigan. The past few years have given the opportunity for the most challenging and rewarding role of her life: that of a mother. Kylie is passionate about spending time with her family and friends, endurance cycling and running, going to concerts at small venues, cooking fun and unique dishes with her husband, home improvement projects, playing classical piano, and the color orange. One of the most profound things she’s learned about becoming a mother is to love with all her heart, do the best she can, and try not to worry about the rest.