The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This post is two of two paid posts this month. You can read the first post here.

The CJO Review

I’m partially dishonest when people ask me about our choice to live in Nashville, Tennessee. I withhold the full story, saving its truth for someone more willing to hear more about death, and less about achievement or luck.

When Jared and I moved to Nashville in 2014, we knew we’d live here for four years, the precise length of time it would take for Jared to complete his training at Vanderbilt University. Beyond that, no circumstance was promised.

By the time Jared’s fellowship program ended, we both felt at home in Nashville and wanted to stay, to plant ourselves here long term. There were, however, no open faculty positions at Vanderbilt, where he wanted to be, and it’s not possible to apply for a position that does not exist. We were forced to look elsewhere.

The clearest alternative for our new home base was Columbus, Ohio, near where both Jared and I grew up and where our families currently live. Jared and I have always loved Columbus, so this was a natural and welcome pivot, one that was less of a consolation prize and more of a generous offering. Jared began writing to distinguished practices with the subject line: ‘Interventional Cardiologist Inquiry’.

We excitedly shared with our families that we would be moving home. We popped champagne, recorded their reactions, and let ourselves begin imagining our life there in earnest.

The Columbus-based interviews began. We looked at homes in wonderful school districts. We talked aloud about how, one day, we could raise our children close to their grandparents, an irreplaceable reality, like our parents raised us close to ours. They could grow up alongside their cousins and our friends’ children. I could routinely run through my college’s campus and order my favorite veggie burger at Northstar. Jared could revel in Columbus’s commitment to The Ohio State Buckeyes, a team whose football schedule determined the day of our wedding.

Every detail began to take form, and it was now time to begin sharing this news with our Nashville community.

As Jared and I carefully weighed our final options for jobs, a shift was quietly taking place at Vanderbilt.

A cardiologist of over thirty years was losing his battle with cancer, preparing to leave behind fellows ‘who admired him greatly’, Vanderbilt would later write, and patients ‘who absolutely adored him’. He was a husband of 35 years and a father to five children. He was only 62 years old when he died.

When a cardiologist dies, he is not only mourned by his beloved family, but he is also mourned by a team of devoted colleagues and a group of patients who depend on him for care, even survival. His passing left a hole in Vanderbilt’s cardiology department, one not only filled with grief, but also with an urgent, impossible weight of patient care. Though he was gone, his patients remained, and they needed someone to continue their care.

Only weeks before we planned to move home, Jared was asked to fill this position.

How do I thank a person I never knew for the life I have today?

Only one week ago, Jared and I drove past the church on West End Avenue where his funeral was held. “That was awful,” Jared said, referring to watching his daughter give the eulogy. For a reason neither Jared nor I could remember, I did not attend the funeral.

This unexpected collision—one of profound loss, surprise, and genuinely life-altering opportunity—left us disoriented.

All at once, while feeling committed to Columbus, we were given a second chance to stay in Nashville. We had already gotten so specific, and so hopeful, about our lives back home.

Still, we took a step back, and we said to ourselves, “We’ve been given this chance to weigh two fantastic options. We can build a life in Columbus. Or, we can build one in Nashville.”

The list of pros to moving forward with Columbus was long. We are proud Midwesterners. And grandparents! Oh, to be close to grandparents. Proximity to lifelong friends. True familiarity. Comfort. Ease.

The list of pros to staying in Nashville was equally as long. We fit right in here in Nashville. Our community is irreplaceable. We could remain a Vanderbilt family. Creative and academic support. Growth. Vibrancy.

The list of cons to moving forward with Columbus was brief. We would miss Nashville severely, especially our community here. Not to mention, we couldn’t possibly retract the news of our homecoming to our families, right?

The list of cons to moving forward with Nashville was also brief. We would live with a larger gap between our parents, siblings, and friends, whom we love and need. How could we raise children so far from them?

At the time, this felt like one of the most consequential and high-stakes decisions we could make as partners. Now, I see that moment in time differently.

We ultimately chose to stay, to plant ourselves in Nashville long term. It is now the birthplace of our sons, home to Wiley Canning Company, and epicenter of our rich community of friends.

But, here is the thing.

The choice to stay in Nashville was no better than the choice to move to Columbus. The choice to have moved to Columbus would have been no better than the choice to stay in Nashville. Staying was the right choice. Moving would have also been the right choice. Despite the tension and complexity we felt when making this decision, we ultimately chose between two right options, as if we were being asked to choose between inheriting a home in Zermatt with an unobstructed view of the Swiss Alps, or a home in Carmel-by-the-Sea with a panoramic view of the Pacific Ocean. There was no wrong answer. More often than we realize, there is no wrong answer.

We have lived in Nashville, now, for twelve years. We have built a beautiful life here. I believe a huge reason for this, aside from tremendous luck, is that we have resisted the myth of the singular correct life.

This mindset softens the expectations we’ve placed on Nashville, and because of this absence of pressure, we’ve been able to stretch, grow, and live, knowing that, at any time, a quiet shift may be taking place elsewhere that could alter the direction of our ship once more.

So often as women, and particularly as mothers, we find ourselves in this position. We feel as though we’re making a decision between ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.

Should I pursue an unmedicated birth or an epidural? Should my baby nap in my arms or in his crib? Do I send my child to preschool or follow a homeschool curriculum?

An unmedicated birth. An epidural. My arms. His crib. Preschool. Homeschool. These are all right answers.

Should I stay, or should I move?

Nashville. Columbus. Right answers.

When we recognize this, when we recognize we are most often making a choice between ‘right and right’—between this beautiful life and that beautiful life—the pressure releases. When the pressure releases, we can simply live, and we can live with an awareness that, at any moment, no circumstance is promised.

What’s more, when choosing between ‘right’ and ‘right’, it’s easy to fall into a ‘one foot in, one foot out’ mentality, because it’s only natural to wonder, “How would today have gone had we moved to Columbus?”

This is the myth rearing its head. Resist this.

Fully commit to what you’ve chosen. Internalize your choice. Embody it.

The only thing more powerful than our choices themselves is our commitment to them.

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Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This post is one of two paid posts this month, as March came and went all too quickly.

The CJO Review

I’ve been a mother for five and a half years, and in many ways, this amount of time is a blip.

It’s also the amount of time one might spend earning a Ph.D., a degree meant to signal expertise in a particular field.

While I do not consider myself an expert in motherhood, I do consider myself someone who pays close attention—to my children and to our progress as a team.

Over time, I’ve gathered a handful of pieces of advice I might offer another mother navigating her own path, some harder to hear, others more relieving.

I might say, You cannot do it all. Despite a cultural cheerleading squad that insists we can, the truth is we cannot, at least, not all at once. What began as an empowering rallying cry has become an impossible standard. (This deserves its own essay.)

I might also remind her, when she is on the brink of physical collapse, You will sleep again. Babies do eventually learn to sleep for longer stretches. In the mean time, consider drinking herbal tea at night in place of wine. Here is my current favorite.

But if, today, I could leave a fellow mother with one piece of advice, it would be this:

Keep trying the hard thing.

If something feels hard—an errand, a swim lesson, a new food—keep attempting it.

I used to assume that if something felt consistently hard in motherhood, I might be doing it wrong. I’m now beginning to believe the opposite: much of motherhood is an invitation to return, repeatedly, to what feels difficult.

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Sullivan is currently playing his third season of baseball, and the growth I’ve witnessed is immense. His first season was very hard, though, and I considered concluding it simply wasn’t for him. There were moments he refused to step onto the field, and he had no interest in wearing baseball pants. And yet, we kept trying. We showed up to each practice, each game. We registered for another season.

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The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

When I think of February 2026, I will always think of India: its colors and textures, its landscapes, its friendliness, and of course, the place where I attended my first Indian wedding. Thank you, Emily and Anu, for inviting me into this celebratory, wild, and vibrantly loving time.

I have hundreds of photos yet to sort and edit, as well as an essay brewing about perfectionism as it relates to the Taj Mahal, a mausoleum and modern world wonder, built intricately over 22 years.

An adventurous spirit is integral to who I am, and it is a spirit I drew upon as I traveled through India. As a college student, I studied in the jungles of Gamboa, Panama and visited remote primary schools in Embu, Kenya. I love to fossil hunt. I want to climb Half Dome.

What stood out to me most in India is how dormant this part of me had become, and I know exactly why.

I had children.

The moment Sullivan was born, my relationship to risk changed entirely. My sense of adventure became far more associated with potential loss than expansion, and I wanted nothing to do with the unexpected because life suddenly felt so fragile. Adventure requires risk, and taking a risk was too high-stakes. This was true for even the mundane. Leaving the house felt nerve-racking. Watching a beautiful film predicated on heartache felt unbearable. There is a scene in Ice Age where a mother is forced to leave her infant on the banks of a roaring river in order to survive, a sacrificial act that should be a part of no children’s movie, and I nearly combusted when I saw this for the first time postpartum.

One might call this anxiety, and I believe that is partly true. But it is also the unrelenting vulnerability and devotion of motherhood. Our modern world has done very little to soften our ancient instincts to protect our children, and these instincts rage within me as a mother.

And yet, in India, I noticed a shift. It is not one I pursued or cultivated; it was simply that the time had come when I no longer felt so restrained by my previous aversions, and I was present enough with myself to notice.

My instincts are no less there, but I can now hold them with more awareness and control, which allows me to again take risks, with less fear and with more trust.

The moment I had a taste of this return in India, I felt such relief. Triumph. Blaze. I felt a near boiling over of motivation to try, try, try something new. I savored this, squeezed the juices from this feeling.

My older sister and I traveled to India together. After the wedding, we stayed in Alwar, Rajasthan, a city outside of Jaipur. One morning, we drove into Jaipur to see Hawa Mahal.

A former palace, Hawa Mahal sits in the city’s center, engulfed by the droning hum of mopeds and smell of concrete and rubber. As we approached, I confronted this adventurous spirit, and I asked our driver to stop the car when possible. I nearly pulled my sister out of the back seat and led us across congested lanes of traffic and a barricaded median to climb the stairs of a building that faced Hawa Mahal from across the street. We needed to see it at eye level. “I really don’t know about this, Chelsea,” Sarah said. “Oh, we can do it!” I responded.

And we did it. And it was incredible. And we looked straight into the facade of Hawa Mahal in a world of our own, apart from the chattering crowd on the streets below us.

This is exactly who I am. And it is exactly who I briefly lost. And it is now exactly who I wish to give myself and my sons.

What’s most encouraging about this is I now know the absent parts of me are dormant, not gone. I find this reassuring because I’ve felt an absence of other qualities, too: physical strength and endurance, mental sharpness, and creative urgency. I’m coming out of my second postpartum season, and I believe these parts of me are still there and have been dormant, simply awaiting their time to awaken. Can I stay present enough to notice when they return?

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

I wrote a bonus newsletter in February fully dedicated to my India packing list. I always (always!) travel comfortably and in layers. To India, I wore a tried-and-true Nike set. (You can see the warmer-weather version under What I Wore here.) I always run cold, so this set is fitting because it’s quite warm.

If you run warm, though, a lighter pair of pants in particular will serve you well.

01: Eberjey: Eberjey x Lily Aldridge Inez Washable Silk Set, $298.00

02: Nike: Phoenix Fleece Oversized Crew-Neck Sweatshirt, $75.00

03: Nike: Phoenix Fleece High-Waisted Oversized Sweatpants, $75.00

04: Brooks: Glycerin Flex, $170.00

05: Reformation: Jessalyn Silk Dress, $248.00

06: Vince: Featherweight Cashmere Travel Wrap, $295.00

Mine is sold out, but here is another one I love by Quince.

07: Jenni Kayne: Suede Kitten Heel {Similar}, $445.00

What I Used:

No matter where in the world I am, Tennessee or Rajasthan, I rely on this simple meditation to remain present with myself:

Close your eyes. Breathe in for four seconds. Hold for four seconds. Breathe out for four seconds. Hold for four seconds.

Three rounds of this snaps me back into reality with a clearer head. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself to reach four seconds at each interval. The goal is to take three deep breaths.

What I Consumed:

Mumford and Sons’ newest album, Prizefighter, is pull-the-car-over good. Run Together, Conversations With My Son, Begin Again, and Stay are my current favorites.

I also love this clip of Marcus Mumford speaking so tenderly about his son.

Conversations With My Son has become so important to me because it captures a ritual Sullivan and I have, one I will soon have with Ellis, too. I write about this here. When listening to this album, Sullivan will ask, “Can you play ‘Hand Over My Heart’?”

Phew.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary and Wiley Canning Company:

February was a quieter month for both CJO and Wiley. While I love to travel and will continue to prioritize it, I’ve found it can be quite disruptive to work momentum. This isn’t necessarily a negative; I gather so much inspiration while traveling. But it’s a tradeoff I want to consider more deliberately moving forward.

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

I may earn a commission from affiliate links in this post. 10% of all revenue generated through my affiliate work will be directly donated to The Nashville Food Project.

See you soon!

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

Today’s newsletter is a bonus and focuses on my recent trip to India, a slight departure. It includes my personal packing list, categorized and ready to help you as you prepare for your next trip abroad.

Packing for a trip like this is, in many ways, an exercise in imagination. We try to anticipate what we will need, what will comfort us, and most excitingly, who we will be in a place we have not yet experienced.

To start, I’ve shared a short list of relevant notes below.

01: I traveled for a total of nine days, including travel days. I essentially packed for seven days and six nights in India. Agra was my home base for four days, and Alwar was my home base for three.

02: As I pack, I envision each day, and I pack an outfit for each specific day in one pile, including the outfit itself and its undergarments, as opposed to splitting my items into general piles of shirts, pants, underwear, etc. The entire outfit is together in my suitcase. This helps me ensure I have the right undergarments for each outfit.

03: Every bag has an AirTag.

04: I rewear pajamas, bras, and accessories. I also pack a separate pile of underwear to wear with my pajamas, separate from what I wear during the day. (You could not pay me to sleep in a thong, but I love ’em during the day.)

05: I am not known in my family as a light packer. I am, however, an organized packer, so no item below feels superfluous to me. I rewear pieces here and there, but getting dressed for fun while traveling is part of the joy!

06: I stayed in two hotels that offered laundry services. I almost always take advantage of this when traveling.

07: Packing cubes are a huge help!

08: There are lots of links below. Feel free to explore or ignore them.

Carry-Ons:

I packed two carry-ons: my backpack and my Away suitcase. Instead of packing my full camera case with multiple lenses, I chose one camera body and one camera lens, packed them in small case, and placed that in my Away suitcase. I have done the former in the past and decided to simplify for India. I’m glad I did!

Backpack:

Here is the backpack I use.

01: Tech:

• Phone

• Phone charger

• Laptop

• Laptop charger

• Apple watch

• Apple watch charger

• AirPods

• AirPods charger

• Hard drive (You may not need this. I travel with mine to store photos.)

• Adapters

• Screen cleaner (I use this size when traveling.)

• Microfiber cloth

02: Plane-Only Toiletries and Wellness Items:

• Flushable wipes

• Antibacterial wipes

• Contact case

• Contact solution

• Glasses

• Toothbrush

• Toothpaste

• Floss

• Cleansing pads

• Moisturizer

• Eyedrops

• Deodorant

• Lip balm

• Brush

• Claw clip

• Zofran

  • I am very prone to motion sickness, so I always travel with Zofran. Life changing.

• Ciprofloxacin

  • This is a ‘just in case’ medicine I prefer to have while traveling.

• Tylenol

• Electrolyte packets

• Tea bags

• Eye mask

• Refillable water bottle

04: Documents

• Passport

• Tourist Visa

• Wallet

Away suitcase:

Here is the suitcase I use.

01: Tech:

• Camera body

• Camera lens

• Spare batteries (All batteries must be packed in your carry-on, not in a checked bag, per TSA regulations.)

• Battery charger

• Memory card

• Card reader

02: Clothing and Accessories:

• Underwear

• Socks

• Small purse

• Sunglasses

• Jewelry

  • I wear my jewelry on the plane, but if there is a lingering piece, such as a piece that is too large to comfortably wear for long, it goes in my carry-on, not my checked bag. For India, I wore everything on the way there, and I packed two purchased necklaces on the way home.

I left nearly one half of my Away suitcase empty for gifts.

Note: This was a miscalculation for India specifically because of the textiles. Oh, the textiles! I purchased several in India (most of which will be available to you through Wiley Canning Company soon!) and needed to buy a suitcase to get everything home safely. Usually, though, part of my Away suitcase is plenty of space.

Checked Bag:

Here is the checked bag I use.

01: Checked Toiletries and Wellness Items:

• Shampoo

• Conditioner

• Body wash

• Hair serum

• Skincare

  • I transfer my skincare to travel containers when possible.

• Lotion

• Eye make-up remover

• Q-tips

• Cotton pads

• Tweezers

• Nail clippers

• Make-up

• Curling iron

• Hair ties

• Retainers

• Extra pair of contacts

• Body razor

• Face razor

• Stain stick

• Fragrance

02: Pajamas:

• Two sets of pajamas

  • I wore one set in Agra (for four nights) and one set in Alwar (for two nights). When traveling, I shower at night, so my body is clean when I put them on each night.

• One pair of underwear per night of sleep

  • I had six nights of sleep in India, so I packed six pairs of underwear for nights alone.

  • I prefer a fresh pair of cotton underwear at night.

03: Daily Outfits

I wore the same jewelry and same sunglasses every day.

• Day 01, Sunday:

  • This day was fully spent on an airplane.

    • T-shirt

    • Sweatshirt

    • Sweatpants

    • Bra

    • Underwear

    • Compression socks

    • Sneakers

    • Jewelry

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

I’m currently traveling to Delhi, India, where I’ll be for roughly eight hours before traveling south to Agra, famously home to the Taj Mahal.

Wow.

Agra is where my close friend, Emily, who is truly family to me, will be married this week, clothed in vibrant, intricate lehengas and sarees, the kind we’ve admired in our group text and love, surrounded by family and friends from the U.S. and India. This will be my first experience of an Indian wedding, and my anticipation is incredibly energizing.

Jared has stayed home with Sullivan and Ellis, a decision we made very carefully. While I already miss them very much, I’m grateful to feel more present and relaxed, knowing our sons are with Jared and rooted in their routine.

Thank you, Jared.

I created a thorough packing list for this trip, which I’ll share with you as a bonus newsletter this month. It might come in handy the next time you travel internationally. (My stereotypical Virgo tendencies shine when packing.)

As I prepared for my trip, I asked myself: what does it mean to have such an expansive and enriching experience—a trip to Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur, India—as an individual, without Jared, with whom I have shared nearly every expansive and enriching experience for nearly fourteen years? And without my sons?

I weighed every option for this trip, from traveling with Jared, to bringing Sullivan while Jared and Ellis stayed home, to attempting a full-family adventure.

One might ask instead: who am I without my partner? Who am I when I’m apart from my sons?

I appreciate how this trip encourages me to answer these important questions. Esther Perel says, “Love rests on two pillars: surrender and autonomy. Our need for togetherness exists alongside our need for separateness.”

I know how important it is to grow and expand as an individual. That growth, in turn, shapes how I show up as a partner and mother. A steady sense of self, particularly as a mother, stabilizes my family.

In anticipation of this trip, Jared and I celebrated Valentine’s Day and his birthday early. With two sons and an impending international trip, we did our best to set time aside for just the two of us. We took a day trip to Sewanee for Valentine’s Day, enjoyed a date night at Tailor for Jared’s birthday, and watched a new comedy special for an excuse to melt into the couch once our sons were asleep.

Below is our brief Sewanee itinerary, with time-stamped recommendations.

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The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

As I write this newsletter, my neighborhood hums with chainsaws and wood chippers. Winter Storm Fern has severely injured Nashville this week, leaving 90,000 homes without power for the seventh day, down from more than 200,000 at the start.

Two close friends have evacuated Nashville, among dozens of families, due to frozen sewage grinders and an estimated one to two additional weeks without power.

My family is among the lucky. We lost power for four days. Even writing that feels delicate. Four days is a long time, but it is generous compared to families now enduring a full week without power in single-digit temperatures, or families whose children attend schools in evacuation zones.

Any time I witness devastation like this, such as the downtown bombing on Christmas morning in 2020 or the tornado that tore through Nashville in March of that same year, I also witness something else.

I witness the best of humanity.

Jared, as many of you know, is a physician. He has signed death certificates in the presence of grieving families. He would tell you the same: in the face of sheer grief, it is most often true that our very best selves surface. Humanity powers up, like a brown bear waking from winter hibernation.

This is, in large part, what has validated my deliberate choice to ‘choose joy, though I have considered all the options’.

I have seen enough to believe we are wired to support one another. When belief systems dissolve, even momentarily, and we come into contact with our most essential humanity, we gravitate toward teamwork. It is our ideologies that divide us. Our humanity draws us toward one another.

Nashville has come together to clear fallen trees, gather branches from school campuses, and offer personally-owned trucks, trailers, and chainsaws to neighbors. Restaurants have provided free meals. Local properties have opened their doors as temporary warming shelters for the cold and unhoused. Friends have checked on one another. They’ve taken in pets. They’ve shared salt for icy driveways.

We have come toward one another.

The road to city-wide repair is long. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of mature trees need clearing. Tens of thousands of homes remain without power.

Throughout this season of repair, may we continue to move toward one another.

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

I wore my Flynn Cashmere Sweater repeatedly throughout December and have continued wearing it into January. It has become a true staple.

I haven’t yet done a color analysis for my wardrobe, but I wonder if bright red may be a part of my ideal palette. It warms the tone of my skin and softens the dark brown of my eyes.

Have you done an analysis yourself? If so, what did you learn?

When we lost power last Sunday, we quickly packed our bags and checked into Opryland. One way I cope with uncertainty is by cultivating routine and structure in a new environment. For example, I packed my planner and laptop and set up a small workspace in our hotel room. I packed my running shoes and AirPods to ensure I could move daily. I packed two comforting outfits beyond athleisure. I, of course, packed my camera. No matter where I am, photography brings me a sense of purpose. Dressing well also uplifts my mood and improves how I show up for myself and others, and this felt especially important while being temporarily displaced. When I want to feel casual, comfortable, and put together, my go-to is a pair of jeans and a crewneck.

01: Jenni Kayne: Flynn Cashmere Sweater, $325.00

02: Ulla Johnson: Aurelia Printed Stretch Jersey Turtleneck Top, $144.00 (On Sale)

03: Mother: Half-Pipe High Waist Ankle Jean, $280.00

04: Khaite: Small Lucca Belt, $650.00

Auruem offers a less expensive option here.

05: Jenni Kayne: Leather Bobby Boot {Similar}, $695.00

Target offers a less expensive option here.

06: The Met Store: Logo Appliquéd Unisex Champion Sweatshirt, $85.00

Dakota Johnson recently wore this, too. Heart eyes.

What I Used:

I am so grateful to partner with Namesake to bring Ellis’s nursery to life.

Creating his space gave me a strong sense of stewardship over my home, and I wrote about this below, as well as on my blog. Stewardship is the antithesis of envy, comparison, or longing, and taking great care of my home, and creating thoughtful, personal spaces for my sons, is a tried-and-true grounding practice for me.

07: Namesake: Liberty 6-Drawer Assembled Dresser, $999.00

08: Lulu and Georgia: Bemand Pendant Light, $498.00

09: Restoration Hardware: Scattered Butterly Wall Décor, $630.00

10: Namesake: Liberty 4-In-1 Convertible Spindle Crib, $699.00

11: Pottery Barn: Rope Frames, $29.50

12: Namesake: Liberty Assembled Bookcase, $899.00

13: Ethnik Living: Brassy Gold Organik Mirror, $329.00

You may continue reading below, as well as on Chelsea J. O’Leary.

What I Consumed:

I laughed. I cried. Mostly, I cried. I praised. I recommended.

Elizabeth Gilbert is one of my absolute favorite writers for good reason. All the Way to the River is a brut-al-ly honest memoir about falling in love with her best friend, severe co-dependence and drug addiction, death, grief, sobriety, and hope.

Although it is Heavy with a capital H, I will soon reread it, as I do with all of Elizabeth Gilbert’s work.

More joyfully, Mon Rovia’s debut album is now out, and it is simply masterful.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

“We take care of what we have,” is a phrase I often share with my sons.

“We notice what we have, and we take great care of those things.”

I typically say this after a toy has been thrown, or worse yet, dismissed as if it holds no value, when it is objectively quite new. When Sullivan in particular asks me about a new toy, I try to somehow distill the idea of more is not more for the consumption of his five-year-mind. More is not more; more is a dopamine hit, and we will not ever fill this well.

More is, instead, a part of knowing we have enough. It is a factor in the equation of enoughness. We have enough. We have more than enough. And, we take great care of what we have.

This feels sensitive to me as a mother because I struggle with the notion of more, too. Over time, my thirty-five-year-old mind has learned there is one practice that is consistently antithetical to wanting more, more, more. One might call this feeling envy, envy of what others have. And the practice that counters it, every time, is stewardship.

When I catch myself wanting more, or when I feel the pull of comparison or longing, I now know my only response is to take excellent care of what I already have. The efficacy? It works every time. I remember that the well of dopamine-driven desire will never be filled.

Most often, this realization finds me at home.

There will always be a home that feels aspirational, larger in square footage, newer in finishes, ideally located, more refined in design. I could build my dream home this year, and without a consistent practice of stewardship, this would still be true by next year.

Our current home is very us. It is also beautiful, drenched in sunlight any time the clouds are parted. The bedrooms are small, and we have used this as built-in encouragement to be thoughtful and restrained about what we bring inside.

Our home has seen countless iterations, once including a rentable photography studio and a dedicated guest bedroom, to our first nursery in our primary closet, to my desk behind a partition wall and half of our garage as a flexible play area. I am very proud of this. As we have grown our family, we have not pursued bigger, better, and more practical. We have made the absolute best use of what we have. We have taken great care of our home, and of our family, in this way.

When I came pregnant with Ellis, the baby I was always meant to have second, I knew it was going to cost me something very valuable. I might even use the word ‘holy’. Ellis was going to cost me my studio. This is precisely the room that would become his nursery, despite a complete absence of willingness to let it go. In turn, I knew I would arrange my desk elsewhere and take great care of its new home. I would create the warmest, most comforting nursery I could in its place, knowing it would fill an already-holy space, ‘a creative space turned space for what I have created’, if you will.

I envisioned a nursery for Ellis with darker wooden tones, as well as autumnal accents. Ellis is a November baby, and I wanted to mirror this in his second environment, his first being my womb. I drew on browns and caramels, as well as bronze and gold.

As I began to source furniture for his nursery, I found Namesake.

Namesake entered our home during a season of intuitive nesting. Their pieces felt aligned with how I think about my home: ever-evolving, deliberate, and durable. I personally gravitate toward uniformity and chose pieces from their Liberty Collection in Natural Walnut.

I am so very happy with how Ellis’s nursery came to life, in partnership with Namesake.

See more now, on Chelsea J. O’Leary.

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

Pineberry Jam (Subscriber Only)

Founder’s Talk 007: Resolutions (Subscriber Only)

Let’s Talk Sugar: Part 01

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

I may earn a commission from affiliate links in this post. 10% of all revenue generated through my affiliate work will be directly donated to The Nashville Food Project.

See you in February.

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This is an essay about a particular season of parenthood in which we currently find ourselves, one in which our sons prefer their dad. It’s important to me to say, from the start, that I know how healthy and normal it is for children to prefer one parent over another throughout different phases of their lives. We happen to be in a major “daddy phase,” and what follows is my attempt to name the tenderness and nuance of this chapter as honestly as I can.

I do not wish to complain or dramatize. I feel secure, and I am deeply grateful for the love my sons have for their father. And still, there is something here worth noticing.

Most days, this shows up during the transitional moments.

Jared, almost always, arrives home from work once I’m already home myself. I’m often in our kitchen with Sullivan and Ellis, serving them an early dinner while Jones pivots between them, kindly awaiting their fallen morsels. We quietly play jazz until Sullivan asks to play Taylor Swift, at which point we say in near unison, “Alexa, play Taylor Swift!”

“Alexa, volume up!”

While this time of day can often feel chaotic (and all too loud, overstimulating, and messy), it is also very precious, and more meaningfully, it is very us—Sullivan, Ellis, and me.

No matter where we are throughout this meal, and no matter how joyfully we are singing along to Fearless, this moment will be immediately interrupted and cast aside the second Sullivan and Ellis hear our garage door begin to open. Now, they know Daddy will walk in momentarily, at which point I move quietly offstage.

This may sound like a very normal dynamic to you, and, it is. Yet, it is also evocative, admittedly. It churns up quiet notes of gratitude within me, and it stirs up quiet notes of envy.

Sullivan and Ellis want to see their beloved dad, who not only works long hours outside of the home, but who is also keenly present, committed, and playful when he is home. He is a family-first man, and I, along with my sons, sense this commitment.

What’s more is that their preference for him has grown beyond the moment he arrives home. Sullivan and Ellis want Daddy all the time, it seems, and they fully own, and verbalize, this desire to me.

“Mommy, I want to sit by Daddy. Can you please move?”

“Mommy, why are you picking me up from school again? Where is Daddy?”

“Dada! Dada! Dada!”

I chose a life partner who I knew would be a fantastic father, and I was right. It’s no surprise to me that our sons deeply adore him.

It is also true that I am very attached to my sons, and deep down, I want to feel wanted just the same. Well, it’s truer to say: I want to be shown the effusive affection Jared is shown—because I know, really, how wanted, and needed, I am.

So, what do I do, what do we do, when our children prefer the other parent, and it causes us to feel a tinge of envy, or worse yet, self-doubt?

Shop This Post

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

Happy New Year.

Are you one who visualizes? Sets resolutions? I am and hope to always be.

Today, I’ll share one with you.

As I move into a new year, I will more often speak to myself the way I speak to Sullivan and Ellis. To start, this means I will speak out loud.

When I speak to Sullivan and Ellis, I’m genuinely curious about their experiences. I’m on their team. At Sullivan’s particular age, any time we are resolving a miscommunication, I say to him, “I’m on your team. We’re on the same team here.”

I’m kind to them.

I show them so much compassion. Patience. Humor. Benefit of the doubt.

Most mistakes are no big deal.

When I heard Kate Baer speak at Parnassus Books in November, she shared how she talks out loud to herself constantly. I felt an aha moment and decided I might try, too.

I will speak to myself the way I speak to a child whom I desperately love.

What about you?

Below, I’ve also shared three of my favorite ideas around New Year’s Day.

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

I’ve worn the same three outfits repeatedly this month: a festive set from Jenni Kayne, a layered look from Sézane, and of course, workout clothes beneath my weighted vest.

01: Jenni Kayne: Flynn Cashmere Sweater, $244.00 (On sale)

02: Jenni Kayne: Nina Slip Skirt, $222.00 (On sale)

I wore this set, styled somewhat differently each time, to almost every birthday and holiday event this month. I loved it on its own, as well as paired with a leather jacket or a second sweater draped over my shoulders.

03: Sézane: Clyde Trench Coat, $355.00

04: Sézane: Marianne Scarf, $105.00

I dressed in layers for our family photos and loved the color palette it created. You can also see my Sézane layers in December’s paid posts here, here, and here.

05: Zelus: 12 lb Weighted Vest, $28.99 (On sale)

06: Brooks: Adrenaline GTS 24, $109.95 (On sale)

What I Used:

Once I find a product I love, I rarely stray from using and recommending it. I’ve used the same planner, incense, lip gloss, and running shoes for years.

This year, my weighted vest and ankle weights {similar here} were the stars of the (wooded trail) show. If you saw an off-duty woman walking laps in her weighted vest and ankle weights this month, chances are, it was yours truly. I looked quite ridiculous, but who cares? Everyone is thinking about themselves anyway.

What I Consumed:

Annie Hartnett’s The Road to Tender Hearts is nuanced, hilarious, and poignant. I am officially requesting a movie adaptation, starring Ethan Hawke as PJ Halliday, co-directed by Greta Gerwig and Stella Blackmon.

This was my favorite podcast episode of the year, and this was my favorite album. This was my favorite speech, and this was my favorite movie.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

My website, Chelsea J. O’Leary, is refreshed!

I worked with Sofia Shackel of Locket Studio, a true muse, to create a more organized user experience. A few of my favorite features are below.

You can go directly to Wiley Canning Company from my homepage, as well as more fluidly explore my photography.

You can shop my full looks by photo, as well as by category.

You can now use a search feature on my blog, as well as explore it by category.

I continue to refine my site, but if there is any major error you find, please do let me know, and I will correct it. My hope is for my site to be easily navigable, thorough, and inspiring to you.

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

Sofia and I have almost finished Wiley Canning Company’s website update. I am so ready to share it with you in January or February.

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

I may earn a commission from affiliate links in this post. 10% of all revenue generated through my affiliate work will be directly donated to The Nashville Food Project.

See you in 2026!

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This post is three of three paid posts this month. Here is the first, and here is the second.

In most areas of my life, I would consider myself Type A. Although I know very little about astrology, every astrology-literate friend I have assures me I’m a classic Virgo.

I use the phrase ‘most areas’ deliberately. There are many scenarios in which I prefer to go with the flow rather than lead, moments when I genuinely don’t have an opinion about what’s optimal. My disposition also moves easily between extroversion and introversion. As a mother, for example, I’m quite extroverted. Give us the playdates! The holiday parties! The sideline chatter! Outside of my children, though, I could be alone and in silence for what others might consider a concerning amount of time.

This isn’t flippancy. It’s closer to humanness.

Every person, and every circumstance, has the ability to draw out a particular part of us. You likely have a friend who unlocks your silly, belly-laughing self and another who draws out your most thoughtful, serious mind. Some moments invite ease; others invite intensity.

We are capable of holding this same range internally. Humanness, at its best, is the ability to carry multiple emotional truths at once. Postpartum made this evident for me; it was an every-emotion-at-once experience. This month, we’ve been examining two of those emotions closely: resentment and gratitude. Specifically, we’ve talked about how resentment is informational and how gratitude is orienting.

But where do we turn when a need remains, when it’s harder to meet, even as it exists within a larger picture of luck and abundance?

This is where we consider integration.

Integration asks us not to solve or bypass our need, but to stay with it. It is often I say out loud to myself, “Stay with it.”

I work from home. Jared works at a hospital. This means I am more often the parent physically with our sons.

I take Sullivan to school each morning. I take Ellis to his doctor’s appointments. I load them into the car for Christmas shopping. I often travel alone with them. This is a reality I would ultimately choose, and still, it is not without tension.

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This post is two of three paid posts this month. Here is the first, with a brief explanation.

Yesterday, I wrote about resentment. I shared what happens when we carry an uncomfortable emotion long enough to tell us what we need. Resentment, when met with curiosity, becomes a mentor. It guides us toward clarity and solutions, even teamwork and intimacy.

What I didn’t say explicitly is this: resentment taught me about timing.

It taught me that clarity is rarely felt in the heat of a moment. Clarity arrives before or after—in the calm before the storm or the come-down.

I’ve come to see that this is true not only in marriage, but also in how I mother Sullivan and Ellis, and, perhaps most importantly, in how I mother myself.

When I want Sullivan to change a specific behavior, I ask him to change it outside of the moment he’s exhibiting that behavior. I do this because I’ve learned, through trial and error, that clarity cannot emerge when we’re already frustrated.

Here’s an example.

His bedtime routine was pushing an hour and a half until very recently. I caught myself asking him, “Can we hurry it up?”

“Sullivan, can you help me understand why it’s taking fifteen minutes to get undressed and into the bath?”

I become frustrated. Sullivan becomes frustrated. We’re stuck in a losing strategy.

I became worn down by the amount of time between finishing our last bite of dinner and kissing him goodnight.

One morning, on the way to school, I said, “Sullivan, can we talk about tonight’s bedtime routine?”

He said, “Sure, Mom!” as he gazed through the window, lunch box in his lap. There was no immediate ask of him, so he was able to hear and consider what I had to say.

“I would love to try something new at bedtime tonight,” I said. “We can work through our bedtime checklist together, like we always do. Tonight, though, I’m going to be strict about leaving your room at seven o’clock. If we delay bath time, I’m still going to leave your room at seven o’clock, which means we may not have as much time to read.”

He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Okay, Mommy.”

I continued, “And if you choose to call for me once I’ve tucked you in, you will choose to lose your walkie-talkies for a full week.”

He asked, “But Mommy, what if I need you?”

“Try asking yourself, ‘Can this wait until tomorrow?’” I added.

He was quiet for a few more seconds.

“Okay, Mommy!” he said.

Then, we changed the subject. The conversation was simple and brief. We moved on to chatting about The Eras Tour and playing its setlist.

That evening, I told him how much I appreciated our conversation that morning, how I was excited to try this new approach with him. We were a team, and I believed we could do it.

To my most pleasant surprise, it worked.

We are now several weeks into this new approach, and it’s becoming more and more of our new normal. We had this same conversation on the way to school for several mornings, to reinforce our approach. He has even said, “Mommy, any time I want to call for you, I realize I can wait until tomorrow!” The key, for us, was discussing this outside of bedtime, as well as having very clear boundaries and consequences.

Every child is different, of course. For Sullivan in particular, he does best with consistent and visual boundaries: a handheld checklist and an illuminated ‘7:00 p.m.’ on his clock. He also does best when he knows ahead of time what his consequence will be should he make a specific choice: the loss of walkie-talkies if he chooses to call me back to his room (typically to spend five minutes telling me his new favorite bead on his bracelet looks like a lily pad).

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This post is one of three paid posts this month. I missed my opportunity to send paid posts in September and October (November’s paid post is right here), and I’m eager to offer more to you this month, and always.

The most complex and transformative season of my life, to date, was the first year of Sullivan’s life. I experienced what felt like the widest possible range of emotions I could hold at once: elation, exhaustion, clarity, confusion, and loneliness, to name only a few. If I were to say, “The list goes on and on and on,” what I would mean is that, aside from regret itself, there was not an emotion I did not carry. I held them tenderly, my emotions, like I did my newborn son, with my humanity on full display.

On this miles-long list of felt emotions was resentment.

Specifically, my resentment was directed toward Jared. I resented him for having an unharmed body. Jared could walk out of our front door for a long run, and I could not. I had vaginal sutures and an adult diaper full of blood—unable to use the restroom without wincing in pain. A run? A coping mechanism on which I depended throughout the entirety of my adult life? It was out of the question.

I also resented him for his ability to return to work without complication or logistical burden. Jared was the higher earner and at the height of his career, and we decided, together, that I would be with Sullivan full-time to begin. This was a decision I took equal part in making, and yet, I missed my work very quickly and very deeply.

I fully and confidently pursued becoming a mother. I wanted, more than anything, to become pregnant and bring a child—our son—into a world I coveted. I played a present and equal role in defining our new way of life as parents. Why, then, did I now look at my husband and feel envy? Grief? Resentment?

I had enough emotional wherewithal to admit, barely and only to myself, that my confrontation with resentment had nothing to do with Jared at all. It had everything to do with me and my own unmet needs. And if I needed an ally to meet them, Jared would be first in line.

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

What is something that makes you feel more you? Or, perhaps a better question to ask is: what is something that brings you closer to the version of yourself you most want to be?

For me, the answer is writing. The version of myself I most want to be is someone who feels clear, and the act of writing helps me access this. Recently, I’ve gone to great lengths to protect this feeling. I decline a glass of wine. I leave alone my phone. I wake up early to write.

I saw Stephen Wilson, Jr. perform at The Ryman last week. I am unable to pinpoint a time in the past I felt so moved by an artist. I have never witnessed someone perform with such reverence. I was deliberately sober for this show, and I hardly touched my phone. It was one of the very best shows I have seen in my life, and in hindsight, I am so very grateful I felt so present and embodied for it. A woman in front of me was so drunk that she slept through several songs. A man down the aisle from her stumbled out for several restroom breaks. They missed so much of this defining performance, but I did not; I was so fully in it—present, embodied, and clear. This was a human at his very best, Stephen Wilson, Jr., fully aware he was smack dab in the middle of a decades-long dream coming true, and I was there to see it. The next morning, I woke up early to write.

For you, though, perhaps the answer isn’t writing at all. Perhaps the answer is yoga. No, pilates is more your jam. Lifting weights in your shed. A phone call with your grandmother. A five-minute meditation before your first virtual meeting. Alone time with your partner. As ordinary as it sounds, because it is, it’s ironing your outfit to show up feeling prepared, like you’ve taken this moment seriously, like you are fully aware you are smack dab in the middle of a dream coming true.

What is something that makes you feel more you?

It’s nearly 5:30 a.m., and I’m sitting silently on my couch. Albert, our big-bellied, polydactyl cat, is curled up next to me. His purr rattles my thigh, as usual.

On Thanksgiving morning, we set up our Christmas tree. Its lights twinkle in my periphery, still perfectly in their place before getting innocently destroyed (err, edited) by Ellis’s curious hands, still small enough that his knuckles are not knuckles at all, but rather tiny dimples, abruptly reminding me that the baby stage does not last forever.

This is a big deal. This quiet time is sacred to me. It’s sacred to me because I almost always use it to write. If I surrender an early morning to additional sleep, I lose my favorite time of day to write. If I lose my favorite time of day to write, I drift further from what feels like my internal anchor, a source to which, or to whom, I’m tethered for clarity. It’s not dramatic to say I feel somewhat lost when I haven’t made time to write. And, throughout the past year, since Ellis was born, I didn’t take this habit as seriously as I could have. I’m paying for that now. I have drifted. I have felt less clear.

I have committed to this time more consciously because, without it, I now know what it costs me. When I sit down to write, I tug on the rope to which my anchor is tethered, as if I need to check that the line is still there, now more aware that it is profoundly needed. The line is always there.

The version of myself I most want to be is someone who feels clear. I am newly committed to my pursuit of her—with intellectual and spiritual sobriety.

Ellis turned one year old this month. More than anything, his first year of life brought me healing, but this is an essay for another day. Next week, Sullivan will turn five. This is an exciting, rewarding time as their mother.

I landed in Nashville the day before Ellis’s first birthday. I was in New York for a weekend—where I had two days of coveted alone time, as well as visits with several friends. This trip also brought me healing, but again: another essay, another day.

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

When I was in New York, I wore several Quince pieces repeatedly. Before Quince, though, I have to tell you about a bra I am lov-ing. I was tempted to write, ‘I’m not being paid to say this,’ because I’m not, but I do not and will not recommend anything to you I don’t genuinely love and support, payment or no payment.

The bra is the EBY Pain Free T-Shirt Bra. It is so comfortable, and it gives me a subtle lift, which is very appreciated after breastfeeding two babies. I’m wearing it as we speak. I also purchased their Sheer Bralette and Sheer Brief.

This month, I have also reached for my Quince jackets, jeans, and sunglasses—for both travel and daily wear.

01: Quince: 100% Leather Cropped Zip-Front Jacket, $225.00

02: Quince: Bella Stretch Relaxed Straight Jeans, $50.00

03: Quince: Italian Leather Triple Compartment Shopper Tote, $149.90

04: Quince: Venice Polarized Stainless Steel Sunglasses, $50.00

You can also see these sunglasses in August’s post here, as well as in my joint post for September and October here.

05: Staud: Wally Suede Ankle Boots, $395.00

06: EBY: Pain Free T-Shirt Bra, $69.00 (On sale)

07: EBY: Sheer Bralette, $59.00 (On sale)

08: EBY: Sheer Brief, $23.00 (On sale)

What I Used:

While I was in New York, I popped into a nearby Sephora and purchased my first-ever Rare Beauty item: the Soft Pinch Tinted Lip Oil Stain in Wonder. Obsessed. This is the first time I’ve branched out beyond Chanel and Summer Fridays in years. This oil stain will become a staple in my makeup drawer. I will snap a selfie while wearing it and post it here.

Added April 2026: Soft Pinch Tinted Lip Oil Stain in Wonder

What I Consumed:

Since his show at The Ryman, where he had a photo of his late father taped to his beaten up guitar, I’ve exclusively listened to Stephen Wilson, Jr., except for when Sullivan asks to hear Opalite. I am so devoted. There is no parasocial or pedestal-placing phenomenon here—only a deep admiration for an artist who seems to be in pursuit of his truest self and quietly resistant to clout.

My favorite songs by him at this moment are Hometown, Grief Is Only Love, and Kid, but I truly love this entire album.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

The Moon 2G High Chair

Quince in New York, New York

Last month, I shared that I am working with Sofia Shackel of Locket Studio to update my website. I will be ready to share this with you in December(!), right here on Substack.

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

I’ve begun to regularly volunteer at The Nashville Food Project and am having so much fun with my team. (I sign up to volunteer on the Donation Sorting and Preserving team every other Tuesday.)

As a reminder, 10% of all revenue from Wiley Workshops and Community Events will be donated to The Nashville Food Project long term. Additionally, 10% of all affiliate revenue, through my ShopMy storefront, will be donated to The Nashville Food Project long term. You can read more about this commitment here.

To mention Wiley Canning Company’s ongoing website update, our current timeline takes us into 2026. As promised, I will also share it with you as soon as it’s ready.

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

I may earn a commission from affiliate links in this post. 10% of all revenue generated through my affiliate work will be directly donated to The Nashville Food Project.

See you in December!

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

Jared’s and my relationship, we’ve realized, is quite logistical. We credit this to Sullivan and Ellis, who require constant logistical attention, as well as our aging pets.

Sullivan’s lunch is packed and ready.

Did you feed Jones this morning?

Ellis has a check-up at ten o’clock. I’ll let you know how it goes.

Any chance you could pick Sullivan up from school today?

My mom called. Would the weekend of December 13 work for a visit?

This season of life invites us to logistically thrive, to lean into the fullness of family life, rather than resist it. There is so much to coordinate each week, and together, Jared and I make a great team.

Recently, though, I was walking near our family cabin, alone, and I felt a sense of sadness as I thought about our marriage. This felt confusing; all was well, generally speaking. Why did I feel a sense of loss, then, once I found a quiet moment to think about Jared, to think about us?

Although we have the logistics of our family down to a science—the color-coded Google calendar, routine appointments, and overarching designated roles we each fulfill—we are missing an important and sustaining ingredient: friendship.

This, our friendship, is precisely what feels lost right now, patiently and forgivingly waiting to be found and prioritized.

The evening of my walk, I said to Jared, “Today, I was thinking about how much I miss our friendship.”

He lovingly grinned and said, “Life has felt way too heavy on the logistics lately, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” I said, and I continued sharing how this is unlikely to change any time soon. In fact, I do not necessarily want it to change. A Google calendar, appointments, and designated roles are key rules of the parenting game, one we have only begun to play.

We gave each other a huge hug, which was soon joined by Sullivan. We let the conversation be.

Then, that evening, as I was tucking Sullivan into bed, he whispered a phrase that suddenly helped me see how to best move forward.

Read more

The CJO Review is typically a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

Fall in Nashville has arrived (hooray!), painting our days a crisp, vibrant, multicolored backdrop. This is my favorite time of year—without a doubt. The transitional, back-to-school energy of this season feels hopeful and exciting to me.

I celebrated my 35th birthday in September. My birthday always feels like my personal New Year. I carefully plan my day, request to celebrate at home in my pajamas with my family, and take stock of the past year. I keep my birthday quite simple, logistically, and I always enjoy it.

Ellis also celebrated his first Halloween. Although his nickname is ‘Dove’, he dressed as a cozy polar bear. The cuteness! Sullivan was a dragon this year, but even more than that, he was a braver, more evolved version of himself. For the past two years, Halloween was not a holiday he enjoyed. The costumes scared him. The parties overwhelmed him. The hullabaloo of it all did not interest him. This Halloween, though, he slipped into his costume the moment it arrived, and he genuinely delighted in our various parties.

As parents, we never know when our children’s perspectives might shift, or when something will finally ‘click’ for them. Our job is to stay patient and trust that their time will come.

I found both Ellis’s and Sullivan’s costumes at Hanna Anderson, here and here. Comfort and warmth are key for us.

How has this season been for you?

This fall, I have considered the following idea:

I believe we, as people, are innately good.

Algorithmic behavior will do its best to convince us that we are fundamentally at odds with each other, that we are more dishonest than we are kind, and that we are more interested in serving ourselves, rather than our neighbors and communities.

While I can understand how one might arrive at this conclusion, I detest it completely.

People are innately good. I recognize there are exceptions to every rule, but the rule remains: we are good, and we are in pursuit of good. For every person—every leader, politician, or wrongdoer—who seeks to disempower, there are one hundred people who seek to dignify those around them. This is not a naïve opinion to hold. It is a conscious, experience-driven belief upheld by unwavering evidence.

The media is currently obsessed with this month’s jewel heist at the Louvre. Sure; it’s logistically quite intriguing. However, has it convinced an entire nation, or worse, the world, to believe we are surrounded by more danger than goodheartedness? When I look at my community, absent of provocative headlines, I see people taking great care of each other.

Throughout the past week alone, I have witnessed the following:

My neighbor feeds the stray cats who reside in our neighborhood. Not only does she feed them, but she also sets up small shelters with heating pads this time of year. She is out of town this week, and she asked if a fellow neighbor could set food out to ensure the strays do not go hungry. Several neighbors volunteered.

On Saturday, our family was packing our car for Sullivan’s baseball game when we realized we left his baseball gear—hundreds of dollars worth of equipment—at a public field three weeks prior. We drove to this field to rule out the possibility of finding it there. When we arrived, we found his gear exactly as we had left it. It was neither harmed nor stolen—for three weeks—from a public park. Do you know how many people have to walk by and choose honesty for this to be true?

We traveled to Hilton Head during Sullivan’s fall break, where we rented a property with our extended family. Upon arriving home in Nashville, I realized I left my jewelry—an heirloom watch and vintage bracelet—at our rental. We were rushing to catch an early flight home, and I set aside my jewelry to ensure it made it into my carry-on. But, I failed to pack it all. I called the rental company and left a despondent voicemail—feeling a severe sense of embarrassment and regret. Less than an hour later, they returned my call with news they had found my jewelry, were keeping it safe, and would be happy to return it to me. It has since been returned.

In addition to the stories above, I recently noticed lost artwork taped to a tree on a high-traffic nature trail, awaiting its creator, as well as several members of our Nashville community collecting food for Second Harvest Food Bank as threat against SNAP increases. This is grassroots love, and it is productive, stable, and unending.

This is one week’s worth of human kindness. I am so moved by what I observe when I pay attention. Before, I have written about the following idea:

If we wish to improve the world, we must start by taking care of our country. If we wish to improve our country, we must first take care of our state.

No matter what generates clicks and views online, we can immediately see the goodness of others when we turn to our neighbors and communities.

We are innately good.

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

We traveled to Hilton Head Island over fall break for a family wedding. I always travel in comfortable clothing and spend the first day in a new place settling into our remote routine. I have flown with our sons nearly fifty times (I’m so proud of this!), and it is absolutely true that I am in ‘sport mode’ on travel days. I embrace these chaotic days as full-day endurance events and dress accordingly.

01: Quince: Venice Polarized Stainless Steel Sunglasses, $50.00

You can also see these sunglasses in August’s post here.

02: Nike: Phoenix Fleece Oversized Crew-Neck Sweatshirt, $29.98 (On sale)

03: Nike: Phoenix Fleece Mid-Rise 4” Shorts, $24.73 (On sale)

04: New Balance: 990 V6 Sneakers, $200.00

05: Hanes: Ultimate Women’s Ankle Socks, $14.00 (On sale)

06: La Ligne: Mol Tee, $135.00

There is a new La Ligne brick-and-mortar in 12 South if you want to see and try their clothing in person.

07: Aritzia: Dossier Short, $110.00

08: Quince: Venice Polarized Stainless Steel Sunglasses, $50.00

09: Aeyde: Medea Leather Knee Boots, $945.00

We also squeezed in an October day on the lake. Sweater weather on the water is chef’s kiss. Also, love is Jared angling the boat for optimal lighting on my skin. Ha!

10: Quince: 100% Organic Cotton Split Hem Turtleneck Sweater, $49.90

11: Bumpsuit: Wide Leg Pant, $140.00

These are technically maternity pants, but they still work well for me one year postpartum. I loved wearing them pregnant, too. I loved being pregnant.

12: Celine: Black Frame 04 Sunglasses In Acetate {Similar}, $390.00

What I Used:

The moment I stopped nursing Ellis (I wrote about this here), I started my not-safe-for-breastfeeding skincare products and procedures. I immediately booked a micro-needling appointment (my first!) and began using prescription-grade tretinoin, ‘Tretinoin 0.025%’, every other day. This is truly a life hack: prescription-grade tretinoin. With insurance, it’s an affordable way to get highly effective skincare.

I see Dina Gluck at Nashville Skin, a nurse practitioner, for my dermatology care. I am not quite ready to recommend anyone for micro-needling and laser treatments. I am still finding my groove here. As soon as I establish a great routine with someone I trust with my skin, I will share.

What I Consumed:

A dear friend of ours, Kathleen, recommended an episode of Jay Shetty’s On Purpose to me. He interviewed Emma Watson, and Kathleen was sure I would enjoy it. Not only was I deeply moved by Emma, but I also felt validated and encouraged by her wisdom. This interview brought me to tears.

Jared recently introduced me to Mon Rovîa, and I cannot get enough of him! My current favorites include Outlaw For Your Love, Field Song, Devil Swear I’ve Seen, Amplify Her, and It All Ends When You Do.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

I am currently working with Sofia Shackel of Locket Studio to update my website. Once our updates are complete, I will share them with you here!

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

Sofia and I are also migrating Wiley Canning Company’s website from Squarespace to Shopify. Our current timeline takes us into 2026, but as soon as our Shopify site is ready, I will also share it with you!

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

I may earn a commission from affiliate links in this post. 10% of all revenue generated through my affiliate work will be directly donated to The Nashville Food Project.

See you next time.

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

Today, I’d love to offer you these words—a morning poem or prayer—by Mary Jean Irion.

“Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, savor you, bless you before you depart. Let me not pass you by in quest of some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it will not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, or bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky, and want more than all the world your return.”

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

Temperatures have slowly cooled this month, and each morning for school drop-off, I’ve reached for easy layers. I’ve worn this sweater repeatedly this month.

01: Quince: 100% Organic Cropped Cotton Polo Sweater, $49.90

02: Aritzia: Butter Cheeky Infinite Hi-Rise 5" Short, $48.00

03: Quince: Venice Polarized Stainless Steel Sunglasses, $50.00

04: Hunza G: Gingham Seersucker Shirt, $270.00

05: Reformation: Gale Satin Mid-Rise Bias Pant, $198.00

06: Hunza G: Domino Embellished Seersucker Swimsuit, $270.00

What I Used:

This month, I used the last of favorite incense, BLACKBIRD. Here and there, BLACKBIRD sells Factory Seconds, and they work just as well as their high-quality cones for sale year round. My favorites are Ai, Gorgo, and Star.

What I Consumed:

On a whim, I recently scrolled through past episodes of On Being with Krista Tippett. I chose to listen to an interview with Nick Offerman from 2023. It is true to say this is one of the most moving podcasts I have ever consumed.

“Here are the jobs of my whole family in Minooka: three librarians, two school teachers, farmers out the wazoo, paramedic, craft beer [laughs] craft brewer. I think that’s everybody. A couple people work in the administration for a seed corn company. But, by and large, it’s a family of people who give their lives in service. They’re humble. They’re generous. I hold them in such high regard.”

Nick Offerman is poetic, compassionate, and an absolute delight to experience in this episode.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

I’m currently partnering with HAPP as I use and capture their Paige Carryall. See more on Instagram here and on my blog here.

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

Founder’s Talk 006: Hosting (Subscriber Only)

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

10% of all revenue generated through my affiliate work will be directly donated to The Nashville Food Project.

See you very soon!

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

We’ve lived in our current home for five years. I love our home very much; I have since the moment we toured. It’s true to say it’s a joy to me—a coveted hobby—to take great care of our home. It’s more than a possession. It’s our safe place, the environment where we return to be at peace. We’re extraordinarily lucky in this way.

It’s the first-ever home of Sullivan, and it’s the first-ever home of Ellis. It has borne witness to the growth of Jared’s and my marriage and family, new friendships, a pandemic, and a long list of lived experiences that have softened our edges.

Recently, I fell in love with my home in a deeper, renewed, and palpable way. My theory is that this is the result of beginning to slowly house hunt. Seeing others’ homes has made me think, “Oh, but I love our home.”

I straightened the books on our shelves and repainted our white walls, formerly covered in four-year-old handprints and inevitable scuffs. I further organized my garage, upgraded our most-used appliances, and repotted our plants that have grown too big for their current vessels.

There was, however, one change that made our home feel truly ours, nearly a half-decade into residing here.

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

If you spend any time online today, you will likely see news of the harrowing war between Israel and Gaza—specifically about the longstanding blockade of aid into Gaza, causing severe illness, starvation, and death among Palestinians, many of them children. It may be the most visible war in history; it is impossible to remain unaware of its atrocities, despite being one of several wars currently taking place, including war between Russia and Ukraine, civil wars in Yemen, Sudan, and Myanmar, and several ongoing conflicts around the world, most of which are actively resulting in mass famine and heinous, sexual torture.

I am neither a journalist nor a news source, and I am not an expert in international relations. I am no one to whom you should listen about the years-long war between Israel and Palestine, or any war, past or present.

I am, simply, a human born into extraordinary luck who has been extraordinarily lucky, wondering, “How can I possibly help?”

I don’t know what to do.

So, what do I do?

What do we do when don’t know what to do?

If we wish to create prosperity in our world, we must create prosperity in our country.

If we wish to create prosperity in our country, we must create prosperity in our state, or region.

If we wish to create prosperity in our state, we must create prosperity in our city.

If we wish to create prosperity in our city, we must create prosperity in our community.

Ultimately, if I—Chelsea O’Leary—wish to help create a more prosperous world, I must begin here, in my community, in Nashville, Tennessee.

How, then, can I contribute to a prosperous Nashville?

How can I be a contributing member of my community? My industry?

How can I ensure that the children, all children, of Nashville do not experience social and political unrest? Violence? Hunger?

When we don’t know what to do, we must begin in our own community.

What organization can I begin, or continue, supporting in Nashville?

Where can I volunteer in Nashville?

How can I contribute more meaningfully to my community? My industry?

These are the questions we must ask ourselves. If you replace ‘Nashville’ with your city, where might you begin?

I may not be able to immediately combat starvation in Palestine, but I can take meaningful, immediate action against hunger here in Nashville.

This is what I can do. This is what we can do.

From this day forward, both my personal work, through Chelsea J. O’Leary, and my business, Wiley Canning Company, will support The Nashville Food Project.

In Nashville alone, one in seven people lacks access to enough food to sustain a healthy lifestyle. Meanwhile, roughly 40% of food in Nashville goes to waste. The mission of The Nashville Food Project is to create food security for all Nashville residents, and I, and Wiley Canning Company, will now be an indefinite part of this.

Through Wiley Canning Company, to begin, coordinated volunteer opportunities will be shared, and 10% of all revenue from Wiley Workshops and Community Events will be donated to The Nashville Food Project long term. Additionally, 10% of all affiliate revenue, through my ShopMy storefront, will be donated to The Nashville Food Project long term.

It may seem as though efforts in support of The Nashville Food Project have little to do with unfolding wars worldwide. However, I would argue these efforts are deeply connected to the pursuit of a safer, more peaceful, and more just world. I am simply beginning with what’s in front of me: my beloved community, here in Nashville, Tennessee.

How can you join me?

Is there an organization in your city that can use your time, talent, or resources?

If you would like to join me in supporting The Nashville Food Project, you can sign up for the Wiley Weekly Newsletter, where I will share all volunteer and donation opportunities.

If you earn affiliate revenue through platforms like ShopMy, you can also consider a recurring donation at a percentage of revenue that feels sustainable for you, beginning as low as 1%. (Do not scoff at 1%. This amount is impactful.)

While I have chosen to concentrate my efforts on The Nashville Food Project, I also highly recommend Hands On Nashville as a place to begin.

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

I plan to continue sharing what I wear each month. My wardrobe can, hopefully, be impactful, in addition to impacting me by giving me confidence and comfort. As I’ve written above, 10% of revenue earned through my ShopMy storefront will be donated to The Nashville Food Project.

01: Jenni Kayne: Cotton Slim Tee, $95.00

Quince has a similar tee, for $19.90, here.

02: Jenni Kayne: Chloe Crewneck, $295.00

Quince has a similar sweater, for $49.90, here.

03: Jenni Kayne: Crochet Raffia Sun Hat, $195.00

04: Celine: Black Frame 04 Sunglasses, {Similar}, $520.00

05: Birkenstock: Arizona Droplet Buckle, $189.95

06: Brooks: Adrenaline GTS 24, $140.00

07: Left On Friday: Streamline Suit, $180.00

What I Used:

Recently, Sullivan and I have started making homemade fruit and vegetable juice together. We stick to celery juice, mostly, because it’s nearly 95% water, by weight, and it’s genuinely delicious and hydrating. We use and love this juicer.

What I Consumed:

I’ve recently committed to the work of Natalie Goldberg, an author of 16 books and Zen practitioner, beginning with Writing Down the Bones, first published in 1986. I hope to read her work in chronological order throughout the next several months. I discovered her on Making Sense, and I was instantly enthralled. Here is a gift link to her episode on Making Sense.

Next, I rarely check Facebook, and even more rarely, I pause to watch a video that’s been fed to me by the algorithm.

Recently, though, I checked Facebook, and when I did, I paused.

I played a video of Tim Minchin’s 2013 commencement address at the University of Western Australia. Commencement addresses often capture my attention, and I’m glad I stumbled across this one at this specific moment in time.

This is, truly, one of the best monologues I have heard in a very long time. I’m fascinated by commencement speeches, for some reason. It must be because I believe they are one of the most challenging things to write, and I’m very interested in what speakers choose to say. Even in nearly 100° heat this week in Nashville, I had chills listening to this one while out on my runs.

In his address, Tim Minchin shares nine life lessons, and one lesson stood out to me as particularly refreshing.

“You don’t have to have a dream. Americans on talent shows always talk about their dreams. Fine. If you have something you’ve always wanted to do or dreamed of—like in your heart—go for it. After all, it’s something to do with your time, chasing a dream. And if it’s a big enough one, it’ll take you most of your life to achieve, so by the time you get to it and are staring into the abyss of the meaninglessness of your achievement, you’ll be almost dead, so it won’t matter.

I never really had one of those dreams, and so I advocate passionate dedication to the pursuit of short-term goals. Be micro-ambitious. Put your head down, and work with pride on whatever is in front of you. You never know where you might end up. Just be aware: the next worthy pursuit will probably appear in your periphery, which is why you should be careful of long-term dreams. If you focus too far in front of you, you won’t see the shiny thing out of the corner of your eye.”

This speech is full of standout ideas like this, and I encourage you to listen here.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

Family Travel with STATE: Part 01

Family Travel with STATE: Part 02

Los Cabos, Mexico

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

The Wiley Weekly Newsletter is now sent every Sunday at 4:00pm CT to Wiley subscribers and 5:00pm CT to our general mailing list. You can read more about this shift here.

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here.

I will see you here in August.

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

In the near future, on Substack, I’m hosting an AMA about marriage and motherhood. No topic is off limits.

Several of you submitted questions on Instagram—about repair work, money management, communication breakdown, and more—when I recently posted a question box, but if you have additional questions, please share them in the comments below or privately on Instagram.

Sullivan was born with a severe tongue tie. I use the word ‘severe’ because the tip of his tongue was completely tethered to his bottom gum, allowing it very little mobility. I struggled to nurse him until we revised his tie at three months old. By then, my nervous system was so overstressed that I slowly began to incorporate formula. I write about this experience in detail here.

Ellis, on the other hand, nursed easily from the start. I looked forward to nursing him every two to three hours, including through the night, because of how redemptive and healing it was for me, a mother who had longed to nurse her first son with the same ease.

Unexpectedly, though, Ellis lost interest in nursing last month. He would latch for a couple of seconds, and then he would unlatch, disinterested. Because our nursing relationship felt so natural and ease-filled, I envisioned nursing him well into toddlerhood. I thought, “We can wean around two years old.”

When Ellis lost interest, I felt profoundly disappointed. I wasn’t ready to stop. And yet, of course, I could not force him to stay latched. I explained what had happened to our beloved pediatrician, and she gave me the sweetest, most sound advice I could have wished to hear.

Read more

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere. This segment in particular is free.

Envision this: you are 80 years old.

It’s a Sunday morning. You’re home, and you’re sitting quietly observing your family—your children and grandchildren—as they gather their many bags and shoes and head out the door. They’ve just finished brunch with you, and they’re off to various sporting events and birthday parties for the rest of the day.

Someone, only perceptible to you, comes along and tells you, “You can return to the moment you’re in right now.” Suddenly, you’re back here, reading this Substack post, on a humid, sunny Monday in June, as your washer hums or your spouse changes his clothes upstairs. You’re back in this ordinary moment, given the rare chance to experience it a second time.

I use this exercise as a very simple way to experience gratitude, particularly in times of stress, frustration, or tiredness.

Last night, Ellis woke up around midnight and could not self-soothe. “He must be teething,” I mumbled to Jared. I walked sleepily into his room, mildly frustrated, scooped him into my arms, and felt his body melt into mine. As I sat rocking him in the dark, I imagined myself at 80—watching a grown Ellis gather his leftovers and car keys to leave my house. From that vantage point, I would give anything to return to this moment: holding my eight-month-old son in my arms, his chest rising and falling against mine.

My frustration gave way to something sacred. “I get to have this moment,” I thought.

Give it a try.

Now, to review…

What I Wore:

Jared, Sullivan, Ellis, and I returned on Saturday from a full week in Los Cabos, Mexico, our first international trip as a family. At least once a day, I used the exercise above. When I was sweating through my clothes, wondering if Ellis was well covered in sunscreen, I pictured myself at 80 years old. “You can return to the moment you’re in right now, to experience it a second time.” When I witnessed Sullivan’s sheer awe as he watched countless manta rays jump from the Pacific, I pictured myself at 80 years old. “You can return to the moment you’re in right now, to experience it a second time.” When I brought Ellis into bed with Jared and me in the middle of the night, unable to fall back asleep, I pictured myself at 80 years old. “You can return to the moment you’re in right now, to experience it a second time.”

While any family trip includes its promised stressors, our time in Cabo was rooted in presence, genuine gratitude, and a desire to have fun as a family. Each day, we said, “Let’s make it a great day.”

Below are my stand-out clothing items from our trip. You can see my full packing list here.

01: Hunza G: Gingham Seersucker Shirt, $270.00

02: Hunza G: Gingham Seersucker Shorts, $175.00

03: Left On Friday: Streamline Suit, $180.00

04: Hunza G: Stretch-Jersey Pareo, $135.00

05: STATE: Wellington Cabana Tote, $165.00

06: Ancient Greek Sandals: Eleftheria Sandals, $145.00

07: Celine: Oval-Frame Silver-Tone and Acetate Sunglasses, $550.00

What I Used:

I used my STATE Wellington Cabana Totes, in Black and Spice, every day in Cabo. They’re easy to carry, waterproof, and stylistically versatile.

What I Consumed:

I loved this cover story, so very much, of Natalie Portman. I especially loved this line:

“So much of being a woman who’s trying to do it all is just being tired and overwhelmed and not having any time to yourself. So, you have to demand it for yourself—and you have to give it to yourself.”

Read the full feature here.

The Latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary:

I partnered with Sézane to style and photograph the Elvina Dress. I look forward to editing additional photos from our trip, and I will share them here next month!

The Latest at Wiley Canning Company:

Strawberry Orange Marmalade (Subscriber Only)

Our first Summer Solstice Dinner took place at Blueberry Hill Cabin this month, and it was absolutely wonderful. Without a doubt, I would love to host this annually. I plan to share photos from this special evening in the coming days.

Elsewhere:

Substack includes only this bi-monthly newsletter: The CJO Review. Between each Substack post, we can stay connected through my blog, Wiley Canning Company’s News Feed, and the Wiley Weekly Newsletter.

I am also on ShopMy and Amazon.

You can view past reviews here. You can shop this Substack post here. The exercise shared above was first taught to me by Leila Giannetti.

See you in July.

Share The CJO Review

The CJO Review is a bi-monthly newsletter. It’s a casual, straightforward look at what I learned, wore, used, and consumed. Here, I also share the latest at Chelsea J. O’Leary, Wiley Canning Company, and elsewhere.

This segment in particular, Lessons in Marriage and Motherhood, is written for paid subscribers and focuses on intimate, shared experiences with my partner, Jared, and sons, Sullivan and Ellis. You can view additional paid segments here.

This post is my final paid post this month. Here is the first, second, and third.

We traveled internationally for the first time as a family last week. Sullivan, Ellis, Jared, and I—along with my sister, brother-in-law, and niece—spent the week in Los Cabos, Mexico. This concentrated time together was quite timely. Sullivan has recently had a bout of separation anxiety, and an entire week spent side by side was strengthening for us both.

As we’ve worked through this unexpected stretch, one meaningful ritual has stood out as especially helpful.

Read more