As a kid, did you ever wonder what you’d be like as an adult? Did you ever try to picture what you’d look like, act like, be like? When I was twelve, I used to try and picture myself as old, an adult, you know like, twenty-five. Because back then, twenty-five sounded really old. And, … Continue reading But you’re like, twelve… (This is thirty).
I once heard it said that we raise our children up to actually send them out. The intention of raising kids is to someday let them go. All that time and effort and investment, all that love and devotion, all that protecting and hosting and raising them up here in our homes, is all just … Continue reading Can’t wait, Not yet.
Because Momma is tired and she sometimes needs a break. The end. --- No, really. That's it... Were you looking for some scientific, statistical or proven fact as to why I don't bathe my son every night? You're not going to find that here. What you will find is a Mom doing her best (which … Continue reading The crazy reason why I do not give my child a bath every night.
Dear 2017, I pray this letter finds you well. Kinda. Sorta. Not really. You see, you have been a big skim-board to the shin. An unpleasant, unexpected, cringe-worthy sting to what was supposed to be a pleasant walk along the ocean. Sure, maybe a lot of it was my own doing. I wasn't paying … Continue reading A love letter to 2017.
Every other Thursday night, I have on my Google calendar an event from 8-10pm. It’s titled: WRITE … DON’T IGNORE!!! I ignore it. Every single time. Clearly, it’s working. So a friend of mine called me out on it. She asked me to add her to the invite, so that it popped up … Continue reading Hurts so good.
A year ago today, Brooks was twenty-eight days old. I was twenty-eight days into motherhood. Twenty-eight days into the biggest change of my life. Twenty-eight days into a life of unpredictability, heart-wrenching emotion and exuberant joy. Twenty-eight days. Brooks was so little. Everything was so new. I was so lost. Postpartum depression, sleep deprivation … Continue reading A year of parenthood. A year of grace. Lots and lots of grace.
I'm sitting here in my pajamas, with sweatpants on with holes in the bottom. My shirt is way too big. My hair looks like I may have been electrocuted in the middle of the night. My breath stinks because I haven't brushed my teeth yet. This is me. On a Saturday morning. In all my glory. I … Continue reading Put the fancy dress away.