He just wanted banana bread. Eager to please and to get us out of the house, I obliged. We sat side by side in a bustling Starbucks, stealing a moment together before work and school. My son slurped apple juice and nibbled at his bread. I sipped my coffee, barely tasting it. Eyes glued to … Continue reading Banana bread, gun violence and facing the daylight
The blare of my alarm snaps me out of a dream. Eyes half-shut, I roll over to silence it, then consider my options. If I get up now, I can write. Maybe. There’s always a chance I could wake my son, a light sleeper, and lose the gift of time. Or I can sink back … Continue reading On writing through motherhood
“Wait, you still have to stay in his room at bedtime?” she asked, a hint of pity in her voice. We sharing stories and dinner in my home and my least favorite parenting topic had arisen. “Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “With all his ear infections and our failed attempts at sleep training, he just never … Continue reading Let it be love
She clicks her laptop shut and announces, “Well, that’s enough for today.” She considers her son’s laundry basket, the dirty dishes, scattered hot wheels in the playroom. Working is her default mode; she finds it hard to relax. But the sun is shining through the blinds, and there’s a kiddie pool filled to the brim … Continue reading Snapshot of a summer afternoon
This is your Monday reminder that you are not defined by your number of followers. You are not defined by a number on a scale. You are not defined by a number in your bank account. You are not defined by the number of checks on your to-do list. The sum of these numbers is … Continue reading What defines us
I don't think anyone can fully prepare you for how pivotal it is to become a mother. It's not that they don't try. In fact, when you're expecting, you may find everyone from your great aunt to your coworkers to well-meaning strangers dole out parenting advice. Whether they're parents or not, many know the searing … Continue reading Becoming
“Jack got in a fight at school today,” she reports, pushing an accident slip toward me. I take the slip and crouch down to examine a fingernail-shaped scratch on my son’s head. “Poor buddy,” I say, pulling him into a hug. I look up and ask, “What happened?” “He and another boy wanted the same … Continue reading A mother’s worry
