Home Is Where My Children Are.
I zip up her coat. She puts her gloves on herself. We talk about how yesterday she grew upset when I didn’t drive our car right to our old house, and instead turned left...
Tagged: motherhood
How to Raise a Woman.
The way her smile falls reminds of how her hair hits her shoulders. It’s easy and natural, and it meets me with the same curly bounce. Her eyes twinkle, and I wink at her—something...
How a Mother’s Heart Lets Go. {Part 2 in The Caged Girls.}
Part 2: The Caged Girls. She sat alone in a chair, her legs folded neatly beneath her. Her heart felt not so neat. She contemplated the day, how she had reacted to her...
A Reminder of the Magic That Is Motherhood.
The gift of gratitude: The card arrives with a tiny package, and normally I would have opened that first. Instead, I gravitate to the small, dark blue box. Inside is fragile red tissue paper and...
This Is Why I Blog Pictures of My Kids.
The yellow leaves practically glow outside the large picture window on the side of our house. The girls’ new teepee sits strategically in a corner that isn’t particularly used; it’s where they go anyways during...
Finding Gratitude in a Thankless Job.
I’ll admit that sometimes I feel frustrated at trying so hard at a job that seemingly has very little thanks returned. Yesterday my baby turned one and there are no pictures of me from...
A Mother’s Reflection on Your First Birthday.
An “I love you” as you turn one: I wrote my first book for your sister before she turned a year old. I shared and bared so much that I don’t plan on publishing...
Playing Hooky Made Me a Better Mom.
How to seize the day: I’ve unplugged a lot this week, not completely, but a lot. By “unplugged” I mean largely ignore my phone. Yes, I stopped for a few phone calls with my daughter’s...
And Then You Were a Girl.
It happened somewhere between childish toddler legs and long thighs. I noticed—almost suddenly—the way you began to articulate your thoughts in a precise manner that was no longer babyish. More, you started using phrases...
To My Second Child: Why Your Baby Book Isn’t Done.
You are no less special because you are second. Instead, it’s cliche-true that you completed our family. I look at your bright smile and feel compelled at gut-level to gently nuzzle you as you...
