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That isn’t me
I don’t like to think of myself as being susceptible to envy, but I am, in fact I’m really good at feeling envy. I like to think of myself as being accepting and generous, but it’s there, the green...
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A Good Fit
There are some milestones that I have breathlessly watched for—first steps, “mom”, reading, riding a bike. I rejoice as the girls achieve them and some times find myself a bit crestfallen at how much...
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All the Flavors—sad to happy to wow
“We’re going to try and have an adventure, ok?” I gently cajoled. “Really, what is it?” They asked. I shook my head, “I want it to be a surprise.” They blurted out guesses that quickly began to make my...
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Quiet Your Doubt
“I wish I could shower without my thoughts,” I said to Sean absentmindedly as I towel dried my hair. I’d been doing battle with people who haven’t listened, replaying conversations that are already...
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Can’t You See You Like I Do?
“Mama, you are so pretty in that shirt,” I turned to look at where the voice had come from and saw Briar. I had known it was her talking, but the words were so out of context with how I was feeling....
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Expectations: Yours, Mine, and Ours
Potentially the most tedious thing about this post is that it is such a tired, damn argument. I’m not the first to write about it, nor will I be the last. I was trucking along, chatting with friends on...
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Limiting “All”
Six months ago, give or take, I discovered a new word. It was love at first sight. I loved the way I couldn’t say it without making a funny face or how reading its definition felt like permission...
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Love Postponed—Feeling My Own Love
My hands were resting in my lap as I waited in the X-ray room. It was 8:30 in the morning and I’d already been through two orthodontist appointments with the girls. I was trying squeeze in a chest...
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A Game of Chicken with Weight
I have obsessed about weight. In college I abused laxatives. I’ve battled with disordered eating. I said hateful things to myself. I compared myself to women in magazine, classmates, strangers, and,...
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Stop Trying to Outrun Yourself
I can trace back to as early as eleven, things about myself that I remember running away from. I had a penchant for cussing, picked up from sitting along the periphery of my dad’s poker games. The...
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