Dear C, I won’t mince words. You made me angry today. I hadn’t been home for five minutes after a frustrating day at work when you started whining. You wanted candy and Daddy had already told you repeatedly that you couldn’t have it because you had already had an overly-sweetened weekend. The instant I walked in, you hit me up for whatever garbage food was in the cabinet. But I was on to you. I said no. You screamed and I shot you one of those looks you should be familiar with by now: the one signaling my immensely short rope....more
Grace. Living a graceful life.It sounds wonderful, but I've struggled to deeply understand what the word “grace” meant to me, until this morning when I read this quote:“Grace means that all of your mistakes now serve a purpose instead of serving shame.”...more
14 years ago I was awarded the mommy title and never looked back. Who was I before I became a mother? I vaguely remember waking up thinking of myself first. As a child, I didn’t play with baby dolls or babysit. Having a sister seven years my junior was plenty motherhood for me. I didn’t even think I wanted to have kids.
I was giving my daughter, K, her bath after a long week of solo parenting. My husband was traveling out of state and had called me to tell me he was extremely ill. I was worried about him and trying to hold down the fort on my own. I was tired. I was overworked. I needed a break. K wanted to look at something on my iPhone while she was in the bath and I refused. This is how it all started. What began as a tiny hissy fit quickly spiraled into what I can only describe as a complete meltdown right before my eyes!...more
Last night my five-year-old daughter came out after we tucked her in for some familiar bedtime shenanigans. My husband and I are natural night owls who can understand her tug towards wanting to stay up. Who wants to go go to bed when mommy and daddy clearly throw a party every night after she goes to bed?
I’ve conducted varying degrees of spring cleaning on friendships over the years. As I’ve gotten older, the less time I have for shitty friends. Women friendships seem to undergo transformations with the catalyst of motherhood. Instead of supporting one another, we turn into judgmental know-it-alls who are desperately insecure.
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