I saw a meme the other day that said, “It’s almost time to spend three days in the kitchen so the kids can eat this:” It then showed a picture of a single dinner roll. I laughed, and passed it on, knowing it was true. It garnered many likes from all...
Maybe you, too, wash the same exact dishes you did two days before, Hang up the same towel, Sweep the same floor. Maybe you wonder sometimes if anyone sees you at all; Your presence like a ghost they pass through in the hall. Giving your days over...
It was only her second counseling session. I waited outside in the car, staring at the way the raindrops dotted the windows the same way I used to notice them as a kid; Watching the way multiple small droplets blend, and then one heavy drop forms...
Apparently, I’m not needed anymore. Just a lowly, used up mother, set aboard a flaming canoe, clutching dried flowers, and shoved gently out to sea. Don’t even bother telling me that I’m not. Just leave me. *Dramatic pushing away* All I have left is...
HOCO. That’s what it’s called now. You apparently can’t just say “Homecoming,” unless you like being called a ‘Boomer,’ and having your teenagers make a Tik Tok about you saying it to make fun of you. But don’t you dare say “HOCO,” either, because...
So often it feels like the same old thing: Wake up, do the chores, drive the places, cook a thing. Over and over – Lather, rinse, repeat. Maybe it’s these middle years; Now past the ones filled with changing diapers and cleaning off finger...
The last month as a mother has emptied me of myself. It’s been the hardest one I think I have ever had. I am grasping tight to all that I know, but feel like I’m losing everything I’m fighting for right through my finger cracks. My girls’ mental...
I was just lifting my coffee mug to my lips, when suddenly my husband was leaning over to me, phone in hand. His eyes were big, and immediately searching my own. On his screen there was a message from a mutual friend of ours: “School shooting threat...
By 8:00 this morning I could just tell. I could see the look in her eyes every time they darted for a painful second to meet mine. All I had to do was ask her if she was OK, and before I knew it, she broke down crying. As I sat with her on the edge...
Having teenage daughters is much like having an Advent Calendar: Every day a new treat inside. Except, with this Advent Calendar, the drawers you open contain tiny scrolls that state which way you’ve embarrassed, upset, or made them frustrated today...