it's that tension that holds me together and has been used to make me who I am
I'm climbing through any open window into their minds and hearts.
I want to take my growing children out on more slow, mind-awakening journeys so that I may suck all their youth, beauty and knowledge in return for passing down the skill of taking a good hard look.
I say it with no shame, no embarrassment, no sense that I'm a faker for the first time since I walked out of a professional dance studio for the last time...
I went up to my bedroom and laid on the floor to feel terrible about myself, to feel desperate, to wonder how I will ever survive motherhood, and, the worst part, to seriously question God's wisdom in giving ME these children to raise...
If being a mother doesn't give you stress fractures in your freakin' heart, I don't know what does.
Unauthorized use of urine as “chemical,” “paint,” or “fragrance” will be dealt with swiftly and according to the standard set of consequences.
Did I just write a sad confession of the roots of my emotional eating? I don’t know.
Here's what I know so far: I hate to be needy but long for intimacy.
Aside from praying and thinking a lot about politics, I've been excited about other things too.
I worry my son will grow up and look back from his second half and think, “Shame on her. She was the adult.”
Being a person is hard. We have so many parts to our selves, but all I really want is to be one.
People need medical care, food, and safety. But what happens next?
If every year I begin advent with an ache in my heart over dreams never realized, bodily pain, and loss, then I am appropriately humbled.
I will try not to be jealous and trust that you still like me too.