The Depths - Sunlight press
“I need the impossible.”
It was a rainy day, but maybe the fact that it was spring caused hope to resonate in my voice.
“Anything is possible,” the bright, blonde saleswoman countered.
I liked her immediately.
For the past five minutes ….[read the full essay]
how letting myself break down helped me break through- scary mommy
I just want to TAKE A SHOWER, the voice in my head rages.
I just want to shower, and pee by myself, and fold laundry without someone hanging off of me.
Wait, no. I DON’T want to fold laundry.
When did my days get so tedious and unimportant that my ability to FOLD LAUNDRY is the barometer? DAMMIT.
That voice. It’s often belligerent. Out of control. It’s not even me.
Except it is, obviously….[read the full essay]
We are the new ambition - motherhustle
Clunky heels and high shoulder pads. A navy suit with a boxy cut.
How did these become the images that pop into my head when I hear the word “ambition”?
I’ve been thinking about this for days, and here’s what I’ve landed on: I picture something totally dated and abstract because I never really related to the word ambitious. Some odd ‘90s version of the word is frozen in my head…[read the full essay]
if we were a picture - mamalode
As I sit in the rocking chair, I look down at my hands.
One lays across my baby’s upper back, the other cups his feet, my wrist giving his diapered bottom a place to rest. He fits comfortably in the space between my shoulders and hips, legs frogged up in the most enduring of positions, one I know he’ll return to again and again throughout his life.
And I become aware, suddenly, of what we’d look like if someone appeared in the doorway and snapped our picture.…[read the full essay]
every day is a prayer - elephant journal
I don’t much believe in praying on our knees, hands clasped.
Still, I pray all day.
I grew up with the religious view of prayer, which felt like a pleading request for a temperamental God to step in and deliver what I asked for. It felt a bit like unworthiness waiting to be transmuted…[read the full essay]
lessons from the past - mothers always write
I started out looking for something benign and found myself on an archeological dig, unprepared. Barefoot. Surrounded by spider webs, catching the occasional glimpse of their inhabitants. The type whose long, paper-thin legs and tiny bodies seem prehistoric, forgotten somehow.
My imagination is far too wild for me to spend more than three minutes in a basement. Yet here I am…[read the full essay]
sometimes being a sahm is boring af - scary mommy
I’m just going to say it. Sometimes, being home with the kids? It’s really boring.
Yesterday I was so overwhelmed with how mind-numbing it was to act out Frozen for the 47th time since breakfast, to build blocks and be “doing it wrong,” to empty and load the dishwasher yet again, that I just burst out laughing. I couldn’t stop. I laughed until the kids started laughing, and then I just laughed harder because it was all so absurd…[read the full essay]
What my 3-year-old says when she wants me to shut up - elephant journal
“You are enough!”
It’s the mantra of many self-help books, and the thing we’re all supposed to believe about ourselves.
I am enough. I am enough. I am enough. It’s a message of grace.
Except this time, it’s not… [read the full essay]
“Mom” is a verb - scary mommy
Lint. Pieces of tissue. Brown, dried leaves.
All day long, I pick things up and shove them in my pockets…[read the full essay]
In this house, creativity is a virtue - motherhustle
On most days, creativity wins over the messes mommy has to clean up. It wins over the thought of spilled paint and extra baths. It wins over the semi-annoyance that my notepads become important secret journals, that the stickers from my planner become integral parts of mixed-media artwork (in partnership with the colorful pens and washi tape I keep on my desk, of course), and that my highlighters always go missing.
When boxes become boats and spatulas become wands, I find that I can’t say no. So why, then, have I had such a hard time saying yes to my own creativity?…[read the full essay]
sorting through life, for simplicity’s sake - motherhustle
I am not the best at “simple.”
Which either makes me unqualified to write about it, or extremely qualified.
I’ve been craving simplicity lately, though. I want fewer things, less clutter. I want streamlined, I want clean. I want real and true. I want one gorgeous cashmere sweater that I paid full price for and makes me feel like a million bucks… [read the full essay]