Moms writing their way through an ever-shrinking pool of time and attention. We write for our sanity, and yours. Welcome.
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I made a discovery on one of those relentless January days: two of my houseplants had flowered.
I spent an hour that afternoon carefully mending our 8-year-old neighbor’s lovies, four identical rabbits that were loved so hard their heads fell off.
I’m not over here trying to drink a lemontini and read context-free Emily Dickinson lines to pretend at feeling fulfilled. I want advice from fellow moms who came out of the holidays feeling tired, tired, tired with more dark snowy months ahead.