So what you’re telling me, my deeply beloved little boy, is that you are already displacing the cognitive load of knowing how to twine three pieces of hair together to your future wife.

I keep living through metaphors for motherhood, and running the wrong way through a crowd of people as they crossed a finish line was a salient one.

Such a cool kid.

From a Well-Rested and Emotionally Stable Mom

We worry so much about babies talking. Then we spend the rest of their childhoods wishing they would hush.

These past six years have been a slow, painful peel of two things once joined.

I always make a big, biiiiig list of things I hope and dream for the fresh new year.

Imagine a room full of the richest and most powerful men in the world. Hate these men or love them, they’re shaping your future.

We all deserve to see heroes that look like us and – for whatever reason – Santa is his hero.

Our younger two children will always and forever have a road not taken. And that’s confusing.

All I needed to do was cut perfect squares of fabric and sew those perfect squares to each other. 

I, as the metaphorical chef here, have metaphorically been binge-watching a lot of metaphorical Beat Bobby Flay.

The hacks are haunting me.

This is what 16 years of Catholic schooling hath wrought.

Have so much fun.