This morning, may we brush our teeth in gentleness, flossing with a taut line from Plato: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.” Rinse in confidence – swish – spit the doubts – splat – and watch them swirl into the sink. Let them go.
Two is a sudden burst of verbal growth, stringing together sentences like, “Mom! Put down that poop and give me a huuuuuug.” It’s a continuation of hoarding, blocks and snacks and stuffed animals, everything, all at once and right this moment, please and thank you. It’s a newfound love for broccoli and an insistence that
When we lived in Los Angeles, friends from far and wide would come “visit us,” which – let’s be honest – meant “enjoy an L.A. vacation with a free couch to sleep on.” We’d cart them around to various trademark posts: Hollywood, Malibu, the hills of Palos Verdes. We’d hear the same phrase, over and
It’s Monday, and the words are few but the inspiration is high and these Paul Jung images are just hitting the right notes for me today. I know minimalism is trending high these days (thank goodness – simplicity is a serious ideal this lazy girl can get behind), but I’ve always wondered about the people
One of my good friends just gave birth last week, and OMG I nearly had a panic attack on her behalf. It seems most mothers I know stand planted in two single-file lines: those who love the fresh scent of newborn babies and find them endlessly intoxicating, and the mothers who have panic attacks on
Summer is winding down, and I’m one of those crazy fools who starts mourning the loss of summer before it’s even passed. I can’t help it – my brain just trajects a million miles an hour, a racecar on the final lap. And yes, I do walk around with internal whiplash pretty much daily, you
“When it comes to our children, we do not have the luxury of despair. If we rise, they will rise with us every time, no matter how many times we’ve fallen before. I hope you will remember that the next time you fail… Remembering that is the most important work as parents we can possibly
Every year on my birthday, I wear a mildly inappropriate dress (inappropriate in terms of the occasion of celebration, i.e. “overdressed,” and not inappropriate in terms of NSFW documentation – glad we cleared this up). There was the year – my sophomore year in college – when I wore that floral silk number to Math