There’s a tried-and-true tip I’ve often heard from seasoned married folks, one of which is guaranteed to keep arguments fair, gentle and in-the-moment (rather than relying on cheap shots and past scripts), and it is simply this: Avoid two words: (1) Always and (2) Never. There are a few obvious reasons here, one of which
“Put the baby in the center of the bed. Go outside; take five deep breaths. Come back.” This is the advice my midwife offers me as a 3-day old mother, the orders she gives after hearing my tears over the phone, the baby’s shrieks, the panic in my voice. My confidence in motherhood silenced by
And just like that, I’m a tea drinker. Listen, I’ve always wanted to be a tea drinker. My favorite people are tea drinkers, and they look so calm and effervescent just sitting there, steeping, lost in thought and glowy skin. And yet, coffee lured me into its black depths sometime in the thick of my
2am, the alarm rings. When you’ve got yourself a baby with boundless energy and a little girl with endless questions, 2am is sometimes your magic hour of silence, of writing, of work. While the two littles are tucked safely in their beds, I pad into the dining room for cinnamon tea and words. It is,
For all the areas of my life I claim minimalism (or, at least, a graceful version of the sort), my beauty drawer cannot accurately be included. What began as a teenager’s dopp kit carrying little more than waterproof mascara and acne concealer has, over the years, morphed into a full-blown arsenal for any skin “need”
Yesterday. You know how your day can take an utter turn south, just like that? Like, the simplest thing becomes the not-so-simplest thing and suddenly you find yourself in a parked car tearing up in front of your bewildered kids, searching for a crinkled napkin in the glove compartment, mentally reminding yourself “You’re the grownup
My mother is forever retelling a story of her endless sartorial regret one Sunday morning as my pastor lifted my 2-year-old self up for a hug to find that I was wearing approximately zero garments under my vacuous tulle skirt. (It would be a few years before she would buckle again under my insistence that
Last week, a girlfriend sent over a link to this illustration, and it hasn’t fully left my mind since. I’ve always been a firm believer in raising a child with character over compliance, someone who isn’t afraid to buck the system in a thoughtful, kind manner. So of course the idea of children’s agency hits
