cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
It was one of those Saturday morning moments for which I long. Both of my girls were in their playroom, happily occupying themselves (without screens!). There were no sounds of whining, fighting, or Peppa Pig jumping in muddy puddles. It was blissfully quiet. And it was that exact quietness that allowed me to more quickly…
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Everyone prepares you for the feelings that accompany your child’s first birthday, but no one prepares you for the emotional tidal wave that hits on their second. Or at least no one warned me. My daughter turned two on Friday, and amidst the celebrations and fanfare, I found myself in tears nearly every day leading…
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While prepping ingredients for dinner on a Monday evening, I opened up a dialogue with one of my boys who was making his way through the kitchen. Holding the significance of the day, I asked if they did anything at school in honor of 9/11. His response, not really. “Did you have a moment of…
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Dear Baby, I only knew you existed for 48 hours. While our time together was brief, your impact was not. You proved my heart could expand to love someone I never met. You proved I was ready for motherhood. I never heard your beating heart, but you changed mine forever. Love, Mama
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There’s a little known story about a guy named Jack and a girl named Rose. Rose didn’t share her space with Jack, so he died. Oh, you know the story? I saw the movie Titanic when I was 12 years old, and even then, it didn’t make sense. They were lovers. They spent the entire…
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We sit quietly in the near-dark room. Wood spindles hug hips and back, bare feet touch soft fawn-colored carpet, worn wooden armrests cradle elbows and arms filled with the weight and warmth of her. Feet push gently against the soft carpet, silence broken by the creaking voice of the old rocking chair. Voice speaking from…
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The spring before I found out I was pregnant with my first child I was at a craft fair with my best friends. I came across a booth that was selling baby girls clothing. There was this lace dress. It was frilly and girly and perfect. I bought it. I wasn’t pregnant yet. We weren’t…
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I see you hovering at the base of the big slide, ready to catch your little daredevil as he proudly descends the last of the challenges this big kid playground has presented. And I am aware of your young mama heart, a little sad that he’s already conquering these obstacles.
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Tread water, get pulled under, push to surface, gasp for air, tread water, get pulled under, push to surface, gasp for air. Slowly drowning has become my way of life. There is a rhythm to it, one that is familiar. A pattern that should probably feel scary or dangerous instead feels like home. So even…
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2007 was the year I began to write. I wrote to name things I had carried around inside for too long without voice being given to them. I wrote to tell myself my own story. It was also the year my oldest daughter graduated from high school and my youngest daughter turned one. I felt…
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