As mamas we grow into our role and learn with our children. Our love for them is like no other because they grew inside of us and are part of our soul. Each of their milestones shapes us, too.
I like being alone. There. I said it. I like being alone. I did not know this about myself until recently.
It is the onion of life. On top is the shit that is thrown at you. Peel away the layers and you find people, your people, waiting to catch you. Lift you up. Make you whole again.
I don’t see it as a book ending. I see it as turning the page on one chapter and finding the start of a new one.
Whether you’re a celebrity or just a normal human, a lot can happen in 365 days.
I will always be grateful for Liane Moriarty’s story to have found me, giving me what I needed and then showing me how special a reading life can be.
As Mother’s Day approaches this year, I exhaustedly celebrate being a mother of four. This little piece of paper reminds me that the plans I make are never as exquisite as the ones already designed for me.
I began taking personal offense to each drink my mother had, each cheap plastic vodka bottle I found hidden in her closet.
I think the problem many of us have on this second go-round is that while being with another person sounds fantastic, it is pretty hard to pull off, especially after spending 50 or 60 years on the planet without that other person in your life.
I can remember times where utilities in the house would be turned off, non-stop bill collectors calling, and even some showing up at our house.