Every year on my daughter’s birthday I write her a love letter. One day maybe she will want to read them. My sweet girl, I had written an entirely different letter for you this year. It was complete and perfect in its expression of love for who you have been in my...
One of the last birthday parties my daughter attended before the pandemic was a Paw Patrol theme. And because it was a Mexican birthday party, it included a massive table filled with Paw Patrol-themed candy and toys, a Paw Patrol piñata, a blue Paw Patrol cake, and a...
There is a body signal that some adults send out when they meet my daughter. The only word to describe it is intimidation. Yes, my daughter is five, and she intimidates grownups. It’s not just my daughter. If you were to put these intimidated adults into any room with...
I describe my paternal grandfather as an honorable elder in my life. One thing he taught me from a young age was that we learn from our mistakes. Not that it mattered when I broke off the head of the carved onyx knight from his chess set. Or when I neglected to tell...
I just finished a marathon afternoon of play with my four-year-old daughter, Leonie. It sounds easy, but as any mama knows, play is hard work. The reason we parents are so exhausted at the end of the day is not just because we are doing the dishes and cooking and...
Is the dirt worse these days or is it that we know too much? When my daughter was 16 months old, I posted a picture on a private online photo album of her drinking from a hose. It was pure and innocent, a refreshing reminder of how I often cooled down on hot days as a...
As I write this my daughter is settling in for a nap for the first time ever at her daycare. At first glance, it may sound odd to say that with such a dramatic tone. I mean, to use the precious beginning line of a post to tell you that she’s taking a nap at her school...
It’s a trap, this idea of a perfect mother. But it’s a trap that we women build, clean, and stock ourselves with pre-washed organic baby lettuce. It begins when the bloody mess of childbirth is hidden behind doors that keep our guttural noises inside. It begins when...
I learned this one midnight hour when I was nursing my daughter ages ago: Quiet places are the most potent. Yet we are afraid to go under. We are afraid to stop talking. We are terrified of losing our phones. Or being stuck at home for a year. Why? Because we have a...
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The Bhagavad Gita 2:40