The Magnum Opus & Motherhood
Sitting up at night with my infant child, my feet rocking the glider on their own, plots begin to stir and thicken as characters bob to the surface in the sleepy cauldron of my mind. Tomorrow, I think, swaddling my daughter
The Truth About “Happily Ever After”
Barely 9 p.m. and my husband and I were sprawled across the bed as if we’d been shot. “I don’t even know what day it is,” he said. “It’s Satur—" I paused. "No, wait . . . it’s Friday.” “I’ll just be glad
Turn Around & They’re Grown
Seven years ago, my husband and I went out to Wisconsin for a wedding. During the rehearsal dinner, we sat across from one of his relatives, who had three children under five. The man’s eyes were bloodshot, and two of
Walking Into The Light
“Aw! How old is she?!” I didn’t look up, but continued unzipping my infant daughter’s ladybug sleeper and unsnapping her onesie, both of which were soaked through with urine. My husband turned toward the curious women and smiled. “Three days old.” I
#Nesting
“Mooom!” my five-year-old cried. “We are trying to go to sleep!” “I’m almost done.” My husband said, “Do you really need to do that right now?” “Yes,” I replied. “If I go into labor tonight, I want to know the carpet's vacuumed.” My husband
Parenthood: Snipping Away Our Character Flaws
Two weeks ago, I purchased a spider plant at Aldi’s for $4.99. I have a thing for plants, and in our move from Wisconsin to Tennessee, I lost all my plants but for an orchid. Therefore, I’ve been slowly and stealthily
Life’s Bittersweet Symphony
The September night we wed, my husband and I slow-danced. All I remember is how the two of us rocked back and forth as the crystals embroidering the hem of my dress cracked beneath his rental shoes. My husband is
“Kissmass Yights!” & Gratitude
The receipt checker, as I exited Sam’s Club, muttered beneath her breath, “I might just kill someone today.” The woman directed this comment to me while nodding at the back of the man who’d cut in front of the line
Balancing Motherhood & Artistry
This Wednesday, while hiding in the bathroom, I tried to call local libraries and bookstores to line up book events for The Alliance, but my girls (four years old and nineteen months) couldn’t stand being separated from me. So, they pounded on the door and twisted on the handle until I had to open it and usher them inside. The three of us stood in front of the sink, looking at each other in the mirror, as I continued to wait on hold. A few hours later, I received an extortion letter that required me to sit on the floor while a stranger told me how much I (allegedly) owe. Needless to say, Wednesday was not my favorite and had my husband praying before dinner, “Thank you for this . . . day.” And then he opened his eyes and grinned at me across the table because, in that pause, he'd purposefully omitted the word “good.” But then, as my husband and I were tucking our eldest into bed, she looked at me and said, "Did your book camed out?" I titled my head. "My book?" She nodded in the dark. "The one with the plane. Did it camed out?" I touched her chin. "No, not yet." "But your other ones camed out?" I smiled at her, my throat tight. "Yes. two." My husband and I looked at each other across her pink comforter, and the stress from the entire day just melted off me. I could tell by my his smile that it had melted off him too. Sometimes, if I’m just honest with you (and what's the point of all this if I'm not?), I wonder if I’m making the right choice by pursuing an author career while my children are so young. I wonder if, otherwise, I’d do more macaroni crafts, read more books, be more patient, bake complicated, raw-food cookies that my children actually like. What if--once my
He Is Alive
Yesterday, I found myself sitting in a chair along the wall of a turquoise room in a birthing house, though I myself am not pregnant. On the adjacent wall, a yellow curtain with a sateen sheen fluttered from the air