Families

I don’t think I can say I learned anything from being hit, except for fear. I learned to be afraid of her.

I grew up dreaming of living in that house with the perfect blue shutters and the white picket fence, three perfectly interspaced children running

When a bereaved mother is left alone, how deep into the recesses of her mind does she wander? Does she surface for air? Does she want to come out at all?

Minimalism is great in concept, especially when you’re looking at someone else’s well-curated life. Declutter, simplify, own only things that bring you joy. This is all well and good for the twenty-something living in a one bedroom apartment, beholden to no one. When you’re a parent, however, minimalism gets a lot more complicated.

But what can be said for the day upon which I am no longer enough? I dread that day.

Building a society without stereotypical gender confines must start from the ground up.

I'm not saying that I've got this parenting thing nailed, but I am saying that I've done it five times which is worth something.

I have three children (and a husband, a dog, a cat, three budgies, and three fish) as well as a job, friends, and family. If it weren’t for the busy mom hacks I’ve honed and developed over the years my family wouldn’t be washed, dressed or fed, not to mention all the work I have to busy myself with each and every minute of every day.