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I’m quite sure that all too soon I’ll crave their clutter and chaos in the same way I craved their newborn snuggles as they grew into bigger kids.
There is healing from even the heaviest wounds.
What they’ll remember is that feeling of joy, no matter how brief. And so will you.
You don’t feel ready for them to start “adulting,” but hasn’t that been the goal all along?
Currently I am listening to my emotions, letting them guide me to act in alignment with my core values.
In moments like this, you just have to laugh it off.
To focus on the gift of time, instead of the gift of things.
The possibilities are endless.
My kids asked about their friends for months, leaving me sad and speechless.
The hours of the night stretched and warped, blurring into an endless loop of trying to soothe my child, all while battling the drowsiness threatening to pull me under.
And as abruptly as she has joined us, she is gone.
No matter what colors fill our home, this remains true: It is not absent of fun-filled, cherishable moments, and it is not vacant of the deepest love.
He was so good and getting better every day.
Here's the reality: we will not make it on time.
These late night hours are my time to be selfish. To think of me—and me only.
I didn’t know how heavy the load of parenting would be.
My children can have a memorable Christmas without pushing us further into debt.
Drowning is splashy and loud and frantic—isn’t it?
There’s nothing more intimate and personal than the relationship you have with your child.
My preferences for this holiday season may not appeal to the masses, but they will bring joy to my family—and that's all we need.
