All posts tagged motherhood

water ripple droplet

‘No’ leaves room for ‘hell yes!’

A few weeks ago, I read an article by Nadia Bolz-Weber, ‘The Spiritual Practice of Saying No.’ The title invites an immediate shift in how we view our commitments, boundaries and pleasing impulses. Do we say yes because we are afraid to say no? Afraid of disappointing the asking party? Afraid of not doing our part?


lens close

Glitches in my matrix, in footnotes

It should come as no surprise that my dominant worldview lens is feminism. It clicked into place when I was still pretty young, but old enough to appreciate its framework. Say, about middle school.

Empowerment, personal successes, perfect pitch responses to thinly veiled misogynistic remarks…feminism cheers for these. And, man do I love praise.

But what about the times I unball my liberation fist for a moment? Am I letting the sisterhood down?


lone light in the darkness

Before it even began


two whole souls
under my skin now and
I have never felt more alone


blue mailbox

Halfway through a letter

When I finally learned the whereabouts of my mother, after 10 years of no contact, I was pregnant. And things started looking different.

Many of us gain new perspective on our mom-as-human once we audition for that same role, and I was no different. But my perspective was more distant, and probably more melancholy. How do you thank someone for your existence—and say hi, remember me?—at the same time? Like this, I guess.


peeking in or out?

Bottom’s up

There is a certainty to keeping something secret. Once you share it, it can take on a life of it’s own. Better to keep it sealed up, cello-wrapped in opaque plastic—preferably in black, you know, if it’s handy—sterilized and safe.

Um, right?


spiral staircase juandescal

Family, food and phrase

It’s embarrassing how much time has passed since my last post. Over a year and a half. My daughter’s first birthday set off a chain reaction, not the least of which was the dropping of her morning nap…and subsequently, my writing time.

Then came my own birthday, and the mind-fucking that was wrapped up in those shiny, innocent looking boxes. Thirty I had survived fine, though I might need to thank post-partum hormones. The spiral that began with my 31st surprised me.


stumble, cupcake

Then and now

For most of the day, I’ve been reviewing the events of this day exactly one year ago. And it was going fine…early labor, shooting that tv commercial with my brother (and labor slowing down); all that anticipation, knowing that some time very soon I would officially be a mother (very soon? Sure. 27 hours or so…).


Groundhog day

There is no last load

She slept through last night. Through. The. Mother. Fucking. Night. Yep. I said it. She was asleep at 7; not a peep until 6. Oh, glorious sleep.

But there is a toll for such miracles.


live saver

This kiddie pool has a deep end

The girl has an ear infection. Fever. Screaming. Puking. Sleeping? Not so much. Well, these past nights have been better, but early on it was rough going. And I was sick, too. It’s really cruel, the way things sometimes shake out.

One day in the thick of full-flu-fuckitude, she eventually settled for her nap…after an hour of coaxing, Motrin-ing, puking and whining. Hurting everywhere, I dragged my un-tooth-brushed, sorry ass to the computer to waste some time on the mommy website I am a member of. Bad idea.


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