Category Archives: Parenting

The Day After

Do not ask yourself how this can happen. It happened because we do not require enough from ourselves when it comes to things that actually matter.

There are not enough people willing to be a voice for the voiceless. Hate has been simmering just beneath the surface, lurking in the shadows, and we have been content to sit on the sidelines, hoping others will fix it for us. A large portion of the population has kept evil tucked neatly in their back pocket and today they find comfort sitting in it.

But do not ask yourself how this could have happened. We’ve blessed bigots with our patience. Hate is learned and fear is contagious. We teach each other to be afraid of anything different from ourselves, and we are far more willing to be afraid than to understand that it is easy to like someone because they are similar to us, it takes courage to love someone because of their differences.

We celebrate ambition over compassion and have a warped sense of success. We teach our children that square-footage matters more in a house than the joy found within its walls. We teach them to value fame, and as a result, an entire generation is basing its self-worth on “likes” and views. Teach them instead, that you value the boldness it takes to speak up against injustice and cruelty; that putting yourself out there is hard. Facing criticism and ridicule for standing up for what is right takes courage and ought to be celebrated.

But we don’t really value bravery, do we? We value being right at any cost. We value money, and things, and quick-fixes and building walls. We listen to angrily spewed “facts” without contesting the validity of what is being said. Instead, we sit silently and watch a country elect a bully at a time when victims of bullying are taking their lives in record numbers.

No, we don’t value bravery.

We underestimate the inequality of the sexes that still exists. We’re more willing to watch make-up tutorials on YouTube, and judge appearances, than stand behind women who have spent their entire lives fighting for the basic rights of human beings. We pretend to be champions for women, as we primp for countless selfies to be evaluated by complete strangers. We are okay with women posting half-naked pictures of themselves, but censor intelligent thought and debate.

We should be screaming from the mountains, but instead we sit in silence.

Do not ask yourself how this could have happened. We are so far removed from things that actually matter.

The Second Bath


Tonight I innocently tried to recreate the perfectly glorious bath I had last Friday night, hoping for relaxation, detoxification, inspiration.

I carefully retraced my steps, lighting candles, mixing salts and aromas, creating the perfect playlist.

I twisted my hair up into a messy bun, removed all traces of makeup, anticipated the steamy glow that made me look so young after marinating in the heat.

I dipped one toe into the perfectly full tub, and gasped.

The water was way too hot.

I turned on the cold water to balance it out a little.

My youngest knocked on the door to use the bathroom.


“All three of you, go to the bathroom now because I’m going to be in here for a while.”

One, two, three went.

The cold water still runs.

My husband asks me questions about renovating doors and baseboard and trim.

I rush back to turn off the cold water, dip a toe in.

It feels cooler now.

I turn on the music, inhale, and submerge myself.

It’s flipping FREEZING!

I bolt upright, extinguishing one of the candles with the splash.

Turn on the hot again.

But it’s no longer hot.

I sit there defiantly; telling myself it’ll warm up again; willing the hot water tank to heat my water.

I hug my legs but remain. Stubborn.

I will have my hot bath!

Another knock on the door.

“Mommy, I have to go to the bathrooooooooom!”

I turn off the music, blow out the candles, drain the water.

Look at myself in the mirror.

Search for the glow…..

Makes last week’s bath all the more memorable.

I am grateful that this was the most difficult part of today.

Rules For A Daughter


1. Never settle for mediocrity. You have been given an amazing mind, many talents, and opportunity. Use them.

2. Never let anyone tell you you’re too sensitive as though it’s a bad thing. Most people aren’t sensitive enough.

3. You are pretty. Some girls will hate you just because of that.

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I Was There

I was there.

At the dawn of the home computer, Walkman and video camera, we were little girls giggling at re-plays of our voices on cassette tape recorders.

In the days of  Continue reading

Huge Joy, Tiny Pleasures

Hunter and Jace have shared a room since Jace was out of my bed at about four months old.

There have been many configurations of their sleeping arrangements in four short years: crib and toddler bed, toddler bed and twin-size bed, two twin-sized beds, and finally bunk beds.

They are excellent roommates. There have been many nights that Jon and I have stood ears-pressed outside their door, trying to stifle hysterical laughter at the conversations these two have.

We’ve been impressed with their creative solutions to the longstanding dilemma of who gets to decide what they’re playing next and who’s making up the rules this time.

There have been countless nights that either Jon or I have had to get up and remind them to stop giggling or had Jayden come to us annoyed that she can’t fall asleep because of her brothers’ fooling around past bedtime.

Hunter has been begging me forever to let him sleep with Jace. I always had a reason as to why I wouldn’t let them: it was a school night; they’d never fall asleep; they’d end up fighting over space and blankets; one of them will fall out of bed; and of course there’s the fact that they already slept in bunk beds, so they already do sleep together.

Last night, I finally relented after they came to me together to present their case: It was the weekend, they promise they’ll go right to sleep and they couldn’t even imagine fighting over anything.

The way their faces lit up when I agreed, and the excitement they shared was palpable. The next few minutes was a flurry of grabbing blankets, arranging pillows, accounting for stuffed animals and deciding on who sleeps against the wall.

And then pure joy.

They really are best friends, these two.