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Mothering doesn’t get easier. It gets stronger.
You know how intensely irritating (read: soul-sucking) it is when you’re barely surviving the raising of little littles and you’ve been covered in spit-up and boogers and yogurt and poo for days, and you’re praying for just three hours of uninterrupted sleep (or a terrible car accident that will put you in the hospital for…
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Chafing Is No Joke
Chafing is no joke, you guys. Chafing is no joke, and this is how I know… I corresponded last week with my friend, Fiona, who wrote many beautiful and wonderful things. We connected. Deeply. About Important Stuff. Like Faith and Parenting. And Irreverence and Laughter. And being Real, Complex People (read: Completely Bonkers). About Welcoming…
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I run very fast on my merry-go-round in my dreams.
“I run very fast on my merry-go-round in my dreams.” Cai Woolsey, age 5 “MOM!” “MOM!” “MomMomMomMomMOM!” His cry echoes through the house. Seriously? I think as I lug myself out of bed to go to my preschool baby. I can tell by his tone that he’s not distressed, so I’m less motivated than usual…
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The Turkey Trots
There aren’t a lot of things grosser or more physically painful than being a mother, but running a marathon might be one of them. Jen: “People who run marathons sometimes poop themselves.” Me: “Nuh. Uh.“ I didn’t know. I hadn’t heard. But that kind of makes my point. I mean, other than that one time…