Today is the last weekday my husband is home with me. I kinda hate to admit it, because I should be able to be alone
Linnea is five and a half months old and today is her first day of daycare (insert crying-face emoji … not laughing-crying-face emoji, just straight-up
Birth certificates and diaper bags and pack ‘n plays, oh my! I’ve been reading a lot about the invisible labor of motherhood and never have
Remember the Baby-Sitters Club series, the quintessential young-adult books about the teenage girls who all sit at someone’s house in Connecticut every week, waiting for
I’m a “bad” mom. I’m also a good mom. That must apply to almost every mother out there, because we’re all human and we all
I’m sitting alone at the Seattle airport, on my way to a friend’s bachelorette party. I’m crying. I didn’t cry when my first child, my