Being a mother of multiples has thrust me into a unique situation. I had my own preconceived notions about what having multiples would be like, but I couldn’t even imagine the comments and questions I would receive from other people about my multiples. You see, my girls don’t look anything alike, nor do they act anything alike. At. All. One twin is very much into princesses, makeup, and ballet. The other twin loves the Avengers and can’t wait to take her first karate class next year. It blows people’s minds that they are not the same person or have the same interests. I, on the other hand, couldn’t be more thrilled to not have carbon copies of the same person. (more…)
Looking at me, badass isn’t a word that would immediately come to mind. Even knowing me, you still likely wouldn’t use that adjective. I’m a plain-jane mom who lives in a subdivison at the end of a cul-de-sac. I have no visible tattoos, my hair is a mousy brown, and I have very few edges; I’m pretty soft, actually. Even so, I’m a badass. And I wear my badges with pride. (more…)
I wonder what it was like right before the Dark Ages. I wonder if the people knew what was coming, that the time in their lives would be known as the Dark Ages. A step backwards from what they had enjoyed just a year earlier. The signs were there. The world always gives us clues about what’s to come. Sometimes they are just hard to see.
I imagine that is much like the shift from baby to the dreaded twos. In the midst of the good, happy, sweet times of babyhood lie the signs of what’s to come. A bout of screaming here, a little more demanding request for milk there. It seems so harmless out of context. And then one day, you wake up and the screaming doesn’t stop. The demands have no end. The sweet little girl that you held is no longer. You aren’t quite sure who the new girl is. A month later, you look back and with horror realize you’ve entered the dark age. (more…)
Labor Day is a holiday that pays tribute to the American worker, and rightly so, for without the labor movement, the United States wouldn’t enjoy strength and prosperity today. Labor means hard work, a physical and mental effort. This certainly applies to the American worker. It also applies to every mother.
First we have Labor, with a capital L. You know what I’m talking about–the hard work of physically bringing a child into the world. Every mother has a different story, but every story has a theme of endurance, strength, pain, and love–this applies to natural births, cesarean sections, epidural births, water births, etc. We all birthed a child, so we can all be united in our stories of Labor. Only mothers know what Labor means. (more…)
The seasons are changing. I’m not ready to say goodbye to summer, but I can’t help but enjoy the fall feel of the mornings. I step out outside, taken by the sharp, crisp cool air of fall rolling in. I take a deep breath. The new air smells just as crisp. Clean.
Then I step back inside. My nose automatically takes the defensive again. A position that it has taken and become quite accustomed to since I first brought Riley home. Before then, it was relaxed. Laid back. Quick to point out an offensive smell but reassured that it was a quick fix. There are no quick fixes anymore. (more…)