Don’t put that word in my mouth

She did it again, God. But this time, my sweet youngest child heard her. And so, I had to speak up not once, but twice. First, to her. Then, to him. It seems the order should have been reversed. You know who I’m talking about. The one who speaks before she thinks. The one that…

Longing and a hard truth

It is because I lust for it so that it eludes me. Or so I surmise. And I do mean lust. I can feel the desire for it physically. It only makes the object of my lust more embarrassing. After all, financial security is not sexy. No. It is not supposed to be lusted after….

A mama’s Christmas arsenal

I hugged my son, long and hard, as his shoulders heaved and he let out the emotions that had roiled just below the surface all day. His sobs brought tears to my eyes and I held him so tightly, willing the pain to go away. And yet, I know, pain has a purpose. But, that…

The time between door slams

The door slammed and I heard my sons’ voices fade into the night. I believe they were bantering about the World Series, and whether their hometown Cubbies or my hometown Indians should win. And then, silence. The dog looked at me and I at her, both of us at a loss. We are used to…

In differences, small victories

There are days I think I am raising a parrot. As I hang up a conference call, my son pipes up with not one—but two—perfect British accents. One Northern, one Welsh-based. While he cannot tell me which accent hales from which region, he mimics the pronunciations perfectly. Unremarkable until he does the same with Indian,…

Late again

I cried in the car on the way home this morning. One of those mornings you hope a neighbor isn’t traveling the same route you are. And I’m writing about it not in a fit of self-pity (oh, I detest those) but because in this universal human experience, I am sure I am not alone….

Enough? Hell, yes.

I tell my kids often that they are enough. You will know what that means if you have ever felt like you were not enough. Enough to ace a big test. Enough to get that promotion. Enough to be loved in your ugliest moments with your jiggliest bits. It is important to know that we…

Motherhood and apple pie

Here in the States, where we are about to celebrate Mother’s Day, we have a folksy saying that involves motherhood and apple pie. When describing things quintessentially American, motherhood and apple pie are about as sacred as it gets, besides our flag. The saying has been toyed with over the years, its meaning morphing to…

A report from the front lines

I am learning so much lately. Little tidbits of “wisdom” provided by ever so helpful males I have met via my foray into online dating. And who am I not to share these magnanimous pearls? After y’all have been so very kind and supportive through my journey to get to the point where dating even…

Vroom vroom

I am not supposed to admit this. It will only lead to disapproving stares, however thinly veiled, at my local grocery or on the school sporting fields. I enjoy an admiring male stare, the rev of an engine as it passes by, an appreciative sideways glance. In my conservative town, an admission such as this…

Know from whence you came

“You do not come from this.” I said it to my son, matter of factly, calmly but with very clear emphasis. The “this” at the time was—well, you fill in the blank. If you have children, you know from time to time that they test limits. Whatever it was—lying, not giving a true effort, letting…

Being saved from my crazy self

Jesus, I love it when I am saved from myself. Talk about grace. I am having a perfect Sunday morning. I know you know what those feel like. Aretha and I singing “Baby I Love You” at the top of our lungs while I cook my son and his buddy breakfast. Etta James joined in…