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Start New

Posted on March 26, 2017

Friday into Saturday I was in a funk. I tried to push through, moving from one thing to the next like I could outrun it. The funk clung. Sean knows me, recognizes these lows after 18 years together, and has mastered worrying from a gentle distance. He did things to clear my path—setting the girls up with activities, passing me a plate of eggs and bacon, setting a bottle of sriracha next to it and saying “Eat, please.” I felt myself slipping deeper, colors began to mute and I forgot all the reasons I’d been grateful for the weekend to arrive. Despite the clutch of nothingness, I ate. One solid achievement I’ve unlocked in my 40s is to listen to him more often. I still resist…

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Rooted in the land of torn

Posted on March 21, 2017

It seems that there is an inevitable counterweight to pressure, when things at work begin to move quickly, requiring more focus and time, the details at home get trickier. I suppose I signed on for this, I knew that being a mom and being a business owner would multiply the number of things and people who are my responsibility. What I did not understand was that the peace I make with sacrifice and compromise would not be one and done, I go through it over and over again. “I’ve got this.” “I am failing.” “I can’t do this.” “I have to do this.” “What have I done?” “Why do I do this?”I read the words of other women on both sides of this, I read…

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One Day More

Posted on March 19, 2017

  Our arrival to the next phase has been an exercise in time bending. My friend Lindsey Mead often says, “Years are minutes,” which to me is breathtaking in its truth. I can still feel the sensation of nursing the girls, whether for sustenance or to ease an injury. Their tiny heads nestled in my arm, impossibly soft fingers patting my side or stroking my chin. I remember the chill of the hard lift chair at Pico beneath me as I watched the three of them ride the lift alone together for the first time. Just like that, it was over, they ride together now. It was the perfect metaphor for how the success of parenting is in shepherding the kids to be able to…

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Count On This

Posted on March 7, 2017

Tomorrow is Wednesday. Babies will be born. People will die. Marriages will end. First crushes will crescendo. People will be hired. New stories will begin. Garbage bags will tear. We will all feel different things. As my Instagram feed has shifted, a result of each of us grabbing the reins of our own stories and sharing what we feel is appropriate, I am seeing bouquets of flowers because life is too short not to buy them, as often as I am seeing flowers because life was in fact too short. Mountainous swells of joy follow words that so succinctly portray heartache it doesn’t seem possible that they occupy the same realm. I have no answers, but I do know one thing—I want to fight time…

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