In my real life, (not that this isn’t real life, of course) I talk to very few people about my adoption. Which is weird because this space is filled with words, I’d never comfortably discuss with most. Somewhere along the line, I realized the power of using this particular medium to share those thoughts. In
Maybe it was the sudden crash into The Plague. The violent and gross illness that made it’s rounds in our house. Maybe it’s the aftershock of all those eager New Year’s Resolutions. The realization that I’ve fallen far too short, yet another year in a row, and a thirst to be better, to do
My urge to be profound and poetic is strong. And at the same time, I’m rolling my eyes, and telling myself to shut up, because sometimes, poetic and profound just doesn’t get the fucking job done. This insatiable desire to wait for the perfect moment, the perfect words to come pouring from my soul, determined
I’ve been doing an activity laden, probably a little more Type-A than I’d like to admit, Advent calendar for a handful of years. The kids really look forward to it, and as much as it takes a bit of time for me to organize, I do love that we spend most of December making some
I detest morning. Probably because I stay up way to damn late the night before playing Candy Crush or reading or doing any sort of thing that avoids sleep. Which is weird, because I love sleep. Last year, mornings were a special sort of hell around here, and this year, for no rhyme or reason,
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