I've been reluctant to begin this series of essays on religion. Partly because I'm unsure where to start, and partly because I'm unsure how it will end. More the latter, than the former. If this series ends with me saying "I'm an atheist" what will that mean to the people that I love, but who…
Navel gazing. I heard this phrase twice in the past week. It leads me to consider: Is blogging naval gazing? I'd be willing to bet that 90% of all blogs are a bit navel-gazey-ish. This blog definitely is. I write mostly about my own personal journey. I don't engage the audience as much as I…
So this is how writers with young children get their writing done. I was up from 2-4 am with the baby boy. He wore me down like a crashing wave wears down a mountain. Slowly. Relentlessly. Fitting imagery, too, since his sound machine is set to "crashing waves" and I've spent the last 2 hours…
I must remember this. this connection to you, sweet baby this meeting of needs this providing for this soft suckling this sacred gaze I must remember it This season is closing, changing, you grow, independent of me and I of you the finality this end, I know, is not the end, but an end Goodbye…
Oh, the Twenties. That age range when I was supposed to be an adult, but had no idea how to be an adult. The time when I insisted I was an adult, but made very un-adult decisions. I made it through my twenties, relatively unscathed. Now, older and wiser, I have some advice for those…
I'm good at picking boogers now. I'm good at wiping butts. I'm good at "fly-me-higher" now. I'm good at kissing cuts. I'm pretty good at bedtime songs. I draw an extra bubbly bath. I hope I'm good at guiding you as you traverse your path. I'm good at reading books, I recite them all by…
It's been one of those mornings. The ones where I muster all my strength to stop myself from screaming at my kids. The baby mashes his face against my breast, desperate to nurse, but then won't stay latched for more than 15 seconds. The toddler disagrees loudly with any and every suggestion. No, not those shoes! No, not wear this shirt! Evelyn want to brush hair! No brush hair! It's been one of those mornings.
From 2007-- I was 26 when I wrote this and evidently FULL of angst. Enjoy!...
It's been five years. I still remember what I was wearing, what I was doing when my phone rang. It was the Beaumont Police. A woman's voice. "Is this Amye Wilson?" she asked. "Yes." "I'm going to let you speak with Jim Fuller." He told me that Dad had passed away sometime during the night…
“Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had, and dealing with fears you didn’t know existed.” -Linda Wooten I was afraid. When I brought my daughter home from the birth center, I was terrified. Not overtly. Not openly. Not wide-eyed and pale skinned. But beneath all the joy, excitement, fatigue and…
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