Photo by Dương Nhân from Pexels Here is what I know about grief: It is anger. Rage that stabs at my spine and claws my throat. It burrows into my skull. It lurks just there. Just behind. It visits at night, shuffling, dragging brokenness into my bed. And I know what I need to do. I hear it…
See this lovely photo of my kids doing a little activity in their PJs? They're so engaged. So focused. So happy. I look like a super mom! I felt like super mom! Let me put this in context for you though. Immediately after this my daughter refused to get dressed and brush teeth, yelled at…
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…
"Who told you only the soft could be good mothers? That mothers could not be dragons in disguise?" -- Nikita Gill I began writing this series on motherhood hoping to confront the resentment I feel toward being a mom. Why is there an underlying skepticism about the value of motherhood? Why does it sometimes feel like…
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.
“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…
I have one child sleeping and another off with her father getting some groceries. The house is quiet. Which, as any parent knows, is rare. I don't know that I really understood 'quiet' before I had children. Frankly, now that I have them, I'm not sure I understand how to handle 'quiet'. Nonetheless, I find…
I am grateful for the dark room and the comfortable bed. For the man who quietly enters trying hard not to wake me. For the tiny blond girl following behind him like a little duck. I am grateful for the tender conversation I overhear between them in the bathroom while the man gets ready for…
Story writer. Book blogger. Tea lover.
frightfully wondrous things happen here.
Lifes experiences in lesser words
Poetry & Prose...from Prompts
Learn Something New Daily, Teach What You Love
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
Putting ideas into words.
Author, Artist, Anthropologist
Pen to paper
Charly Slipp 