All in Motherhood

The bathroom reader

It was a normal Sunday in October. The 22nd, to be exact. It was gorgeous out, which is to be expected in October. It's the month of perfect weather. I know adults shouldn't have favorite colors and months and numbers, but mine are as follows: green, 8, October. Evelyn and I both share green and, true to stereotype, Sophie loves pink and Theo's favorite hue is blue…

Dragons in our heads

I unknowingly made the mistake of telling Theo that today he’d have a substitute teacher.

He seemed fine the entire car ride to school, but once we go there, he refused to get out of the car. Like, really refused. I subliminally was getting more and more angry and frustrated and mean, making whispered threats through clenched teeth because you can’t lose it completely in the middle of carpool line…

Non-monogamous vegans

My husband became a vegan about six years ago after watching "Forks Over Knives." He literally went from a diet of coke and burgers to tofu and garbanzo beans overnight. He went cold turkey (minus the turkey). There was no process. Just, boom. One day he was a carnivore, the next he was not...

Chocolate Milk

I'm writing. Obviously doing something. Matt is sitting at the table next to me, just sitting. Sophie comes over with a carton of chocolate milk, looks at me, and repeatedly asks: "Can I have chocolate milk momma?"

Too Rich

It's Arizona in July.

Meaning, it's fucking hot. We went out to get out of the house, but needed to find somewhere indoors because of said heat. The girls got sorbet, Theo got ice cream and Matt and I got acai, something I've recently discovered...

Hard Things

I sent my oldest child to school yesterday, like millions of other parents across the world. We walked the brisk walk down to the bus stop, the wind whipped our hair. She asked, again, for me to drive her and Theo to school so she wouldn't have to take the bus. All of the sudden she didn't feel well. I couldn't take her that day, the bus had to happen. As the bus appeared at the end of the street, I could see her fighting back tears. She grabbed for my hand and walked towards the bus, even though she didn't want to get on it. I was telling her that I loved her, that I was so proud of her, that she was being so brave, and then I found myself saying this: we can do hard things…

Silver Linings

My oldest daughter loves to tell us that she is brown—she takes a lot of pride in the fact that she is half of her father, who is British and Afro-Caribbean, his biological father being full Jamaican. His biological mother was a red head, and I can sometimes see a stray auburn hair amidst his tight curls. My girls get their beautiful and often commented on curls from him, while my son has my hair…