MOTHERHOOD
morning
Honestly, I haven’t always loved the morning. My body and mind seem to move in half-time, fumbling for order with garbled words and hair and breath. And I don’t like fumbling. But these years of
happy thanksgiving
Sometimes it is easy to look at other people’s pictures or lives and feel that I am somehow missing out. That I don’t have enough. Sometimes things don’t go as I plan, even when I
lately {phone edition}
When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive – to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love. — Marcus Aurelius I’ve been thinking on these words
when love makes you vulnerable
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart
spilled milk | laughter
One day our life will be quiet and clean just as it was in the beginning before kids, and I always hope that in those days, I remember making the most of the dirty, hard
10.
Your father was traveling through Cuba when I discovered I was pregnant with you. For days, I let this strange, new idea roll through my mind and out onto my tongue: mother. I am a mother. And for those few
lately
Even in the mud and scum of things, something always, always sings. ― Ralph Waldo Emerson bath-time conversations / hide-and-seek / making and loving these / visit from Nina + Papa / starting our school routine again
spilled milk | sleep
We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams. ― Arthur O’Shaughnessy, Ode We snuggled up in my bed for an afternoon nap last week, a rare (and delightful) occurrence these days. With my eyes
spilled milk | mess
I’m thrilled (and honored and any other exciting adjective) to announce my invitation to collaborate on this beautiful project, Spilled Milk. “Spilled Milk is a collaborative photography blog, featuring a collection of photographs from 19