There’s just something about a mother’s eyes

"The chicken needs a bit more salt," I advised as I handed over the brown paper sack stuffed with the makings of a taco dinner. She took the bag, this perfect stranger, and looked back at me with her crystal-clear Lake Louise eyes. "The procedure worked," she sob-spoke back to me. And I saw it

A letter to my postpartum self

Dear postpartum body of mine, Most of the time, I start letters with something like, "You know, it's been awhile since we talked ..." Except that would be a lie. I talk to you all the time. In fact, you may be cringing now, wondering what I might have to critique you on today. After

I don’t do mom’s groups

This morning was mom's group.  It's my mid-week sanctuary. A little splice of time I which I need to contribute nothing to anyone --- just soak in sweet  coversation with my friends, escape from parenting my older kids for a bit, and enjoy coffee and treats. I was invited to this mom's group for months

I am 1 in 4

I am your friend. Your coworker. Your barista. Your accountant. Your personal trainer.   You see me at the grocery store with my kids. My baby swaddled up to my chest, my two older kids hanging off the cart I push around. You comment on how full my arms are. I smile on the outside. On the inside,

The gift worth opening

One of my favorite parts about Christmas is wrapping presents.  It's not so much what is inside --- although I often love that too.  It is the ability to choose a beautiful textured, graphic printed paper. To neatly cover any rounded edges, disjointed parts, in a tidy box. To finish every detail with intention and