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Mummy, I don’t mean to make you angry.
I see you get angry. I see your eyes getting smaller and smaller, your mouth becomes a thin line. I don’t like it when you get angry.
I’m sorry, but do I know you?
The question turned and echoed, fighting its way over the clamour in my head. I saw him, my boy, climbing the rope ladder and I was about to go to him, knowing he had never managed on his own. But look - he’s done it. And I falter in my steps.
Goodnight, My Heart
Some nights, I cannot sleep. I toss and turn, and then I toss and turn a little more.
And then there were two
How often have I sat down to start this piece? No, how often have I thought about writing it? God knows. I’ve written the opening line in my head so many times it should probably win a Booker at this point.
Pretty Shoes
I can wear pretty shoes at the park 🐾
not running around after toddlers, yes I can
Life, Pregnancy and Raising a Fearless Toddler
I yelled today. And yesterday. Sometimes, I don’t recognize myself in this woman that’s usually so hard to anger.
How therapy is helping me be a better mother
There’s never been an easier time than now to believe you need to do it all, and to do it well. If not for your own sake, then for the sake of those watching.
Through Your Eyes
Ah, to be you! To see the world with your eyes, to make anew and exciting the mundane, to see possibility in every new space, every new object, every new situation.
Mother.