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Browsing Tag: motherhood

Who Needs Confidence, Anyway

You guys. My kids: they’re so sweet and kind and loving–but they need to work on their compliments. Example #1: I’ve stopped straightening my hair most days and am just letting the crazy waves be themselves. I’m still not too sure about living daily life looking like a knockoff Medusa, but the consensus from my girls is that I need to keep it this way, since it’s more “me.” I thought this was a good thing, but… …from Saoirse: “Mom. I like your hair longer. Now that you’re wearing your hair frizzy you should keep it that way.” Yep. Great. Example #2: First, you need to know 3 things: a) Our old house had a pool. We miss that pool very, very much; b) Quinlan loves that I’m a writer. She actually gets annoyed when she doesn’t see me overwhelmed and unwashed surrounded by notes and manuscript pages; and c) Most authors don’t make enough money to quit their day jobs, let alone afford extravagances. A child of one, though, has no concept of this. So… …Quinlan: “Mom. You need to…

And We All Shine So Brightly

Note: I’ve been struggling a lot with writing about my kids as they get older. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat down to post something similar to what I’ve written below only to cringe and delete the whole thing because…well, I don’t want to violate their privacy. It’s one of the big reasons for my long periods of silence here: I want to document these moments in our lives–but in a way that means my kids will still be speaking to me when they eventually read them. So please bear with me as I navigate this tricky new part of the road.  *     *     * Saoirse stopped me the other night as I was saying goodnight before bedtime. “Mom?” she said. “When you were in fourth or fifth grade, did you ever feel lonely or left out?” She looked like she was going to cry. I’d spent the day with her on a class field trip, and was able to watch her–quiet, reserved–sitting with or talking with just one friend at a time, maybe…

Rough Start

It’s Tuesday, and I’m sitting in my dark office. It’s about eight o’clock in the morning. I’ve been up since 5:30 but that just means I’m only on cup of coffee #2. David has left to take the girls to school, and Cian is still asleep. It’s completely quiet in here save the ticking of a little clock I keep on a table and the soft sound of the rain falling against the porch roof out front. I’ve a salt lamp switched on. That warm glow is like inside sunshine on a day like this. Most days we all need a little sunshine, manufactured or not. (Salt lamp, do your magic.) I’ll also tell you something else: we had family over to celebrate Easter on Sunday, and yesterday I was too occupied with the kiddos to worry about clean-up. So right now? My office is the only room in the house that’s truly clean. I might very well be hiding. I wandered in here with my coffee to do something after the garage door closed, but I&#8217…