My unborn child has most certainly “popped.” There is no hiding this belly any longer and it won’t be going away anytime soon. Looking back, I am tempted to wonder when it happened. When did I become noticeably pregnant? For weeks, I waited to “show,” wanting my external body to model my internal reality. As my husband took weekly photos of my “bump,” I grew increasingly convinced that my pregnancy was obvious to the random onlooker. Now, however, when I look back on those early photos, I . . .
Hi friends! Here is my latest piece for Red Tent Living: Several years ago I really wanted a Stretch Armstrong doll for Christmas. The doll’s marketing team must have known what they were doing because they targeted me through catchy commercials and it worked. Once I saw the rubbery doll stretch to incredible lengths, I was sold. Wouldn’t you know, my consistent Stretch Armstrong-focused pleas worked—he was waiting for me under the Christmas tree that year. I was mesmerized by Stretch’s . . .
As you know, my husband and I moved across town just before Christmas. The apartment we left was the first one we shared together as husband and wife. We moved into it freshly married—6 weeks, in fact—and 2,000 miles away from what we considered “home.” Two years later, we’ve left that apartment with a dog in tow and a baby on the way. Our lives expanded in that little home. We began the lifelong adventure of figuring out how to love each other well and how to respect one another’s quirks. We . . .
I’m no Grinch, but I have exactly zero Christmas decorations up in my home. In fact, as Christmas draws near I’ve actually been taking down my home’s decor, leaving the walls blank aside from a few vacant nails. We’re in the process of moving. It’s a terrible process. Don’t get me wrong, we’re thrilled about the move, but moving is awful. It’s hard work and I always find I have so much more stuff than I originally thought. We’ll be getting into our new place this weekend, a week before we . . .
I’ve been a little bit proud and a lot bit celebratory this week as I approach my two-year writing anniversary on October 16th. This is, of course, not marking the moment when I first began writing, but it is the day when I committed to publishing a piece of new writing at least once each week. My brand new husband and I had moved halfway across the country only a couple of weeks earlier. We didn’t have internet in our home yet, so I went to a nearby Panera, took a deep breath, and created my . . .
I had a highly anticipated (by me) post set to go out to you this week but, in light of the recent events, the timing doesn’t feel appropriate. That piece can wait because today and this week my mind is on Las Vegas. You may have seen my initial response to the shooting posted on social media. I’m trying to be really intentional about living into my words, leaving the house with a real awareness of who is around me and how I am helping them to feel seen and respected. I met a new neighbor . . .