The hacks are haunting me.

Because sometimes, a sprig survives the winter.

I could sand down every rough edge on my body but I’d still be taking up space.

Dread comes barreling into the world right alongside our babies, hand in hand with joy, trepidation, and shock. 

I’m collecting anxieties. As the years pass, and especially now that I have children, I can name any number of ways that everyday activities can go sideways.

If I squinched up my eyes and tilted my head and really looked at my unshiny life, I could sort of see… glimmering?

I burst into tears at this suggestion: we’ve been trying to sleep train the un-sleep-trainable. Her cries were biological, not strategic.

I hear a strange noise coming from the bathroom adjacent to my office. It sounds like pipes clanking softly. Or small chains dragging gently, but frenetically.