In the tiny town of Monteagle, TN, there's a flea market that Taylor and I peruse like shell scavengers on a beach. The vendors sell toys with missing parts and corroded batteries. They sell boxes of Little Debbie cakes shaped like Christmas trees--in July. They sell glossy, sumptuously curvy bell peppers and apples that snap… Continue reading Flea market finds
The month after I had a baby, I couldn't figure out how to go to the drug store. My parents had finally left after staying to help with Jackson for the first week, and then returning a few days later after I started sobbing on the phone during a casual update. Taylor was back at… Continue reading The grace in need
Lately I’ve been complaining that I can’t write. My previously complex sentences fragment or drift off into vague wishes for an iced coffee or fantasies about a new granite countertops. The brilliant idea that came to me in bed last night slips away by morning, fleeting as a dream. Motherhood frazzles. If there’s no room… Continue reading The things we carry
I work from home, which happens to also be the place I live and care for my 11-month-old baby. When I first had him, people told me that newborns slept for 18 hours a day. 18 hours! I can get so much done, I’d thought. They didn’t tell me that would only be true if… Continue reading The Gift of Exhaustion
I’m alive. So mumming took more of my time than I expected (yes, I can hear you experienced parents laughing now), but we’re sleeping through the night now (trying not to jinx anything here) and I have a little more bandwidth to write. So here’s to posting more in 2018. Also, I grew up in… Continue reading To writing more in 2018! Plus a round-up of my work from 2017.
The morning before the eclipse, all I think about is not blinding my 5-month-old baby. I drape his carrier in a blue swaddle and hustle him into my friend’s house like a body builder carrying a teetering log. I’m terrified that the cloth will slip and he’ll take a wayward, devastating glance at the sun.… Continue reading Flyover state of mind
People kept telling me I didn't look pregnant. At 5 months, my sister-in-law studied the slack of my shirt over my flat tummy. "Can I touch it?" I hesitate. "Sure." There's nothing there but the slight pouch from my slouchy posture, a relic of adolescent shame about my 6'0 stature. Taylor and I attended his… Continue reading Vessel: thoughts on motherhood and the body
