MamaManagement

Do you ever have that feeling, when you're in the middle of some crummy life "thing," that you've been there before? Emotional deja vu. It may not be the same place or even the same people, but it's the same experience and the same feeling. Have you ever taken a step back and realized, I've been through this before. And I hated it the first time around...and the fourth and the fifth. Why am I here again? Why does this keep happening to me? Do you then have a moment where you think, maybe there's something I'm supposed to learn from this that I haven't yet learned. One of those connect-the-dots epiphanies where something that wasn't at all clear to you before suddenly is. Yeah, me too. So, I've moved again. (Okay, over a year ago, but clearly I haven't adjusted yet.) And I'm miserable... again . It's been a roller coaster ride for me since this started almost two years ago, varying widely from "things are fine&qu

My Sweet Cooper My heart feels both leaden and constricted, at once both insurmountably heavy and squeezed tight as a furious fist. My eyes, surrounded by swollen lids, burn. My head aches. My legs are antsy. My stomach churns. I am agitated, with flat affect. I can't concentrate. I can't sit still. I feel dissociated from my surroundings, except for the times when something triggers the wellspring of sadness that lives in my chest and the tears spill once again. I know this is grief. I know this is normal. I know this will ease with time. I know that he was so sick and I know that he was suffering and I know that that is over now. I know that it would not have been right to try and keep him with me. I know he is better off now. And I like all of the pictures people share with my imagination: Cooper with angel wings, Cooper running in a field with other dogs, Cooper getting ham sandwich shaped dog treats from God, Cooper crossing a rainbow bridge, Cooper young and heal

The book does not typically have a homemade mom sticker on it. That's just my personalized copy Dear Mr. King, I'm writing to thank you for your book, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft . I know that you won't actually read this thank you note, but I feel the need to send the sentiment out into the world. That's how much I appreciate what you wrote. I am in the midst of a big chunk of writer's block. Stuck in a place where I'm scared to edit what I've already written. A place where that fear has dribbled over into my writing time too. It is such that I either sit and stare at the empty page unable to pull up a single sentence, or, worse, I avoid the page altogether. After years of feeling this same fear, to finally overcome it and write, only to succumb to it once again, has been painful. The only difference now is my confidence that I'll find my way back to writing soon. For the longest time I didn't believe that. Now I do. But still, I

Birthdays are funny things. Especially as I get older. I think I'm in this limbo land right now. I exist somewhere between the excitement of a child and the nonchalance of an older adult. I'm between "OH MY GOD IT'S MY BIRTHDAY WOOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!" and "What? It's my birthday? I thought it was just Saturday. Well, that's nice. I could eat a cupcake." As a full time mom of two young children I relish the idea of a day that's all about me. Like many moms, I get two a year: my birthday and mother's day. That's it. And I mean that is REALLY it. Every other day...most seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months...all those measurements we use for time ticking by...is about other people. And most of the time that is quite okay with me. Most of the time I relish a life focused on others. I spent the first thirty years focused primarily on me. It's been kind of nice to not have time to dissect (worry, ruminate over) ever