S'mores Life

I will be doing a new weekly series called "Love Letters" on smoreslife.blogspot.com. Welcome to the 1st edition. In each letter, I'll be writing to "someone" - that person may be you. It may be me. It may be both. But no matter whom I am writing to, I am writing from a place of my own limited personal experiences. It may be from a place of first hand experience, or it may not. I hope it touches you, but it may not. If you don't feel seen or heard in these love letters, kindly reach out to me. I'd love to hear about your own experience. Love Letter Series: Number One Dear Mom on Switch Day, I know you're feeling more than one thing right now. I don't know what those feelings are. They may be pure agony, fear, and resentment. Or they may be all relief, gratitude, and hope. It depends on so many factors, and I cannot assume any of them about you.  If your situation is anything like mine, it is a mix of both. I know that feeling of equally dreading ...

If you have mothered, I am holding space for you on Sunday. I am holding space for you: If you just saw the faintest positive on a stick, and are dreaming hopes and dreams for the life inside you. If you just received the call from the adoption agency that you have been matched. If you just left the ultrasound office and heard the words "There's no heartbeat." If you are up nursing or making bottles all night, falling asleep as you feed your baby. If you had to return the crib, and buy a casket. If you are drinking lemonade and poking your belly while your partner patiently waits to feel those (not so) little kicks. If you are making a birth plan. If you are having to rethink that birth plan. If Sunday comes, and no one acknowledges the life growing inside you. If you are greeted on Sunday with homemade breakfast in bed of Lucky Charms, OJ, and broccoli, or some other toddler perfected meal. If you receive a card with a child's growing hand print on it. If you receive...

When all of this first happened We talked of the curve being flattened So when Covid 19 first hit, At first it seemed like it would just involve me having to sit I wasn't that sad, I'm not gonna lie Finally, an excuse not to have to hug to say hi I felt selfishly relieved I could drop the extracurricular schedule that was so complexly weaved Pretty soon it became clear The only thing dropping would be a tear And not just one or two or three So much crying and whining and being a bear and that's not including the kids, that's just talking about me I tried to watch Netflix and make my own cleaning wipes I wanted to learn a new craft and rack up some Bumble swipes But all of those hopes and dreams quickly faded As google classroom, Zoom, and Phonics apps were upgraded Suddenly I was a homeschool teacher and learning how to be a video making children's preacher All the technology was driving me up a wall I watched children balancing snacks and a macbook, trying not to f...

You don’t have to be a parent of a verbal child for very long to constantly be prepared for questions you can’t really prepare for. “Why did *insert second grade kid’s name here* tease me?” “Will you the this book to me?” (Which wouldn’t be a hard question to answer if the question didn’t actually mean “Will you read the same 20 pages of the same book that you’ve read to me every night for the past month?”) “What’s for dinner?” (It’s a hard question for some people, ok?!) “What are we doing this morning? This afternoon? Tonight? Right now?” “When we die, do we go back inside a big mama?” “Why is your belly so round and so soft?” “Why did you and daddy get a divorce?” “What did you fight about?” “What if you find a boyfriend and you really love him but we hate him?” (This one is actually pretty simple to answer.  ️) “Did you feel butterflies in your tummy when you loved daddy?” "Why did you marry Daddy?" "Did...