Once a year I come on here and bemoan All The Things and apologize for Not Posting Regularly. Blogging is such a peculiar art as, with most online media, one feels like one has to be present all the time, and if one is not...
Read moreFor Mamas of Littles: It gets better
Never was there a more sentimental rabbit hole than the new Facebook app, On This Day. To prove it's addictiveness, because it is "not yet available" to all users, I regularly sign on to my husband's page to fall down it. On this day in 2011, a naked...
Read moreFaith like a child
Our first big morning together was mad. Team members were in and out of our house, Asher received a swift hit to the head with a hurling stick, and I threw every single piece of fruit, meat and dairy on the table in hopes it would suffice jet-lagged bellies.
Read moreHow to be called (an archived love letter to the eldest)
I haven't written about Jack in a long time. Around the time we moved back to Ireland, he began to place a high value on privacy. It was both endearing and frightening, my firm motherly hold on my firstborn seeming to slip ever so slightly.
Read moreOn being done, the sequel
On Sunday night I laid down next to him and cried. It was such a small thing, really, but to me it was the world shifting. Life as I know it, my life, mother-of-babies life, is over.
Tomorrow, I thought, tomorrow will be a new one, and I never even mastered the old one.
He was on his side and I was on mine, and I tried whispering I love you one last time before the baby left and boy began, but I got no reply. And I cried saying goodbye to this era, to the babies, to the rocking chairs and the nursing hours.
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