My boy has started playing soccer. That makes me, officially, a soccer mom.
I feel like I should start driving my husband’s Subaru and invest in some khaki pants. I need to start doing crunches and buy a lawn chair with extra large cup holders and a place to attach an umbrella. Continue Reading
I have one tattoo, which I got when I was nineteen years old. It’s on my hip, it’s hidden, and to be quite honest has been ripped apart by my two pregnancies. It took me a long time to decide what to imprint on myself and where. We don’t need to get into my tattoo or what it means or whatever, but I will tell you that the runner up was a poem by Emily Dickinson, which I wanted tattooed on my shoulder blade. Continue Reading