Lately I’ve been thinking… I wonder if I could be considered a successful adult. There are times when I’ve doubted the choices I’ve made and wonder if I’ve made the wrong choices. Did those choices I made along the way keep me from “success”? And this got me thinking… What is success? I think, for
I follow a writer who recently lost her husband after a vicious but tragically short fight with cancer. I will not share her name or all of the details of her story as it isn’t my story to tell but if you follow amazing writers and bloggers she may be on your list and you
My wife and I have been together for almost 20 years. She’s the calm to my storm and I’m the go to her stop. We fight, and laugh, and hurt, and love just like all couples and one of my favorite things to do in a quiet moment is to read back over our text
The Hamilton soundtrack has been in heavy rotation in our house for several months now, partly in preparation for a planned Broadway adventure on Lili’s upcoming birthday – but mostly because it’s awesome. Lili digs the varied genres of music incorporated into the score, I enjoy the history and creative wordplay. Two songs have felt
Maybe I am a traditionalist at heart, but I still believe every woman has to do what is in her heart … what is right with her soul. And that is pretty damn progressive.
Even if you’re not a power couple collaborating on a book, you’re still embarking on an amazing journey together. It may sound cliche, but every moment of your life as a parent is an adventure. And any parent who has the privilege of raising children together with a loving, devoted partner has an even sweeter excursion ahead.
Over time, my inner voice became my reality. I succumbed to my inescapable anxiety. It was crippling and all-consuming. And soon I became resentful of my life.
If you or a loved one is suffering from problems with drugs, alcohols, gambling, depression, postpartum or anything else that ails the soul – please know there is help and there is hope. No one is alone, no matter how down they feel.
But loving my husband in that way does not mean that we do not have bad days, or weeks, or months. It does not mean that I see everything he does through rose-colored glasses. It doesn’t even mean that I always like him or what he does. In fact, after ten plus years together, there are days when that man drives me downright crazy. And we argue. Boy, do we argue.
I had not felt awesome in weeks. I was exhausted beyond exhaustion. I was moodier than normal. My boobs were a little sore every time my kids bumped into me. And, man, was I bloated. Every rational part of me knew that it was the new generic birth control that the pharmacy had given me
