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The Lynnlee Home for Wayward Stuffies
I regret to inform everyone that we have opened an animal rescue, and I would like it entered into the record that I did not approve this. There was no family meeting, no business plan, no nonprofit paperwork, and no zoning board. Nobody commissioned a feasibility study to find out whether our house could physically…
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The Tears of Motherhood
It starts in a bathroom, the way so much of motherhood does. Two pink lines on a plastic stick. Maybe she has been waiting years for them. Maybe they show up as a total surprise on a random Tuesday. Either way, she sits down right there on the tile because her legs stop cooperating, and…
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Searching for My Adultier Adult
I’m forty-one years old. According to the government, that makes me an adult. According to my children, I know everything. According to my husband, I own enough power tools to open a small hardware store and terrify a landlord. According to my brain, none of that matters, because I am still waiting for the actual…
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I Accidentally Opened a Luxury Timeout Resort
When I was a kid, getting in trouble looked a whole lot different than it does today. There were no conversations about emotional regulation. Nobody asked me to identify my feelings. There were no breathing exercises, sensory toys, weighted blankets, or calming music. There certainly wasn’t a tiny canvas teepee filled with aromatherapy and fidget…
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July Isn’t Finished Yet
If July were a person, we’d all agree she needs therapy. A whole team of therapists, actually, and maybe a retreat somewhere with no wifi. We’re only halfway through the month and it feels like we’ve lived six months in two weeks, which tracks, because nothing in my life moves at a normal speed anymore.…
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Picture This: Royse City, 2026
I say that in my best Sophia Petrillo voice because my nanny loved The Golden Girls, and honestly the older I get, the more I realize Sophia was just a tiny Italian woman documenting chaos before blogging was invented. She would have been unstoppable with a WordPress account and a wifi connection. I think about…
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I Became My Mother
There are certain things you swear you’ll never do, the declarations you make when you’re twenty and invincible. I’ll never sound like my mother. I’ll never get excited about appliances. I’ll never say things like, “Did you unplug the curling iron?” I’ll never drink Gatorade before bed. Yet here we are. At two in the…
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Sometimes I Want to Run Away Too
The graduation party was supposed to feel happy, and it did, mostly, somewhere underneath the layer of complete and total sensory overload that is hosting a graduation party for what felt like the entire population of a small municipality. There were people everywhere, food everywhere, kids everywhere, and cups sitting in places cups should never, ever…
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Footprints in the Paint
Somewhere between senior sunrise, graduation rehearsal number four, missing TSI records, and me accidentally walking through wet deck paint with Lynnlee, I realized none of us actually know what we’re doing. Not the parents. Not the schools. Not the kids. Not even the people assigning five full days of graduation practice. Now before anybody comes…
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Perfectly Imperfect
Today feels like a Sunday made of imperfections. Not dramatic failures. Not life-shattering moments. Just tiny human ones stacked on top of each other until they start to feel heavy. I’m thinking about the typo on the back cover of my latest Mommy Magic book. The one I didn’t catch until after it was already…
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