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Sleep Cycles: A Multigenerational Lie
Every generation has very strong opinions about sleep. They deliver them confidently. Loudly. Usually unsolicited. And every single one of them swears they’ve cracked the code. Spoiler: they have not. There’s the “keep the house silent” generation. For the love of God, let the baby sleep. No dishes. No TV. No breathing too hard. If I hear a noise,…
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When I Didn’t Interrupt
Harper fell asleep on my shoulder the way only a three-year-old can, heavy. Trusting. Like my body was exactly where she expected the world to be. Her head tucked just under my chin. Her breath warm. That soft toddler weight that somehow feels both grounding and temporary at the same time. I didn’t move. Lynnlee…
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The Way Cancer Arrives
Cancer doesn’t knock. It doesn’t announce itself with urgency, drama, or a warning shot across the bow. It doesn’t roll in like a storm you can track from miles away. It arrives like something venomous. Quiet. Efficient. Patient. Like a snake in tall grass…perfectly still until the moment it strikes. And by the time you…
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Hot Sauce in My Coffee and Other Signs It Was Saturday
I woke up tired. Not “slept weird” tired. Stayed up too late working on the book and hunting for the perfect theater wall décor tired. Yes, I’m remodeling again. No, I haven’t learned from the last two rooms. Please don’t judge me, love. We’re iced in until Tuesday. It’s Saturday morning. The entire family is home.…
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The Women Who Stayed
The coffee pot is on its last leg again. Which feels personal, honestly. I’m home from vacation but my body didn’t get the memo. My sleep schedule is wrecked, my skin is mad at the sun, my brain is already sprinting ahead to unpacking, work, homeschool rhythms, and getting everyone back into the shape of…
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Packing With a Neurodivergent Family Is a Contact Sport
Packing for a trip used to mean throwing clothes in a bag and hoping for the best. Now it feels like preparing a small group of highly specialized, emotionally volatile scientists for space travel. There are lists. There are backups to the lists. There are emergency backups to the backups. And there is TSA who,…
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The House After Everyone’s Asleep (Or So I Think)
I stay up late for the quiet. I tell myself it’s self-care. A sacred, silent retreat after the house finally exhales. Except Harper sleeps in my bed. And somehow, somehow, even asleep, she is still touching me. Her feet dig into my back like a nightly massage from hell. Not soothing. Not gentle. Just tiny heels…
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Unbothered, Not Unhinged
When I was in my twenties, there were women I quietly admired. They didn’t rush. They dressed for comfort, not approval. They said “no” without apologizing or offering a five-point explanation. They didn’t seem bothered by what other people thought of them and more importantly, they didn’t seem interested in finding out. They weren’t loud…
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The Women Who Survive
Grief does strange things. It sends you digging through memory, through stories, through the quiet corners of family conversations you never lingered in before. I was looking for Nanny. For pieces of her I hadn’t written down yet. For proof that she really was as strong as I remember. For comfort, if I’m honest. Somewhere…
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The Carousel Wouldn’t Stop
I was up at 2:07 a.m. to the kind of news you never forget. The room was dark, quiet, still and then suddenly it wasn’t. My nanny was gone. There are losses that take a piece of you, and there are losses that take a whole chapter. She was the woman who raised me to survive, to…
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