In that hospital bed, the question of whether I would do anything for my kids was real.
It’s easy to be so fixated on one specific victory that we miss all the other ones happening around us.
As soon as we opened the door, she became the most fragile thing in our home.
The best I can do is come storming back down the hallway mumbling about, “Freakin’ socks and this house.”
This wasn’t home and no other parents were doing it. That’s what makes it “embarrassing.”
I spent years in the babyhood trenches. I have the scars, words, and formula stains to prove it.
It’s everyone’s chance to remember, even if you don’t want to.
I don’t like that Justin Bieber.
We all rushed to get here. When we did, it was electric bills and frozen waffles.
One day, maybe he’ll be able to tell me, “Yo. Put me down.”