I don’t (always) love farming. But I love the green of our fields in summer / petting the velvety forehead of a cow / the sound of truck wheels on gravel—a harbinger of my husband walking through the door. I love watching new barns go up / dropping kids off for tractor rides / the way the wind whispers through the alfalfa and the smell of damp soil after a rain. I love the way my husband’s passion for his work lights up his face / our connection to the land and where food comes from / that the kids know the name of everyone on the dairy and they pray for them (and the cows) at night. I love ..read more

Because one day the baby won’t go everywhere with a tattered stuffed pig under his arm. Because one day I won’t find scissors and a pile of tags in her closet because every shirt she tried on “felt itchy.” Because one day the sliding glass door won’t be covered with fish window clings and tiny handprints. Because one day he won’t come downstairs after bedtime to proudly show us his latest invention (Lego beyblades). Because one day my living room floor won’t be littered with Dog Man books, googly eye stickers, magnetic darts, and discarded clothes from kids who “got too hot.” Because one day ..read more

Captain’s Log, USS Tiny House Stardate 01092024. It has now been 11 hours since we entered the Zone of Chilly Isolation (homebound on a snow day). The planet natives have lost all sense of reason and have resorted to poking, pinching, and unintelligible shouting at the captain (Mom) to settle all manner of grievances. The natives’ bed garments and occasional lack of pants seem to signify a general lack of decorum and grasp of civilized society. Many casualties (of sanity) reported in the Air Battle of the Balloons and Stuffies. Spirits are low. Hope is waning. Crew leadership is tired, dirty ..read more

Dear Current Jessica, Hi, it’s me. A wiser, wrinklier version of yourself who is—as Holly Flax would say in her best Terminator voice—“from da future.” I’ve been watching you with amusement lately. Not in a mean-spirited or vindictive way, but simply because I remember the depths of the emotions you’re wrestling with. I remember how it felt to sweat and struggle and wonder if you’re failing in all your roles—especially as a mother. I’m sorry to say you’ll never fully shake this feeling of inadequacy, but you will learn to diminish its power. It isn’t easy. Days with little kids can be monoton ..read more

Why is this house such a mess? Because I need to return those shoes. Because I’ve needed to return those shoes for a month. Because—by some strange alchemy—those shoes in their cardboard box have been in our bedroom for so long they’ve turned into a piece of furniture we drape blankets on. Because I’m a little tired. Because I’m a little lost. Because I was completely out of effs to give by the moment bedtime devolved into a “marker fight.” Because these children shed socks and hoodies like molting birds. Because these children eat syrupy pancakes with their hands. Because these children beli ..read more

“A man who has been in another world does not come back unchanged.” –C.S. Lewis Four months into a pandemic and subsequent state shutdown, I sat on the deck behind our house. The mid afternoon sun was still high in the sky. A warm breeze rippled across the pages of the book in my lap and the sound of my children’s laughter danced across the driveway. I looked up to see all three kids gathered around a clump of dirt and grass. “Mom! We found a toad!” My daughter Ellis’s eyes were bright as she pointed to the knobby brown creature at their feet. I smiled and watched my kids gently poke the to ..read more

Gratitude is a funny thing. I feel it in two ways. Sometimes gratitude buzzes gently in my fingertips. My body flushes with warmth. I fold into my husband’s arms. My children giggle together in the sand. What joy. What a miraculous life. Other times, gratitude is an electric shock searing my innards. Breath leaves my lungs. Our car narrowly avoids a collision. Children are gunned down in their schools. I consider how much I have, and—just as quickly—how much I have to lose. It’s paralyzing sometimes. All this joy and fragility. But I hold it all. I have to. Because gratitude and grief aren’t ..read more

One of my children’s wails filled the air. I turned my head from the sink full of post-dinner dishes to see Anders dart into the kitchen with a guilty look on his face. “What happened?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level and resist the urge to say what I was really thinking: What did you do this time? “Nothing,” Anders’ face flashed an impish grin, but it faltered under my gaze. “Ellis fell.” “No,” corrected my husband Kyle, entering the room with Anders’ sobbing sister in his arms. “He pulled the blanket out from under her and she hit her head on the floor.” “Anders! Why did you do that ..read more

001 / These are the days of sweatpants and scrunchies of diligent tracking and incessant googling of eyes that burn with fatigue by dinnertime of numbers on the scale that aren’t going down as quickly as I’d hoped of spontaneous flashes of rage, despair, or crushing gratitude of success being measured in naps, nursing sessions, and baskets of clean laundry of feeling like I’m never doing enough of feeling like I’m never enough 002 / These are the days of ships in the night of zone coverage parenting of marital miscommunications and bags under our eyes of saying “I miss you” even though we liv ..read more

“Your baby’s head is definitely down,” the doctor says, pressing her hands firmly on my lower belly. “That’s probably why you’re feeling more pressure. He’s getting into place.” I wince and nod as she helps me back into a seated position. A small movement ripples through my abdomen and my hand unconsciously goes to the spot. She turns back to the computer. “Other than pelvic pain, how are you feeling?” “Oh, you know,” I laugh. “Fine. Nothing you wouldn’t expect near the end of pregnancy.” We share a rueful smile, knowing that life-altering growth almost always comes with pain. I look out the ..read more