By Sonya Spillmann @sonyaspillmann I started crying on May 6th.  The day after I sat at my kitchen table with my daughter’s friends’ moms—two women I’d never met before—to plan a joint graduation party for the girls. I’d already asked another friend to help me out, I’m not good at this, I’d said. My friend willingly agreed, then came to look at my backyard to assess the space, the way an interior designer might walk into my living room and instead of accepting the old couch and bookshelf as pragmatic, she envisions a plan and a purpose—delight even?—far beyond what I have settled for. Fr ..read more

By Molly Flinkman @molly_flinkman The words came out of my mouth on a warm fall night last September.  There I was, seated in a circle of mismatched lawn chairs with a group of moms, and, as moms do when they get together, we were talking about our kids. At some point in the conversation, one of the moms—the one in the thick of babies and toddlers—told us it all felt like so much. She wondered aloud if she’d ever sleep through the night again or leave in the middle of the day to grab a coffee by herself. There were nods and assurances of solidarity, and that’s when I said it. “The crazy ..read more

By Karen Miller @karen_rose_m “If you boys can sit together nicely and watch a show while we wait in line, I’ll get you a treat.” I offer the bribe to my sons who are all home on fall break from school. I’m not above trading Sonic slushies for good behavior today. While my second grader’s friend is on vacation in Cancun and another friend is camping in Yosemite, we are here, standing third in line at the neighborhood food pantry.  A friendly older lady named Maria greets us at the door. “Did you make an appointment, Ma’am?” she asks, the intonation in her voice telling me she’s asked thi ..read more

By Rebecca Moran @rebecca_m_writes My father was seated in “his chair” at our small dining room table after dinner one night when I was eight. The table was round, but his strong presence—the advice he doled out, his loud laugh, and the barks he emitted when my brother and I pushed his buttons, combined with his towering six-foot, three-inch frame—made his seat the unrefuted head of the table. This particular night, after hearing me complain about having to clean up my toys, he began one of his famous soliloquies with his trademark, “You know, Beck, when I was a kid …” I’m sure I sighed, brac ..read more

By Ashlee Gadd @ashleegadd I cannot tell the origin story of LEGO City without first admitting that my husband was right.  Allow me to set the stage. The year is 2020. Five of us remain trapped at home: two working parents, two young children attending Zoom school, one toddler emptying the Tupperware drawers on repeat, and not enough noise-canceling headphones in the world to drown out the sound of everyone chewing.  Right around the time the walls start closing in and my patience begins hovering around a negative seventeen at all times, my husband and I decide to move all of the L ..read more

By Allison Mei-Li A crystal sun dangles from the rear view glinting gold, painting sparks of light that dance along my cheeks. Out the window, the blur of cars has always felt like a school of fish: all of us moving together, each of us the same. Today I only wonder if anyone else is driving with a hand over a soon-empty womb whispering “I love you” again and again, swirling joy and grief into one.   Guest poem written by Allison Mei-Li. Allison Mei-Li writes from Southern California, where she lives with her husband and son. When not chasing after her toddler, she works as a speech path ..read more

By Laura Leinbach @lauraleeme “Mommy, it’s broken,” my son, Logan, eyes glossy and voice trembling, holds out the brand-new Rubik’s Cube I gave him just a few minutes ago. Colors thoroughly intermingled, he passes me the cube and slumps down onto the couch. “What? No, it’s not broken; it’s just mixed up,” I say. “That’s the whole point. You mix it up and then the fun is solving it again.” He sits up and leans in closer. “But I can’t. Can you?” “I can totally do this,” I tell him. Just a few days ago, I saw a reel that promised solving a Rubik’s Cube isn’t as hard as it seems. In my placement ..read more

By Melanie Dale @melanierdale “Any changes in the breasts?” My oncologist asked the usual question at my recent check-up. “Um, I mean, they’re bigger?” I shrug, feigning embarrassment, although honestly, after years in the cancer world, there’s no longer any such thing. He meant pain or lumps, but my breasts are tumor-free and full of nontoxic boob meat. As far as I know, they are not currently trying to kill me. I’m also not currently trying to kill myself. Brave new world. A lifetime of eating disorder struggles came to a head after all the cancer stuff. Each surgery and treatment and new d ..read more

By Allie King @alliehking “You’re going to imagine you’re an invisible bystander watching a scene take place,” my therapist says. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and nod. I’m a year-and-a-half postpartum with our firstborn, and my therapist and I have spent the last few months untangling my undiagnosed postpartum mood disorder from my first year of motherhood. I tell her I can’t let go of my failures, all the times my own mind has kept me from being the mother I wanted to be. The scenes—hallmark moments that felt terrifying instead of blissful, simple tasks that took hours instead of minutes ..read more

By Kate Croft @pocketsfullofacorns My eyes settle on my eight-year-old daughter, perched on the edge of a gray plastic chair. She swings her sparkly denim shoes back and forth between the chair’s front legs, more concerned about the snacks we’ve packed than about what will unfold this morning. I scan the psychologist’s waiting room and swallow the lump in my throat. A row of identical plastic chairs lines a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. Dusty, white horizontal blinds obscure my view of a tired strip mall parking lot. The check-in desk supports a rack of sticky children’s books. A pock-mar ..read more