Parenting is hard. I mean, right? It’s hard, so hard. All I wanted today was mass. To rest my soul in community. Levi woke up ready for war, and naturally, could sense how much I needed him to not be freaking out, which led to a much larger freak out kind of day. I’m just one. The woman in front of me alone with three boys. She’s back and forth with the littlest, holding the middle, up again after the youngest. And she’s in heels. Heels! And I’m just one. There’s the preg

I was reflecting today on my absence from writing. Now that the storm of new motherhood has passed, and I’ve moved into, well, just motherhood, it all seems a bit more bleak. Nothing too noteworthy, nothing spectacular. The truth is ever since I moved home from Haiti, almost five years ago, I haven’t caught my footing. I’m still reaching, grasping, holding my breath, on what my life is going to be. Only recently did I begin to process that this is my life. This, right h