you sleep, I sleep, we co-sleep.

at what point do the habits we create in order to survive our situation, become the very behaviors that keep us tripping over our own feet? and what happens when we see our little ones following in those same patterns? when I was about 12, I convinced myself for a whole summer that I couldn’t…

hand me another lemon.

hey life, hand me another lemon. I dare you. I’m not really sure if I’m being prepared for the life of an expert lemonade maker or if the universe is so full of sour that we all have to take on this much. but what I want to dive right into this week is how…

mama, do my thighs touch?

the first time I questioned the validity of my body, of the space it took up, I was in middle school. a boy told my best friend that she had nice legs. he said not a word to me. I sat back down at my desk watching the way my pale skin spread and covered…