You might be a boy mom if your bathroom smells like a subway elevator in July. On subway elevators in July: I once took four boys through the subway systems of Boston after a grueling day of doctor’s appointments for Jack. We finished a long day of hospital doings then walked several blocks up Longwood Avenue. The subway doors had a habit of closing as I wrestled a stroller with an angry toddler up and into the train while the…
I like to wear jeans with holes in the knees to church. I also like to slip my sandals off,…
One more circle to close. Before I loved The Bearded Wonder, there was a prophecy. A good man told The…
Last week, I wrote about God the Author; the one who pens the story of your life and the massive,…
When I began homeschooling my boys, I was too confoundedly independent to join a charter school but too untested to…
We are home again. After five years of fighting for the life of our little boy, we are home and…
I haven’t written in a while. I’ve begun a number of posts, but they’ve all felt so forced. The truth…
I am good at self-denial. If there is a book out there pro-porting to solve all of my life’s woes…
I tossed and turned last night with fitful sleep. Nightmares made me squirm and nearly cry out for the first…
New England used to seem to me to be some sort of romantic place that only really existed in lovely…
