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Mama. Writer. Wife.
Passionately engaged in loving life. And dreaming. And figuring shit out and cleaning messes and making lists to keep me sane. Oh, and cooking healthy food for pleasure and as a political act.

This blog started in 2003 which, I think, makes me one of the very first mommy bloggers out there.

My words died off a couple years ago as the kids got bigger and I had no idea what to write about anymore. All my favorite blogs were talking about black cohosh and co-sleeping and getting their sex life back. They were posting pictures of toddling babes and rad, sexy slings and the most adorable baby moccasins.

Me? All of a sudden I had gi-normous kids with lives of their own who needed privacy now that they could read what I was writing. About them. About my sex life. About motherhood and situations that might pop up around raising kids through adolescence and puberty.

Two years went by and then it hit me. I miss this space. I miss recording the moments that become a lifetime. I miss the roadmap of our lives marked with snapshots and funny words that I'd never remember any other way. I realized that I have to keep writing.

In a way, I'm the at the front of the pack. My kiddos were among the first generation to be (obsessively) stalked on the Interwebs since they were in utero. (Kinda creepy but hey, also kind of connecting and human and rad that we can do this.)

I finally realized that the reason I was alone and uncertain of my voice anymore, when my daughter is losing teeth and my son's voice is changing, is because very few other voices were out there alking about motherhood, outloud, on a blog, when the kids could accidentally read that shit and form opinions.

It's really different writing about kids who are their own humans with opinions (and vocabularies) to prove it, than it was to write about the sweet-smelling skull right under my nose and attached to my body most hours of the day.

But the years are tender. The boy, he is 13 now and the girl, she will be 8 next month. These reflections, slowing down to take time and take stock, these are all gifts.

On the cusp of a new paradigm, at the beginning of cultural shifts that include parenting the most recorded & chronicled generation of humans ever born, I'm going to make sense of it by writing my way through it. It's what I do. It's how I make sense of things, in words and images. I will continue collecting our story into some kind of meaningful narrative that captures our voice and our family and all the silliness and joy, the messes and the fights, so that it is here waiting for me on the other side of these days. Just as the early days came and went, these equally precious moments of their awkward phases and their heartbreaks, the connecting and disconnecting, the dance of parent and child, these days will shift again too. And the record of our moments will be a precious keepsake to treasure all of my days.