Why don’t I go ahead and tell you a little bit about myself.

In no particular order, knowing that the importance of these things changes daily in response to a myriad of influences, I am a woman in my mid-thirties that is a: mother, wife, daughter, friend, laugher, thinker, dreamer, phd student, researcher, activist, social worker, walker, talker, organizer, planner, crier, hoper, writer, reader and all around liver of life. I am NEVER a cooker or a baker because I hate touching raw food and ingredients, but I am an avid eater. I am not much of a cleaner, either, but I am a profuse thanker when such things are done for me. I used to be a vegan and then a vegetarian and now I eat chicken and fish. I am sorry, chicken and fishes of the world. I will do my best to not eat you again in the future. I’m what you would call “very progressive” in my political leanings and social philosophies.

Penguin is 5 years old and Owl is 2 years old. These children were hard won, having navigated their way into my world past a series of unexplainable pregnancy losses. They ushered in a beautiful new life for me, but brought postpartum mood disorders along for the ride. Motherhood – for me – is at once the most awesome and the most terrifying thing I have ever done. I love the boys in the way I love breathing: it keeps me alive, vital and glowing from within. And then some days are so comically horrible that I wonder what the hell I got myself into. So on those days, maybe like breathing in stale, dusty air. Or a fart.

Papa Bird is my – well – the other half of my heart. My heart in a complementary vessel, if you will.


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