Tag: motherhood
-
The Language Before Language Before we knew lyrics, before we understood meaning, before we could even form memories that stick—there was sound. Not music in the polished, Spotify sense. Not something you’d queue up or analyze. Something softer. Closer. More instinct than performance. A hum. My family didn’t just sing—we hummed. And that matters. Humming…
-
Sea Life Aquarium in Kansas City, Missouri 2022—where the tanks were glowing, the jellyfish were vibing, and I…was basically this duck. Bright on the outside, blue on the inside, plopped on a metaphorical plank because Dave decided to blow me off that day. Nothing like ocean ambience and a rubber duck to really highlight the…
-
Some songs don’t explode.They echo. Some songs don’t tell you what happened—they let you feel what’s missing. Before we get into it, here’s how this post works. These lyrics are read without context—no backstory, no personal history, no explanation of who or what inspired them. Just the song as it exists on the page, the…
-
Some songs don’t ask for permission to exist.Some songs show up exhausted, overstimulated, and still expected to function. Before we get into it, here’s how this post works. These lyrics are read without context—no backstory, no personal history, no explanation of who or what inspired them. Just the song as it exists on the page,…
-
The Gap No One Sees There is a very specific kind of frustration that comes from being fully aware of what needs to be done and still not being able to initiate it. The list exists. It is clear. It is reasonable. Dishes need to be done. Laundry needs to be folded. Messages need responses.…
-
On Devotion, Identity, and the Radical Act of Still Being Yourself Motherhood has a strange way of flattening a woman into a single role. You become “Mom.” Not Nicki. Not the woman with opinions, hobbies, desires, stories, scars, playlists, sarcasm, and dreams. Just…Mom. The one who packs snacks, wipes tears, answers questions about dinosaurs at…
-
They say a father is a daughter’s first love. But really, he’s her first case study—her first example, her first unintentional teacher. Long before girls learn equations or phonics, they learn tone. They learn tension. They learn what affection looks like in practice, not theory. They learn how it feels to be prioritized—or quietly placed…
-
I didn’t cry when I saw the headline. I didn’t pause long enough to let it sink in, and I didn’t feel that sharp intake of breath that used to come with this kind of news. I registered what happened, clocked the location, skimmed the details, and kept scrolling like my brain had already decided…
-
A Reflection on Safety, Autonomy, and Mother’s Intuition I’m not homeschooling because I believe I’m some untapped academic prodigy who can outperform the entire public school system. I’m homeschooling because I refuse to gamble my daughters’ safety on the hope that everyone else in the building is paying attention. We like to pretend motherhood is…
-
A Love Letter to My Lingering Linguistic Trauma There are breakups you walk away from with a box of old hoodies, a regret or two, maybe a Spotify playlist you pretend you don’t miss…and then there are the ones that leave you flinching at random words like you’re being hunted by a rogue Scrabble tile.…