Before I dropped out of college I double-majored in physics and philosophy. I joked that I just flipped to the P section in the course catalog and picked the first two majors I found, but in reality I chose philosophy because I never knew what to do with life and I chose physics because it was the only subject I found challenging.
I was leaning over the bathroom sink, applying mascara when my three year-old daughter, Zoe, pulled a tube of eyebrow gel out of my makeup drawer and cooed, “Ooooooh Mommy, I just love this! When I grow big and have my own house, can I have this please?”
When I was baptized two years ago, the missionaries explained to me that there are no paid positions in the Mormon church, that all leadership roles are filled by volunteers who also work their regular full-time jobs. Having no previous experience with churches, I smiled and nodded Continue reading
I didn’t write anything political before the election. The Internet was already so saturated with with divisive opinions that it seemed fruitless. Perhaps I should have. I doubt I could have altered a single vote, but perhaps I needed to to speak anyway, just as I needed to blacken a circle on a ballot in a state where my vote doesn’t count. The post I would have written then (and did begin to write) is very different from what follows.
Our baby, Eve, is 8 weeks old today and our three-year-old, Zoe, has not said a single unkind thing to or about Eve in all that time. I had high hopes for Zoe’s relationship with her sister, but had not dared dream it could be this good.
I wasn’t planning on blogging a week after having my second child, but I feel compelled to write when I learn something and I feel compelled to learn something when I have kids — especially my pair of firecrackers. Learn or drown.
Zoe, bless your little heart for being our Guinea pig. You were the first newborn anything I ever held. Continue reading
I’ve lived most of my life with my options open, sampling from the tasting menu instead of picking a venue, sitting down, and completing a meal. I tried the whole carpe diem thing, richoceted between reckless impulses on the supposed road to happiness. Live for yourself, consequences be damned.
All of that experience left me with this unshakable testimony: living for yourself is way overrated.