The Lost Babies

Henry: “How old would the other children be if they were born?” Me: “I think 14, 13, 10, and 8.” Henry: “I would’ve liked the 8-year-old. We would have been buds.” I don’t know if it’s strange or awesome or awkward that all three of my kids know about our multiple miscarriages. We don’t talk … More The Lost Babies

Anything Can Happen

A couple of nights ago, my middle son came back out after being put to bed. This draws out the deepest rage from the most irrational corner of my any-spare-adult-moment mindset. “What’s the problem, Elvis?” Elvis is our brooder. Like me, it takes him long moments to formulate what it is he desperately needs to say, … More Anything Can Happen

April Showers

It is the end of National Poetry Month today, and while I wrote not a single poem for the month, I have been busy chiseling away at my memoir-in-essays, which has its own sort of lyricism and poetic turns, and that totally counts, right? I have done much to celebrate poetry in April, however, giving … More April Showers

Bad People Go to Hell and Other Parental Panic Moments

My lovely blue-eyed seven-year-old daughter giggled. “Bad people go to the devil when they die,” and my charming bow-tie and button-down-shirt wearing son giggled, too, “Yeah, but we’re going to heaven because of JESUS.” I stuttered and stammered, “Well, it’s true that Jesus saves us,” I said, “but I’m not sure about the devil. It’d … More Bad People Go to Hell and Other Parental Panic Moments