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Daily Practices of a SAHM
- Clean one thing
- Do one thing to further the house improvement outside of cooking/cleaning
- Do one thing that makes me uncomfortable
- Check one thing off my to do list
- Get outside in any capacity
- Get baby outside in any capacity
- Move my body in any capacity
- Eat one vegetable, one protein, one fruit
- Express gratitude for one thing
- Connect with one human outside of my partner, baby and mother
- Do one thing to connect with my partner
- Do one thing to connect with myself spiritually
- Refrain from purchasing one thing I feel I need to buy today
- Learn one new thing
- Acknowledge one thought of self judgement. Let it melt away
- Take my medicine
- Enjoy unlimited time loving on baby
- Give baby to partner and do one thing by self
- Celebrate any and all of the above that I do each day
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monologue-ing
I’m rusty. I wonder if I have anything to say.
I do.
What do I have to say?
I’m not sure.
I long stretch, and peer over my shoulder—is it safe?
The fear is all-consuming.
How do I become less fearful? Practice. I feel very sure of that. Practice practice practice.
Show up. Look yourself in the eye. Don’t feel ashamed of yourself—maybe even feel a little proud of yourself.
Let the compassion flow through and from you.
Don’t fear rejection, it is a gift.
Get curious. With yourself, with your loved ones.
Embrace opportunity, even though it scares you.
Don’t let this season pass you by. Take your socks off and walk barefoot through the grass. Wash the pump parts and the tiny clothes over and over again.
Love your little family with a ferocity that scares you. Feel yourself quake with the intensity of your love.
Love your people outside of your home. Don’t let the fear of losing them keep you from feeling and sharing and embracing those relationships.
Be uncomfortable. Hold yourself accountable. Hold yourself gently.
I’m so grateful for this life.
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Note to self
Should should should should.
You should I should we should they should.
Just be. For the love of god, just be. -
It’s Not Too Late
And on the seventh day
She created.
Not without fear,
But also with trust
In herself
And her dreams,
And with bravery
In each keystroke -
Wrinkled Hands
Wrinkled hands
Grasping one another.
Knobby knuckles
Thin skin.
These hands
Have held each other
For decades.
This simple moment
Splits the sky
Shatters mountains
Is the key
To questions unanswered.
These old, fragile hands,
Attached to tired, sagging frames,
Have the tightest grip on earth.
Nothing can separate these hands.
Not time, or age,
Space, or event.
These hands,
Together
Are love.
The soul-shaking
Gut-wrenching
Universe-making kind.
These hands,
Together
Are forever. -
Time
When will I decide to have the courage to spend my time doing things I enjoy? She wonders, counting down the minutes to when she can clock out for the day
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Ordinary Moments
Rushed jam toast on the way out the door
The waltz of brake pedals and turn signals
Triplicate ECGs and securing warmed blankets under fragile chins
Programming “home” into the GPS
The tingle of bare skin under hot water- just one more minute
Cold toes squeezed between a warm leg and couch cushion
Unloading the dishwasher, so that it can be immediately reloaded
The familiar embrace of bedsheets and a worn pillow
Goodnight kiss, roll over, a soul-cleansing sigh
The peaceful weight of sleep
Life.
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Joy
I’ve never danced so much
in my life.
Let’s keep dancing
through this life
together.
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Insomniac’s Impass
Eyebrow twinge, pulsing temples,
Thirsty eyes. Cartwheeling mind.
Tired exterior, that’s busy inside.
I’m not sleepy, your brain croons.
Hours tick by, wide-eyed.
You’re at her mercy, after all.
And so you wait patiently
For heavy lids and wispy thoughts
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An Ode to KJH
Soft and dewy, glowy fresh.
Muted mauve, or bold excess.
Palettes powders, creams and sticks,
Brushes paint your canvas, bliss-
fully you play- create,
Again tomorrow, it’s a date
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January 6, 2021
Proud peach,
security breach.
They stormed the halls,
A coup it’s called.
Shocked and awed, albeit
history called it.
It’s Black and white,
in clear daylight.
Spineless creeps,
Impassioned speech.
Democracy endures, another day
When will we learn from our mistakes?
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Trophy Boy
Do you remember?
We sang Sweet Annie on the drive home,
Me at the wheel,
At the top of our lungs
we spun our love story,Wait, that was just me.
Do you remember?
I melted into your embrace
That cold lonely night, you wiped my tears
and walked the pavement by my side.Your electric smile
Split me in two
In the July turf heat.
God, it was good to see you.It wasn’t just me.
We danced on the line,
That boozy fall night.
You leaned in, twice
Then told me about her.Will you ever be mine? I call into the silence,
The silence answers, It’s just me.
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Whisper in the Darkness
I’m still here
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State of Affairs
Seasons change.
Leaves turn,
And fall
Congregating in crumpled piles that we traipse through abjectly.Coldness creeps in
Shrouded by the descending darkness.An icy breeze slithers past protective layers
Caressing my neck,
Chills erupting in its wake.Still.
Still?? I mutter angrily, condensation sneaking up my frames.
I hunker deeper into my fleece, despite increasingly limited vision,
And press forward into the raw darkness.Dawn has yet to break
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Weary
You sure you feel okay?
Yes, just the general tiredness of existence.
Weariness?
Yeah, weariness.
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Not Not Exercise
No expectations
No judgment
Just movement.
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Best Kept Secret
I have a secret, she whispers.
That fear
and joy, I feel it too
The rawness, the humanity
echos through my bones.
Remind me why it’s a secret? I whisper back
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Privilege Looks Like
I’m making a sneaky escape
out of quarantine
into this new, exciting role.
It feels wrong
to grip this opportunity in my clammy fingers
amidst the turmoil of the world.
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Take Up Space
You’ve been carrying this pain in the curve of your back
You say it’s fine and, in doing so, perpetuate an unhealthy standard
Relax. Sit up straight and proud. Stop twisting yourself into the tiniest corners of every room.
Take a seat at the table,
Speak up. Take up space,
it’s about time
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Don’t Rush
This day
This life
This chapter
This moment.
The pain the joy the sadness the pleasure
The struggle the celebration
Celebrate, let us celebrate.
Don’t rush