It’s all (mostly) okay.

Here’s what’s okay:

Asking your pal for help trimming up the back of your head/accidental between-haircuts mullet and listening to (and believing her) when she tells you that you looked gorgeous beforehand, anyway.

Having the kids fed, bathed, jammied, and reading in your bed at 5:45pm on a Tuesday (and maybe pretending it’s waaaay later in the evening than it really is) because P.J.’s on a work trip all week and come ON, what can even be done in Seattle that can’t be done in Chicago I CALL SHENANIGANS.


Voicing the fact that having and raising small kids is the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

Voicing the fact that having and raising small kids is the best thing you’ve ever done. (Take that, early twenties!)

Not jumping in on that Facebook/Twitter argument.

Deleting Facebook/Twitter from your phone for a little bit.

Fully acknowledging that the people spouting the most bonkers nonsense online are neither your nearest and dearest, nor are they any sort of bridge that you’ll grieve burning.


(This is also totally okay, too.)

Admitting that, in this (short) season of your life, the way you best volunteer/give back/support those you love the most is generally in a quieter, behind-the-scenes, handwritten notes kinda ways.

Being grateful for the various joys in your life which, come on, you can totally admit were sheer happenstance and byproducts of luck and a good dose of “right place at the right time.”

Taking a nap. Even if it’s only half an hour. (Even if it’s only half a minute.) Even if you have articles and laundry and a dead rat in the alley immediately touching your garage door.

(Ignoring the dead rat in the alley is okay for a bit, too.)



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