Why be Pretty?

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I’ve battled pretty my entire life. I spent decades trying to be the word. Years trying to dissect the word. Now, after raising two young girls all I want to do is dismiss the word completely. It has stolen years of my life, more money than I ever want to think about, and lots and lots of joy. And why? 

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My firework baby

fireworks

Dear Evan, You were Almost my firework baby. One day late. The darkened streaks left smeared across the sky. The proof that something prodigious had just occurred. You were tiny and fierce. Full of surprises. You left everyone in awe. I was Captivated and devastated. The show was over. I was left to cleanup. But no longer alone. I held a tremendous force of

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Parenting: You’re Doing it Right.

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You thought I was going to say you’re doing it wrong, didn’t you? Because that is what we hear most often. I went to counseling today. Not for myself, but for one of my kids. I’ve never been to a counselor before but my kid is struggling with things that I cannot help her with. It didn’t feel like admitting defeat,

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If I could turn back time.

  The first career aspiration I can remember was that I wanted to be a rockstar. I was young and full of magic and hopefulness. Unfortunately I wasn’t full of talent or reality. My future came smashing to an end at the age of 8 when I heard a recording of myself singing for the first time. “That’s not me,” I claimed,

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The Story I’m Telling Myself

I’m not a writer, I’m a storyteller. I try to correct people if they call me the former. Writers are intentional and their work has a conclusion. Storytellers are reactional and their work is always in progress. Plus there is this thing called grammar which ruins writing for me every time. When I was young I used to tell myself

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