Yesterday, it would have been about work and how my stove caught fire in the morning, how I threw handful after handful of flour on the flames and when it finally went out, I had this mess of burned and caked flour everywhere. I'd have told you how I couldn’t leave the kids with that … Continue reading If We Could Talk, Part 2 →

I would tell you I looked at two apartments today, and both left me feeling like Goldilocks: one was too big (in price and space—the ceilings were loft-height, glorious Old Chicago 12-footers. In winter, I fear the heat would never reach me or my children in our beds. We'd swelter in summer. The place felt … Continue reading If We Could Talk →