It was a misty, dreary morning. There was something off about the day. The cook had called in sick at the last moment. I had an article submission deadline to meet. And then my periods arrived just in time, as if to fan the flames. As I tried to gather the scattered ‘me’, my few months short 5-year-old spilled a bottle of juice on the floor, inadvertently of course.
Continue reading My daughter knows I am not a superwoman and that makes me a better parent