These days, Nashville feels just a tiny bit too big for its britches.
Every so often, I realize that I am spending most of my downtime scrolling and scrolling and scrolling through Facebook. There is nothing interesting to see. Someone from AmericanPatriot.com thinks Bernie Sanders is the worst. Someone else from OccupyDemocrats.com has made another Donald Trump comparison to Hitler. It's boring.
Having a kid is so weird. On one hand, Charlie is 7+ months old and I really don't know anything about him. He spends lots of time babbling and chewing on things, and it's hard to tell at this point if he's gearing up to be a genius, or a psychopath, or a compassionate person.
I used to want a high-profile writing career that I could brag about. Now I'm just trying to do this thing--and everything else in my life--with a little dignity.
I did not expect to be this kind of mom.
I expected to be a mom who breathed a sigh of relief every night after putting a baby to bed. Not the kind who sneaks in his room to watch him sleep every time my husband goes outside or takes a shower.
A few years ago, I had the word rebirth tattooed a few inches below my left armpit. I had been writing that word out in cursive in so many places for so many years, that I had been long searching for a rebirth before I ever figured out that I really needed one.