This is a little something I wrote while in the Dolomites this past July about leaning in to the soft parts of motherhood and relaxing about doing everything “right”.
I broke the rules today. I brought them into bed with me as the early morning mists rose up behind the pine trees. "He'll never nurse to sleep," yet I let him suckle there, his tiny fists burrowed into the coverlets. "No kids in bed," I said, but what can I do about the little arms reaching toward me in a silent plea? It's five a.m., and I may not know sleep, but I know the press of a newborn's head against my chin, and the gentle nuzzle of a toddler's cheek. "The years are short," my grandma always said; and perhaps it was her I was thinking about, sitting alone on the porch, telephone in hand as the lone tether to her own, when I brought my kids into bed and broke the rules, just this once, on a cold morning in the Dolomites.



This is tender and beautiful. Some rules were made to be broken.
Such a sweet reflection on the hidden parts of motherhood ❤️