Today marks a decade that I’ve been a mom. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it — to come up with the just-right thing to say about the journey to this milestone momiversary . But it turns out the complex truth isn’t just in my head or heart. It’s singing in a silly voice at the breakfast table as we all beg for peace and quiet. It’s stealing second base as the crowd cheers in the stands. It’s analyzing social injustices in novels, as well as on the playground, trying to be a light when things get dark. The complex truth is Big. And I’m so grateful to have had known him, loved him, and learned from him for 10 whole years. So, of course, I wrote him a birthday letter… Dear Big, Every year on your birthday eve, you ask me what time you *actually* turn your new age. It’s a tangible something for you to hold on to from a day you won’t ever remember. One that, quite honestly, I had to look up to be sure about. Because for me, it was the intangibles from that day I won’t eve...
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