Just Keep Breathing

Stacey Conner Loss

Your baby, that baby that you see right there with the beating heart and the perfect tiny hands and feet, is going to die and no amount of wishing me dead or mute or skipping your appointment or begging for a do-over is going to change that.  Off you go now, the dog needs to be let out.  There are dishes in the sink.  You can’t leave the kids with your friend forever.

Sweet Simplicity

Stacey Conner essays

Nothing worked and I am strict. I don’t bend to whining. Their stalling stretched longer and longer while my frustration reached chart-topping levels. I yelled.  I ignored them except to say “clean up and we’ll talk.” I threatened. I set timers. I set specific tasks. I rewarded quick clean up with TV (that worked for two days).  I suggested before each quiet time that they not dump out every single blessed toy in the basement.  Nothing worked.

These Small Moments

Stacey Conner essays

I love bed time for all the wrong reasons. Actually, one specific wrong reason: because it means in 45 minutes I will have three hours all to myself. A crackling fire, a glass of wine and the fourth book in the Game of Thrones series call my name plaintively from downstairs, forcing me to dig deep and breathe slowly through the last push.