A little less than a month ago, my daughter texted me from school. This happens on an almost daily basis, so I didn't think anything of it. But the content made me raise my eyebrows a little. Hey Mom, Sami is coming over after school. We need to talk to you about something. You're going to be mad.
Well, that's interesting. I am? I asked.
Yes. You're going to yell at me.
My curiosity piqued, I spent the next hour pondering what she might be needing to tell me: that she crashed the car; she wanted to drop out of school to join the circus; she needed to know how to get blood out of clothing and couldn't tell me why... Then my phone notified me of another text.
Mom, I'm going to tell you now, because I can't do this in person. I'm pregnant.
Pulling out of the driveway, I took a deep breath and tried to swallow the anger. It wasn’t working. I could feel it shooting out of my fingertips, scorching the steering wheel. Why can I never get ten minutes to myself? Why does something always come up and get in the way? Why do my kids always need me RIGHT NOW as soon as I pick up a book? Why does someone in my family invariably NEED to talk to me as soon as I hit play on my podcast?
Hi there, I'm Amy. I'm so glad you're here. I'm a writer, photographer, mom, wife, and highly sensitive introvert, just trying my best to show up fully for myself, my family, and my life. It all gets a little crazy sometimes, and it helps to have a place to connect honestly about what's really going on. This is my place.