Pass the Sanity, Please!

For an entire week, my weather app promised destruction. Not just snow— Snowmageddon . We’re talking 17–21 inches  of the fluffy white stuff, topped with nearly an inch of ice for good measure. A real end-times forecast. Now, as someone with New Jersey roots, this sounded less like a crisis and more like a cozy winter wonderland. But I live in Virginia  now, and Virginia hears “snow” and responds by politely shutting down civilization for an undetermined amount of time. So na

Life is full. And by full , I mean bursting at the seams, overflowing, one minor inconvenience away from complete chaos. Four kids. After-school sports. Dance classes. Weekly physical therapy appointments for my five-year-old. A full-time job. A husband whose work hours laugh in the face of anything resembling a schedule. A house that somehow always needs one more thing  done. So naturally, I looked at my life and thought: You know what we have plenty of time for? An eight-we

I’ve been thinking a lot about something lately. Probably because I’m exhausted, overstimulated, and standing in my kitchen wondering how it’s already Friday when I swear it was just Monday five minutes ago. Last week, I wrote about turning forty and realizing I didn’t exactly land where I thought I would. Overweight. Overtired. Overstimulated. Slightly irritated by people who wake up early on purpose . I said I was trying to “get myself back,” and I meant it. But here’s the