Homemaking Is Not the Most Important Part of My Identity

My mom is in town this week, which hopefully explains the silence of this blog. She lives in Zambia, and I see her about twice a year, so I try to soak up the time while she’s here. She’s been tagging along with me to work (she watched me teach a 3-hour humanities class), to run errands (she watched me do my happy “under budget grocery trip” dance), and tending my little apartment.

She’s also been cleaning. A lot. Because she is the most organized person I know, and I’m the least organized person she knows. Yesterday, she took a look at my bookshelves — piled to the brim with the disheveled reading material -and shook her head. “These need to be organized.”

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Be Kind To Yourself

It’s harder than the culture’s notion that we are perfect and more complex than the inner voice that screams that we are worthless worms in every way. Be kind to yourself.