Forgot your password?

We just sent you an email, containing instructions for how to reset your password.

Sign in

  • This morning

    While I was sitting here drinking coffee

    In the silent stillness and stifling solitude

    Of my writing space

    My mind drifted lazily

    Back

    To when I was a young woman

    And my two oldest kids were still my kids

    The time of two cats in the yard

    Where everything was loud and noisy

    Gritty and grating at times.



    I was obsessed

    With cleaning up my messy life

    Which was actually

    A deliciously divine messy life

    But I didn’t know it at the time.



    You see

    Back then I believed

    My messy life wasn’t good

    And certainly not

    Interesting

    Beautiful

    Virtuous

    Or worthy.



    It didn’t fit

    Into the glossy pages

    Of a coffee-table magazine

    I would never ever be

    Wife or mother of the year

    But oh how I longed

    For that impossible

    That implausible

    That unattainable

    Distinction.



    I thought

    So foolishly

    It’s laughable now

    That this messiness was a problem

    This glorious domestic chaos

    And magnificent uproarious thunder

    Racket and tumult

    This callow tender tackiness

    Of everyday life

    Was something to be fixed.
    • Share

    Connected stories:

About

Collections let you gather your favorite stories into shareable groups.

To collect stories, please become a Citizen.

    Copy and paste this embed code into your web page:

    px wide
    px tall
    Send this story to a friend:
    Would you like to send another?

      To retell stories, please .

        Sprouting stories lets you respond with a story of your own — like telling stories ’round a campfire.

        To sprout stories, please .

            Better browser, please.

            To view Cowbird, please use the latest version of Chrome, Safari, Firefox, Opera, or Internet Explorer.