Read with me.

I wanted a book club — just not one with homework. Assigned reading has never worked for me, and the moment reading feels like obligation, I shut down completely. What I’ve been craving instead is conversation: the laughter, the tears, the rage, and the joy that come from talking about books we actually want to read. So I decided to make the kind of book club I couldn’t find.

An honest reflection on loving a full, beautiful life while carrying its weight — motherhood, creativity, pain, joy, and the choice to stay present anyway.

I think people think I’m a terrible mother.

And I think people think I’m a wonderful mother.

Usually, it’s the kids who think I’m good at it—and the other moms who judge from the sidelines, assuming I’m too soft, too forgiving, too whatever doesn’t match their version of “good parenting.”

But they don’t see what actually happens in my home.