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T mumbles quietly and quickly to the endless frustration of most adults. And I love it. Our conversations are an exercise in mental gymnastics and detective work that I find very enjoyable. I happen to be fluent in mumble. I’ve spoken it my entire life, and I pride myself on being able to understand kids … Continue reading The Face on the Space

The first time T lowered his chin, narrowed his eyes, clenched his fists, and called me a dirty, fucking cunt, I cried. I honestly didn’t know what else to do. Nothing could have prepared me for the string of profanities coming out of his mouth. Then he started punching himself in the face, and I … Continue reading A Girl-Cat Named Simon

I shifted in my chair, trying to figure out how to sink into yet another uncomfortable situation. I was on the sidelines of T’s first game, and I had no idea what it meant to be a soccer mom. For the past two years, I had been more of a sleep-in-on-Saturdays-and-then-consume-lots-of-bacon-and-coffee-in-our-pajamas kind of mom. Looking … Continue reading Participation Awards

I wrote this in August after I found out T was getting adopted, but before he had any clue what his new reality was going to be. That was a hard season for me for lots of reasons, but one of the biggest was that I’ve always tried to be honest with him. About everything. … Continue reading A Fire Shut Up In My Bones

I glance right, scanning the parking lot of the Used Car Motor Mall as I ease through the intersection. A red Honda Civic is sitting in the spot that has housed a yellow Corvette for the better part of the last month. About a block away I look for the hummer that recently showed up … Continue reading Five Points

The first spring I had T, I panicked. I wanted to foster a school-aged child because, as a single woman who works full time, I needed a kid who was occupied during the day. But with summer looming and school-free days quickly approaching—I wasn’t sure what to do. I searched for daycare providers and started … Continue reading Judy

I wrote a version of the following article for a magazine about two months after T came to live with me in 2016. I stumbled on it tonight and am shocked (and grateful?) for how naive and hopeful I sounded. I’ve been a foster parent for about ten seconds. But as a single woman turned … Continue reading A Different Kind of Free