It is school night and all the kids are asleep by 8:00. This has put me in the unique position of being able to wholeheartedly commit to doing one of two things: Work, or binge on Netflix.

Have you seen this video? I’ll pause while you watch it. If that doesn’t make you lose control of your already-wrecked Mom Bladder, then we can’t be friends. Or, we can, but I will still demand you watch it and at least pretend to laugh because seriously I die a little more every time I do.

Nowadays, “hero” conjures to mind another life-giving (and taking-away force, if you’re really acting like an asshole)–moms.

It’s no secret that the Bigness of Motherhood is something I ponder. Like, a lot. Like most new-ish moms, motherhood has thrown me for a loop in both the best and the hardest ways.

This was the scene last week in the foyer of our house, as my five and three-year-old ripped and roared through the hallways as I held the baby in the other room, enjoying some much-needed time with a friend, oblivious to the mess as I caught up with a friend.

Has any child in the history of children ever napped when she was supposed to?

I don’t know what it is, but I literally cannot walk past a piece of clothing that includes blue stripes on white fabric. Just can’t.

During a night out, as a group of friends and I shuttled from restaurant to a bar, one woman asked what one makeup item we would choose if allowed just one (I Present to You, Chapter One of Deep Thoughts with Sonni and Her Friends)…

Even five years later, I still remember the moment very distinctly. In his dark room, I nursed my two-week-old son. We glided back and forth on his chair, all alone, it felt, in more ways than one.

Guys. What’s uuuuup! I know, I know… I’ve been MIA on this blog for about three days in a row now, which is–shockingly–the longest I’ve gone since starting it up over a year ago.