Author: Mary Katherine
Every day I’m a mother, a little piece of me dies.
When Ben is in his highchair and I’m cleaning the floors and dishes. And his arm magically transforms into a windshield wiper against the high chair tray. Waffle and oranges fly across the room. Rising up inside of me is a piece of my heart that is angry and impatient. And then I catch my son’s eyes–bright and bubbling with laughter–and that angry little piece of me dies.
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