Why You Don’t Need Your Posts to Go Viral.



Girl, I know you. You blog and you send it out there and a little part of you wonders, “Does anybody really read this stuff?” And you carry on.

And another little teeny tiny part of you wishes for that one post. You know the one. The One That Goes Big.

It would be so cool. Your post, shared by hundreds. Dare I say, even thousands?

Wouldn’t that be so life-changing?

Maybe. But it’s not what you need. It’s not what any of us need. That’s the stuff that comes at you from Out There, and if I have learned anything in this game, it’s that what comes from Out There is so not in your control. The Out There stuff is nice and really exciting and so, sometimes, completely AWESOME, but really?

It’s not what you need. And oh, how we writers can be needy. Or maybe that’s just me. Is it just me? Here’s what I feel like I need, as a writer:

  1. For the words to come out of me. Daily.
  2. And for the words to make sense.
  3. And sometimes for the words to just hit it, just right, so I think to myself, “Well done, Dana.”
  4. To make sure what I write hums God’s melody.
  5. Bravery.
  6. Tough skin.
  7. Fifty-thousand dollars.

Ok, just kidding about the last part but you know.

Viral posts are exciting, but what I need, as a writer, is tenacity. And hope. And what I need is to realize that prolonged work over many days is what our lives are like. And what we need is the spirit and chutzpah to do just that.

These are my marching orders: Write my world down, share it, and hope it helps a little.

So, here is your work-order, writers: Send the words out and keep at it. Build your work, like a bridge, to other people. Bridges don’t construct themselves in a day. And they don’t really care about hashtags.

Viral posts are fun. But writing is more than just fun. At least it is for me. It’s life-giving and life-changing, and life-affirming. And boy is it ever worth it.

I also want to thank you, dear readers. I started this blog in August of 2013. That’s one thousand, eight-hundred, and seventy five-ish days of working on Momsie. And I am grateful to ALL of you for hearing my voice. And then sticking around. You are a blessing.




It is Well with the Momsie


Currently, I am sitting at the living room table surrounded by small piles of random pieces of paper that my darling and beloved husband likes to collect in the office. You see, I MOVED the pieces of paper, like a demented hamster doing spring cleaning, from the office TO the living room table, because I had “Tidy Office” on my to-do list and I can’t “Tidy Office” because it’s buried.

It’s hard. My life.

Darling and Beloved is such a little hoarding pain in my rear. I know, Darling and Beloved, that as soon as I actually toss that crumpled piece of paper with this on it:

My Biznatch ##349995


That’s right, folks. WORLD PEACE does have a password. And it’s in our office.  Also, its username is PROBABLYNOTTODAY. 


So, we are back from our family vacation in Maine. Remember Maine? There were goats there. And the ocean. I think there are actually more pictures but my Darling Beloved took them all and has not shared them with me. Perhaps he is hoarding them because he has issues. I don’t know. I did get a lot of pictures of goats, but here is one non-goat picture on my phone:35374516_10215621827395329_6886613994778394624_n.jpg


Ah Maine. I miss you.



So, now that we’re back in the land of Reality, I find myself wandering aimlessly from room to room, so overwhelmed with Things To Do that I pick up one trinket, wipe under it, put trinket back down, and then I go sit down. I think I am having what is called Post Vacation Meh.

This is also known as “PVM.” It’s diagnosable. Look it up (probably not, but maybe. And if it’s not IT SHOULD BE. LISTEN TO ME, MEDICAL COMMUNITY. HAVE YOU NO HEART?)

But, here’s the deal. It’s life. We do the cool things, and then in between them there is all this sort of normal or semi-boring things. And actually, most of those semi-boring things are pretty ok too.

But not cleaning the office. It’s not my happy place. Pray for me, folks. When you Darling Beloved views home decor as an impediment to his endless piles of small pieces of paper, it’s daunting.

Perhaps this ailment is also diagnosable.

Oh, I know. It’s called Marriage.

Ohhhhh, SNAP Momsie. Here, let me show you a picture of my Darling Beloved pretending he’s Clint Eastwood at the beach, to temper the snark.

He is cute, huh? But I will tell you it’s a good thing the blanket is there because HOLY WHITENESS. IT WAS BLINDING.


I have found the best way to deal with all this Meh? Just gratitude. Just simple, easy-peasy, out-loud saying of the gratitudes. When I am overwhelmed because little tufts of fur are swirling around the legs of the dining room table because we have ungrateful cats who are fluffy? I say, “Thank you, Lord, for the cats. And for the table, where we dine occasionally when we wanna be fancy. And that we are not starving and have to eat the cats.” That sort of thing.

It is a weird escalation, with the gratitudes, but you know? I let my brain go where it wants. It plays nicer that way.

If I’m feeling a bit stressed out by the condition of the office? I say, “Thank you Lord, that we have a designated place to pay bills and be all grownup, and that we have the money for those bills. For reals. And, yes, for Darling Beloved because he helps pay the bills and we aren’t starving and have to eat our cats.”

That sort of thing. It works. Perhaps you will minus the eating of beloved pets part. Your call.


And, another thing: I found this meme whilst looking for pictures of cats who are stressed out about their To-Do list (it’s a thing, people. With the internet, you can find anything). And to me? Really? REALLY? I’M THINKING THE LAST THING ON THE PLANET THAT WOULD MAKE ME HAPPY IS SITTING ON THE EDGE OF A FLIPPING CLIFF.

Perhaps that’s just me.




All Goat Yoga, All the Time.

I am back at my Kansas City coffeeshop, my little favorite happy place – Homer’s Coffee House.

It’s my home away from home. Only it’s three hours away. We are “almost” home from our family vacation, which means we are hanging with the grandparents in Overland Park for a few days.

means, I have escaped for a few precious hours to write and catchup with about fifty million emails.

I don’t even have time to be funny today, y’all. There is too much going on to be funny. THIS IS SERIOUS.

Ok, so in the past few days I have: travelled across the continent, swam in the ocean, took breezy pictures aboard a schooner and kinda felt all super modely, and then ALSO tried to keep up with marketing for the new book and I have a publicist and also the Today Show is coming.

I know, right. Like I said. THIS IS SERIOUS.

The Today Show thing is for Today.com and they are COMING TO MY HOUSE which, if you know me at all, means I am at Def Con Level 5 on the Holy Cow Is This Really Happening Let’s Panic at the Dana a Bit.

As for marketing, I keep getting really nice emails from my publicist. Ones like:

“So, are you back from vacation yet? Hope you are having fun. But also I need about four things from you, so could you, please, answer your emails?”

To which I respond, “Maine does not have wifi. I am so sorry.” And I write the stuff and send it back while I am on a plane wedged next to Red who likes to squirm so much in his chair it’s basically like sitting next to a bouncy castle with freckles.

But really people? All that is nice and dandy and exciting, but what I really want to tell you is this:


“Dana,” you say, “What, pray tell, is this thing called goat yoga?”

Well, let me tell you.

It’s yoga.

But with goats. 

Not with the goats doing the yoga, so much, but more like as an accoutrement. Like, you’re doing the yoga, but then a wee goat wanders by and nuzzles you WHILE YOU’RE DOING YOGA. IT’S A WONDERFUL WORLD.

So, while in Maine, my friend Bethany tells me on my first day there: “Say, would you like to go do goat yoga at Sunflower Farms Creamery with me? It’s tonight at 5:30, and there will be kittens too.”

And I started quivering.

I made my boys come too. They were a bit suspicious of all of this but there were goats and kittens! In a field! In Maine!

I tell you, people. It was magical. Otherwordly. There are more things in heaven and earth, Momsie, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

There were other things we did in Maine, yes. And I will post about them I promise because they were kinda cool. Maine has stuff. That’s true. But for now? I shall leave you with this. FYI: ALL PHOTOS WERE TAKEN BY THE LOVELY AND TALENTED BETHANY SMART.















Yes, I was teary. I don’t know what happened to me. It’s like those goats just came at me, and I just couldn’t handle it. The world was too gorgeous and soft and furry for me to handle. So I cried at goat yoga. No judgement.

I will never ever forget the running of the goats. Never.

Life is magical.


(Oh, and also? Small side note: Hope, the wonderful mistress of the goats, makes goat CHEESE and it’s so good. Like, it’s eat-it-with-a-spoon good. We put it on flatbread with carmelized onions and holy goats, it was ALSO magical. But not as magical as the yoga. If perhaps a goat had walked by with a tray of goat cheese and some crackers while I was doing downward dog in the field in Maine? That might have topped it. But then, also, that would have been weird. Reel it in, Momsie.)


(Go ahead, click it for a special goat surprise. 🙂




Top Ten New York Moments

Perhaps you are actually like me.

Perhaps… you’re noticing some changes on the Momsie… And you’re doing this:


Ok, take a breath (believe me, I am doing a lot of that too.) Let me catch you up:


But, a mess in a good way. A perfect way, if you will.

Also, I really cannot spell chihuahua. Silly dogs. They quiver every time someone misspells their breed.

So, last week I went to the Book Expo in New York City, and I did all the cool author-book-signy things.

Also, I wore heels for a bit longer than I should have. There should be a warning label on those things.

Anyhow, without any more babble, here is my Top Ten Moments from New York, because that’s New York for you, it’s a Top Ten Moments kinda town.


10. IMG_8287.JPG

As one who has not had white flour in about five months, I salute you, New York sesame bagel with lox, cream cheese, capers, and onions. You were worth it.

9. IMG_8183-2.JPG

Well hello there, Mr….Stephanopikoikis. Stephfanipkikolus? Your name is right up there with the chihuahua, and you are just about as cute. So… tiny and cute and news-y. I just wanna put you in my pocket.

That sounds weird but he is kinda cute, no?

(It’s Stephanopoulos. Thank you, google.)

8. IMG_5491.jpegIMG_5493.jpeg

People, just look at the lighting. It’s all… “She’s all glowy!”

Also, look at her HAIR (blowout prior to trip, thank you, Jessica. You are made me all Breck Girl and I kept tossing my hairs all over the place because that’s what you do when you are Brecky.)

Also, that’s Patrick, marketing guy, on my right. He kinda looks like he’s asleep but he was just checking his phone. Which is kinda the same thing.

7. IMG_8297.JPG

This kid’s wardrobe choice for Sunday church. Totally random, but it’s the whole combination here. The shorts. The bow tie. The smirk.

6. IMG_8276.JPG

I am not a selfie taker but New York had me at hello. I was just so happy I had to record it.

Plus, yes, I am letting the gray come in. I like it. Don’t message me.



This church was across the street from my hotel. My first night there I ended up walking around the block – and ended up in a completely different area, unintentionally. I used this church as a beacon, because my google maps did not like my hotel location. I find this symbolic because I am a writer and I like symbolism. Plus, it’s pretty.

In my wanderings, by the way, I turned a corner and myself on Broadway. Perhaps tiny jazz hands happened. Perhaps.

4. I saw Dakota Fanning. Boom.

3. IMG_8266.JPG

Ok, I walked and walked and walked. I spent a good few miles on the High Line – a really cool walking park that had been created out of old rail lines. So gorgeous. And I ended up here. And then… my phone died. So all I have is one blurry, foggy picture of Lady Liberty. She was beautiful and I never get tired of seeing her.

Here’s the High Line:IMG_8261.JPG

2. Ok, when I was on the plane to New York I got rather stressed out because I realized I had no cash, and I KNEW I wanted to tip my driver. And I knew also that I wouldn’t really be able to stop and get cash once in the airport, so, as travel does… I was getting all stressed out about this. And so, I stopped, took a breath, and prayed, “Lord, can you help me figure out how to get cash for my driver? Thank you.”

Then I looked around and decided I would read. And lo,there was a letter from my moms in my bag and I thought, “Oh! Her letters are like ten pages long, so I finally have the time!” And I opened it… and …..IMG_8137.JPG

Y’all. She put cash in the letter. That thing had been sitting in my bag for over two weeks. It was just enough for a nice tip.

God really loves to do cool stuff like that, I bet.


And finally….IMG_8170-2.JPG

  1. This church (blurry because we were hustling to get there) is where I went at SIX AM for a recovery meeting. And it was awesome. Also, it was a block away from Times Square. Because, that’s how a Momsie rolls.


I am just so grateful and excited about this whole thing. Blessed beyond measure.

It was perfect.

Enoughness. Part Two.

Ok, let’s see how quickly I can write this thing.

The list for this morning:

  1. I slept in my bed last night. By “my bed” I mean…. MY BED that I slept in as a wee young child up until I left for college. You know? It was pretty comfortable. That was the bed where I would lie and dream about my life…. you know…. the dreams where I become an alcoholic, then recover, then get to write two books about it? Those dreams.
  2. These conversations:


Screen Shot 2018-05-30 at 9.44.53 AM.png


I am pretty sure Brian KNEW that I didn’t mean “cat.” He is rather smart. And yes, I am not kidding about the feeding thing. In my “brian notes” it does NOT mention stopping to actually FEED MAH SWEET BAHBIES while I am gone, and Brian sees food as a willy-nilly experience punctuated pizza distributed at weird times… so. Let’s hope they’re alive when I return. But then… he just sent me a text promising that he would not forget to FEED THE PETS and I am really starting to question his parenting.

Also, feeding the pets is a no brainer. All Steve has to do is sit in front of his dish and look sad, and food will come. It’s impossible to avoid. He’s that good.

BTW – he is “working from home” while I am gone. This narrates to: “watching ESPN and typing once in a while” but no judgment. I write blog posts while binging on Project Runway, so yep.

3. Oh, I didn’t explain the “gone” thing? Well, here you go:

Screen Shot 2018-05-27 at 2.13.47 PM.png

4. This is where I am heading:



5. Also: I have really good hair today, so here’s hoping it holds on for tomorrow too. One never knows.

6. And this:IMG_8134-1.JPG

My pops drove me to the airport. Y’all, he was talking on the phone to his office, zipping in and out of traffic like the Boss of it All, and I only had to pray once for our souls at a rather dicey merging into traffic situation. The man is a BEAST, I tell you. A very sweet beast.

As we unloaded at the terminal, he told me, “Have fun. Try to be in the moment and actually enjoy it, you know? God is giving you all the gifts.” (I know, Dad, that’s not EXACTY what you said, but it’s close and I haven’t had enough coffee yet. #writerslicense).


I will. I will enjoy it. All of it. It’s such a crazy life.

Do you know why I get to do this? Because God is awesome. And I did what he asked, after a lot of whining and fighting and nutty behavior. I got sober.




See you in New York!!!



Enoughness, Part One.



I would be sipping a La Croix, of course.


I’m going to blame all of this on Harry and Meghan’s wedding.

And on Lifetime television, which is to blame for so many, many things.

Also, on my children because why not?

Perhaps the dog was involved too.

So, last night as I was sitting on the couch, trying to write an article about prayer and other highly spiritual matters, I flipped on the television (I know. It’s not the best practice to have the tellie on whilst trying to write but it was 8 pm and let’s face it, I wasn’t aiming for a Pulitzer at that point. I was hoping to stay awake and also somewhat intelligible, all at the same time. Thus: Project Runway! It keeps me awake because Heidi’s voice is just scratchy enough in the background to keep the synapses firing. I don’t really watch, folks. I just listen to them cattily eye each other’s work while I type away, until the runway show where they’ve created a wedding gown out of tinfoil and dog food (and yes that has actually happened on that show)

Oh wow. I just put a parenthesis inside a parenthesis without really realizing it. Perhaps I should get back on track. Not even gonna fix it though. I’m gonna own my nutball grammar. That’s how I roll.

Back to me and the couch and scrolling through Lifetime. There it was: that terribly accurate movie about Harry and Meghan. It was just sitting there, in my cue, with the actor/Harry looking all handsome and red-headed and British and royal but yet still rebellious AND sensitive all at ONCE. Yes, also, Meghan actress was great. But HARRY. That’s the stuff, right there. And so, I clicked on it.

But, as so often happens when I just watch something (I put the Pulitzer wanna-be article aside, folks. Harry/actor needed my undivided) I started to feel a bit… peckish.

Ok, that’s not really true. I had a great dinner. I was totally full, actually. But I just wanted to munch, you know?

And then… I ate our kitchen.

If I’d had the chance, and it wouldn’t have been weird, I woulda gone next door (but only during a commercial break!) and eaten their kitchen too.

I am not even going to trouble you with the details of what I inhaled, but let’s just say that Cool Ranch Doritos were involved and I actually don’t even LIKE Cool Ranch Doritos. In fact, I would say? Not much of anything that I scarfed down last night (during the commercial breaks! Of which there were a lot! Unfortunately!) was really all that yummy. I dunno. Is a half of a hamburger bun smeared with honey, yummy? It seemed kinda pathetic, my bun, and all it’s honey.

Backstory: Wayyyyyy back in November I told you about some changes I wanted to make for me. Issues with health and food and my ability to procrastinate so hard on some things that it could be my own Olympic event where I could win GOLD. Which, if you think about it, isn’t so bad… a gold medal and all. But I wouldn’t ever get around to actually winning it.

So, November, I started to do a few things, reallllllly slowly:

  1. I started a running program again. It had been sorta willy nilly until then and did you know? If you try to run three miles willy nilly your thighs say things like, “I don’t UNDERSTAND why you are DOING this to me! This is just mean! Let’s stop right now.”  Thighs that argue? Never good.
  2. I tried to understand that I am actually really and for once and for all a REAL WRITER. Did I mention that BOOK TWO IS COMING OUT? I know. It shocks me still.
  3. I tried to understand food.
  4. And me. Me + food.
  5. Y’all. It’s complicated.

What I’m trying to say here is that I had finally gotten to the point where I needed to address some stuff in my life. And life, as it tends to be, made this hard.

(My husband would like to insert here that it wasn’t “life” it was ME. I make things harder than I need them to be. He says this to me once in a while and I roll my eyes at him and flounce out of the room in a huff. I would like to establish again that it was LIFE that did this to me, and my tendency to overthink and mull and perhaps worry a bit too much had NOTHING to do with it. Flounce flounce flounce. )

The hard truth of it was this: I had gained a heck of a lot of weight and I’m short and I was feeling rather awful about it all – both physically and mentally. You know the feeling. When you avoid reflective surfaces and your pants start saying prayers before you tug them on, and walking the dog makes you question why you have a dog.

Pair all that with this whole public persona thing that goes along with being an author of now TWO books (coming out in August, I promise. I did not make this up). = negative self talk and some really bad choices involving fried chicken.

Y’all. I have issues.

I know this comes as life-shattering news to you.

I think it all sorta stems from the being an alcoholic thing, but I want to tread lightly there, because far too many people in recovery get sober and then think, “Well then! Let’s fix ALL the things!”

No. Nope. NOPETY-NOPE, sober people. Slow down. Getting sober is hard enough.

But, I have some years in recovery, now. And it was time. My heart was telling me. And if I had learned anything in recovery it’s that when your heart says things like, “Dana? You are making yourself sad. Let’s work on this,” I have to listen.

And now it’s May. Seven months later. And last night I ate New Jersey. What can I say? I TOLD YOU I WAS MESSED UP.

I have, also, lost quite a bit of weight since November. I have found muscles again. It has been a process.  A long one. It has involved not a diet or a plan or rice cakes or any of that. It’s involved me trying to figure out me, and that’s not been a heck of a lot harder than eating rice cakes.

Progress, not perfection folks.

I am going to write more about this. I need to. I might even tell you what I did and why and how and all that stuff (people always want to know the ins and outs, and I get that). I just wanted to talk about it what I’ve been figuring out.

It has to do with understanding Enoughness. And yes, that’s a made up word but it’s my blog.

So, this morning, as I am sipping my coffee and contemplating a run with thighs that don’t argue back so much as they did in November, I thought I’d tell you one part of the journey that has finally, FINALLY  made sense to me. And it’s this:

When you eat New Jersey, you don’t have to eat the entire eastern seaboard too.

And you can forgive yourself.

And also? It’s a metaphorical New Jersey, so there’s thank God for that.



Oh and also? I’m just gonna leave this right here:


IMG_7915 2










I will now start referring to myself as, Her Royal Highness, the Duchess of Momsie.

Has a ring to it, no?

Flounce, flounce, flounce

Mother’s Day and Momsie

Here is a post about Mother’s Day because:

  1. I am a mother.
  2. There is a Day that we get.

Before I go on, let me just say that I never really thought much of Mother’s Day until I finally had my own wee babies bust of my own body parts. I know. I’m sorry, Mom. Because once I had my own spawn? Oh my goodness, y’all. It was like Mother’s Day came up and smacked me upside the head then and said, “YOU ARE TIRED. THIS DAY IS GOING TO BE A CELEBRATION OF HOW REALLY REALLY TIRED YOU ARE. SO, TAKE ADVANTAGE, WOMAN.”

By the way, the committee who decided all the rules with Mother’s Day? I am thinking they’re not mothers. First of all, they decided it was going to be on a Sunday. Nope. Sunday mornings at our house? Full on nutball. Even more so than a school morning, because on Sundays we have to BE somewhere by 8 am because our church likes to worship our Lord and Savior when roosters are crowing, evidently. AND – not only do we HAVE to BE there while the sun is coming up, we also have to be FULL ON TALKY-TALKY AND SMILEY AND CHURCHY.

AND. We have to be dressed up. 

And act like this is all totally natural. 

Also, Mother’s Day is in MAY. Really? MAY? May is the month where the calendar just flops over on its side and starts groaning. May is the month of Let’s Do Everything.

May is a firing squad with a day-planner, ya’ll. 

Why can’t Mother’s Day be on a Saturday in… say, February? It’s cold. Rainy. I could take a nap that completes me.


Here was my Mother’s Day:

  1. Blonde’s card. The snark is strong with that one.


2. Red’s card. img_8057.jpg

Two things: I have not ridden a bike since Red fell off his bike and we ended up in the ER due to the horrible injury involving THE SEAT OF HIS BIKE JUST LET YOUR IMAGINATION FILL IN THE HOLES ON THAT ONE.

Also, totes correct on the sleeping thing.

3. I keep finding pictures like this on my phone:


Note the slightly-crazed expression. That’s what I’m working with here, people.


4. Here is this total moment of hotness:IMG_8038.jpgNo… I am not his mother. That would be so weird. But he is somewhat responsible for the other two spawn and so, yea.

Plus he’s Hotter Mchotterson in those bike pants. You’re welcome for the eye candy, ladeeeeeez.

5. Also because Hotter Mchotteson is wonderful, he bought me a Ninja blender. This thing is awesome, y’all. I make my smoothies in it. In seconds.  I can make homemade whipped cream (something I never knew I needed in my life quite so much as now) in seconds. I blend soups! I make lattes! I blend up ice because I just CAN! IN SECONDS! It cleans my floors! It tells me I have good hair!

Sorry. Perhaps the Ninja cannot actually talk to me, but it seriously rocks my world.  And, because my last blender was THIS:


Yes. It’s filthy. And it’s circa 1897.

Let’s all just have a moment of silence, shall we, for Really Old Grungy Blender Ok? Let’s grasp hands and say a prayer:


6. And finally, there was THIS:IMG_8062.jpg

No, not the value pack of Lysol Wipes. Those are just always sitting around in our house because I have boys with little or no concept of aim.

Yes, this is a box.

It’s been sitting on my dining room table, along with All the Clutter of the World  for about three days. I tend to ignore my dining room table, as the clutter sloooooowly starts to mingle, maybe start dating, and then starts to procreate all over the place until I lose it and start throwing stuff away whilst muttering under my breath about the bad choices that my Clutter has made.

Anyhow, this was a present, for ME that I completely ignored because Clutter, AND I thought it was for my children. And, since they get all the presents all the time, I just kinda plopped it there, for a rainy day, when they deserve a present.

My sister finally texted me to inform me that the box was for ME and to OPEN it for Pete’s sake.

And so, I did and voila!


My sister totally gets me.  A jadeite butter dish! Cute!! A cute little measuring tape thing. So cute!! A game that I can play with my children! In a cute little whale bag!! CUTE!

Annnnnnd: IMG_8068.png

As God is my witness, I thought it was drugs.

I know. Pretty much sums up my complete inability to process things correctly and also I am a horrible person.

It’s NOT drugs. It’s Zinnia seeds from her garden that are huge and gorgeous and MY GOSH WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME DRUGS? YOU ARE SICK. SICK, MOMSIE.

Ok, I didn’t really think it was drugs. But maybe, yes, just for a minute. Maybe.

7. I can’t end on the drugs thing. So, if I haven’t lost your readership at this point, here is also this:


Red drew our cats on the wrapping paper for one of my gifts. Vader and Steve. Pretty accurate, actually. One is round. The other, pointy.

And poor Bob. Always off in the corner and misspelled.

And here is this:IMG_8066.jpg

Steve got a nap in. I walked by, took this picture, and told him, “You go, you big fat furry. You TAKE that nap. And take one for me, too, today, ok?”

He didn’t answer, just kept on sleeping. Shocking.


And that was my Mother’s Day.

Oh, and here’s what else happened:

  1. 27 hugs.
  2. fourteen kisses (more or less)
  3. A whole bunch of “I love you’s”
  4. My Red coming in to the bedroom, all tossled with sleep, saying, “Happy Mother’s Day, mommah. You are the best mother in the whole world.”
  5. My husband telling me he is proud of me. And that I’m hot.
  6. My sweet Blonde trying to cuddle with me on the couch, all arms and legs and growing boy.
  7. Hosmer swearing his undying love to me. Again.
  8. I didn’t drink because I’m a sober mom and a walking miracle all at the same time.
  9. God saying, “You are a mom, and you are Dana, and you are blessed, and you are MINE.

God bless you, mommahs. In truth? Every day is Mother’s Day. It’s a privilege.