Blue Suede Shoes

Has anyone escaped heartbreak lately?

It’s been the unwanted dinner, breakfast, and lunch guest,

even staying for a midnight snack.

It’s crept into happy hour 

to turn the corners of our mouths down,

and cheerlead our tears to victory on the ride home.

Some days I wonder if we are all in a dream.

Lucid and confused, we pace

back and forth from gym to work to home.

Each tragic new story,

an obsessed stalker following us,

through algorithms and album covers,

from memes to museums.

Heartbreak used to be fewer and farther between.

Before talk of dictatorship and genocide,

we chanted yes we can

and believed that humanity

just might be heading in the right direction.

We disagreed without pistols.

Finger guns reserved for cheesy jokes.

And Mother Earth smiled at us sweetly from her sweaty hospital bed

as we promised to do better,

Dreaming up inventions to cool her. 

We even swore that love had no bounds or genders,

and I do’s were said under technicolor rainbows.

As the Earth pirouettes one more time around the sun,

can we slip out of our combat boots,

back into our blue suede shoes,

grasp each other’s hands,

and dance for a while

to the song of one million tiny sewing machines

stitching our hearts back together?

Inside Joke

Time feels like an inside joke

And I’ve been left out.

Snickering behind my back

I feel like a fool. 

You crawl

when I beg you to sprint.

You race

when I’m out of breath,

dying to pin you down.

Let me claw my way back

to my son’s not yet jaded eyes 

staring up at me,

milk dripping down his chin.

To my daughter, marveling

at the snail’s shiny trail

on the pavement.

Transport me to the simple moments.

How I wish

I could skip the pain

of watching my dad’s hair disappear,

and my husband’s patience wear thin?

The hourglass: a trickster.

This moment the sand,

slipping through, impossible to grasp.

And as soon as it’s gone,

I’m desperate for it back.

The way you twist my reality,

makes me question

how long it’s been

since I last felt

the electricity of hungry touch.

And how long it will be

Until I miss

this precise moment.

A love letter to mothers

A love letter to Mothers

Darling, you are the eighth wonder of the world. What you’ve accomplished in your lifetime is magnificent. The tiny moments no one sees, where you smile, straighten your back a bit and think “I can’t believe I just did that” are monuments to your legacy. Your children can’t imagine a life without your snuggles and wise words.Your company can’t imagine a day without your brilliant ideas and efforts to move mountains. You, quite frankly, are a marvel. 

I woke up this morning thinking about the role you play, and it occurred to me that mothers are the root system that holds it all together. At home, you're Chief of Doing Everything No One Else Does and even when it sucks, you’d do it a million times again if it meant staring into your little one’s eyes as you kiss them goodnight and hear, “I love you mommy” followed by their sweet (or stinky depending on the pubescent stage) head nuzzling into your chest. I know how it feels to wonder if your heart could actually explode with love, and that love is the lifeblood of the world.

I take a wild guess and say you’re probably “mom” at work too. You feel responsible to help more than you’re expected, and you care deeply about the people you interact with. You want to see everyone succeed, and you go the extra mile to make sure everyone’s life around you is a little easier. You wash the coffee cups in the sink. You spend extra time with the new hire to make sure they feel confident in their first big moment. You say yes, when every bone in your body is begging you to shut your laptop. 

Did you know that working mothers today spend more time with their children than non-working mothers in the 70’s and 80’s? So if it feels like it’s getting harder, it is. And if you feel like you’re thanked less, it’s true. Expectations are so heavy, and non-stop, you’ve learned to channel Hercules to simply make it through the day. 

My gift to you, fierce one, is a recipe to nourish the roots you so lovingly provide to keep your world turning. I want you to bathe your nervous system in love. This Mother’s Day, sprinkle a bit of each into your day, and perhaps, carry one or two of these ingredients with you into your daily life. 

Dance. Pop into spotify, search Millennial Moms Dance Party, and see what your body wants to do. Turn it up loud. I promise you, sitting still won’t be an option. Shimmy your shoulders. Hop around. Drop it like it’s hot if your knees still let you even if it looks ridiculous. Especially if it looks ridiculous. Close your eyes and let the music move you. Hoot and yelp and cat call and sigh. And when you’re out of breath, put your hands on your heart and feel it beating with joy. 

Connect your body to the earth. Go outside barefoot. Let the bare soles of your feet absorb the magic of mama earth. Wiggle your toes in the grass or sand or dirt. Hell, lay down and starfish on the ground, and soak in some vitamin D. Don’t stress about sunscreen for one moment, and just enjoy the warmth of the sun on your shoulders. Relax, and forget that time exists.

Spend time with art that moves you. It could be a painting you’ve always loved (just google it if you need to), or a poem that gives you goosebumps. Maybe a song you close your eyes and steep in. Experience the beauty of each word, brush stroke, or note. Let the art grab ahold of your senses, and force you into the present moment. Every artist has the gift of alchemizing pain, pleasure, happiness, or suffering, and concocting something breathtaking for us to marvel at. Give yourself the gift of awe. 

And lastly.

Hug. Truly embrace as many people as you can. Hold your kiddos a little tighter. Let your arms linger a little longer around a friend. If you have a partner, a lover, a sidekick, hold them until it’s awkward. See if you can feel the other’s heartbeat through your shirts and skin. 

Sweet one, I’m holding up this mirror. Look at you. How remarkable, how kind, how unstoppable. You are the root system. You are the reason this world, that feels so heavy and hard most days, is worth the weight. 

Been Here A While

I watched each wrinkle crawl between my eyebrows

like the roots of a baby vine,

starting to sprawl and stretch its limbs

across my face and down my throat

to make sure the world knows

I’ve been here a while.

I’ve noticed the bags under my eyes

outstay their welcome,

like an annoying house guest

who can’t take a hint.

For eons and seasons

between nursings and meetings and date nights

I’ve creamed and iced and cucumbered,

coaxing them to take a hike.

They chuckle with their dark circled smile,

knowing they’re here to stay.

What if I embraced the regal crone,

long silver strands framing

my sun-spotted, laugh-lined face,

knowing I’m not here

to prove a damn thing

to the world.

Proud I’ve earned

each sign of age,

etched by moments where nothing mattered

but the sun on my shoulders,

a friend’s chuckle echoing mine,

and the beat of the music

painting a smile on my face

so wide it invited the crinkles

to take up permanent residence

around my eyes.

Red

One step,

then another.

Beauty above—

a temptress.

Earth below—

unyielding.

Hurdle after hurdle,

I whiplash

between pleasure and pain,

a beautiful metaphor

for the way we live.

Rings of red

wrap around my feet,

a vortex of past dreams

spiraling around the woman I’ve become—

the one who realized some,

failed at others,

and still climbs the rocks

toward the best ones

yet to come.

What got me here

Standing in the foyer of 2026, I got to thinking… what got me to this exact place? In true “work-mode me” fashion, I documented with bullet points. (I know y’all appreciate them in our teeny attention span reality)

• Laughing. (especially at myself)

• Hustling.

• Relentlessly showing up.

• Saying yes before I knew how (I have played expert when I was a novice more times than I can count).

• Networking until my cheeks hurt. I am ALWAYS in the room.

• Attracting incredible humans to build beside me.

• Connecting people with no expectation of a favor in return.

• Doing.

• Doing more.

• Learning how to juggle a thousand pieces of the business and not completely lose my mind.

• Believing deeply that I could make a real impact.

• Meeting the people who showed me I was making that real impact.

• Helping people.

• Helping people more.

• Always helping people.

Even when I didn’t know how to help myself.

And oh yeah….motherhood.

Motherhood cracked me open.

It taught me grit, with no sleep and no ops manual.

It made me a master problem solver with no experience, just gut instinct, love, and a deadline called “now… or the tantrum starts in the middle of aisle 6 at CVS.”

It softened me in the best ways, and has made my heart ache in ways I’d never experienced before.

And it showed me that my inner circle ( my family, my ride-or-dies, my team, the neighbors I couldn’t live without) deserves to be treated like gold, because they are. How the hell else can we all get through this insane ride of life? We need each other. And in that need is beauty, humility, and lots of fun.

So, that’s what got me here.

And now, I’m curious what gets me to the next version of me.

The next version of me that takes all the lessons, leads with confidence, tries softer (as Andrea Gibson would say), writes a hell of a lot more, and laughs. Then laughs some more.

Warp Speed✨

Where did the giant gaps

in your tiny teeth go?

They’ve been replaced

by a smile

that could stop traffic.

Where did your pint-sized leggings

and munchkin giggles disappear to?

Now I just see sports bras

and mini skirts

strewn across your floor.

Handmade popsicle frames and handprint turkeys

Are nowhere to be found.

Just algebra homework and an ipad

Open to your latest essay on the constitutional congress.

Remember when I read to you each night?

Your head on my chest,

lost in the magic of the story I’d recite.

Today I find you buried under stacks

of young adult fantasy,

side-eyeing me

when I say lights out.

Five years from now,

what will I find?

Your middle school glasses

in your nightstand drawer,

a bookmark under your desk,

your tank top at the bottom of my laundry pile—

reminding me

your eyes are at my level now,

and your shoulders

stronger than mine.

Phone/Soul Tug-of-War

There’s this thing I keep doing. I’m half working, then notice my son is on his ipad playing roblox. It’s usually a brutal reminder that I, myself, am staring at my own screen and ignoring him. I tell him - OFF! Screen time DONE! Then, I remind my daughter why staring at herself on Snapchat is distorting the way she sees herself. I say it with conviction, sometimes even a little flair, like I’ve just delivered a TED Talk on childhood brain development. Then I scroll my inbox for the eighth time that hour. Or reply to a Slack message that probably could have waited. Or check to see if a reel we posted got traction.

The irony isn’t lost on me

Leading a company demands constant attention. Parenting demands presence. And both seem to be in a turf war with my phone. That buzzing rectangle is where business lives. But it’s also where my attention goes to die.

I want my kids to see me look up more. I want them to know how to communicate with words out loud, not just over test threads or snapchat emojis. And I want to feel the space between tasks. I want to remember what I used to do before every empty moment was filled with tapping and swiping.

So lately I’ve been trying. Not perfectly, (AT ALL) but on purpose.

My first step was turning off notifications. I started with social, moved to email, and though I haven’t been able to switch off slack, I’m hopeful that someday I can. The rule right now is no devices after 8 for the kids, and I leave my phone in the kitchen during dinner. It’s small, but it’s something. I write this, as I know many of you feel the same way. Embarassed by how addicted you are 🙋‍♀️, and helpless or not sure how to step out of the cycle. This might not be the bold cold turkey move some people need, but it’s my start, and I’m proud.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t about being anti-tech because I’m obviously in the tech world. It just hit a point where I knew I needed to change something. I don’t have it figured out. But I’m in the work of making space at home, and in my own nervous system.

If you’re building something or raising someone, or both, and feel like you’re failing both when your phone is always in your hand… you’re not alone. Let’s find a better way to lead, live, and log off. Any ideas, please share!