Today I saw Aylan.

I didn’t mean too. There he was. In my news feed. His lifeless, three year old body. Laying, washed up on the Turkish shoreline. Still fully dressed. He looked like he was sleeping. As if he were one of my own precious boys.

I looked at the unbearable photos. Ones from his life. Ones from his death. Read his story. Between sobs. Between the snot and tears. I tried to get the complete picture. Of the others who have died. The countless others. These helpless refugees. Then I closed my computer. And wept...

I recently watched an incredibly inspiring video of a pod of dolphins beaching themselves and being rescued by onlookers. Dozens of bystanders rushing into the water in desperation to save the lives of these beautiful creatures that would otherwise have died. Complete strangers working in community. No conversation necessary. The goal was clear. Two things struck me: One, the dolphins came unexpected, out of nowhere. And two, no one needed a reason or an explanation from the dolphins even though they are largely considered to be the second most intelligent animal on the planet...

I've been trying to work up the nerve to post this. Transparency is not easy. Especially for the fragile. The insecure. But then I got an email from a reader that said, "Your honesty and vulnerability are an encouragement to just be real." And I'm reminded why I do this, let everyone see the junk in my life. Stuff we all spend so much time hiding, pretending isn't there. It's a forever uphill battle. This life thing. And I spend most of it falling down...

Like I'm talking about the weather. Or last nights baseball score. Or what's for dinner. There will never be a good way to broach this painful part of my life. And so that it won't destroy me, I choose honesty. Attempt to make it normal.

Even if it wasn't...

I have twin, two year old boys. Translation? I don’t know what it’s like to not be tired anymore. Two nights ago, around midnight, I found myself just finishing up the housework in the kitchen and desperate to go to bed. My husband was being obnoxious and less than helpful, teasing and taunting me. Next thing I knew, we were in a full on soap suds fight, chasing each other and squealing at the top of our lungs. This lasted for a good ten minutes. And it was perfect. You are never too old to laugh. To giggle hysterically. To play...