Why I’m happy my husband kept his surname

It was a chilly April night; I had a horrible day at work and called off our date since my job was running late, but his sweet charm and the promise of a delicious meal won me over. (There’s really not much some fresh, crusty bread and soft, salted butter can’t do to win me over.) After a great date with my best guy, we walked around our local college campus, a walk we took hundreds of times during our college years together.

We passed the dorm where he yelled, “I LOVE LINDSAY ROSASCO” at the top of his lungs in the middle of the night, with people replying, “SHUT UP!” or a celebratory “WOO” from the windows. We passed the music building where students were practicing, even late at night, the jazzy tunes floating their way through the air. We walked by the computer building where I surprised him years ago after class with a huge comforter and dessert for an impromptu nighttime picnic on the quad.

We walked around the mall where I watched him play kickball as I debated the actual importance of making it to my visual communications art class. We ended in front of our old dorm, the place I made my first friend as an unnerved transfer student who quickly became my best – where we stayed up until 5 a.m. talking, laughing, and learning. The place we acted out the cliché of young and wild and free and where a tipsy first meet turned into deep love.

The things you’ll never know

My dearest little one,

I’m writing this one-handed, your little breaths keeping the softest metronome, your little lips pursed out as you dream of eating.

You’ll never know all the times I kissed your tiny fingers as you gripped me so tight; I promise it’s impossible to even count that high.

You’ll never know how I breathed in your skin like it was oxygen, that sweet, pure, Cream of Wheat smelling skin that gives me life.

You’ll never know how much I adored watching your little lips move feverishly as you ate, a little motor that made me laugh out loud, as if you were famished – your rolls would beg to differ.

Why We Need to Empower Men

We hear it everywhere – women need to know they can do the same things as men. Well I think that notion is quite tired, don’t you? It couldn’t be more apparent that women can do what men do – it even pains me to write that because it’s certainly no revelation.

Instead of this, we should be putting our efforts into empowering men, helping them to do the same things as women. If you know anything about me, you know I’m a feminist (and unless you don’t like humans, you are too!), so this statement of men empowerment may seem strange to you – just hear me out – and please don’t miss the flippant tone.

We don’t give men enough credit

I didn’t really realize this until I was married and it definitely escalated when I had kids, but I came to the realization that we don’t give men enough credit.

This is how I came to that conclusion – my husband does it all.

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