Carrie Saum

We celebrated our six-week date-a-versary on Lance's birthday. All he wanted was to binge-watch Scrubs and cuddle and eat cake in bed. If there was any question that he was my soulmate before that moment, it was laid to rest. We stayed in bed, watched TV, and ate cake. It was pretty magical, if I'm honest.

So, can we be (mostly) done with pumpkin spice all-the-things now? Let’s move on to something better, bolder, more festive.

So, when your BFF moves into her first real home and her husband has a birthday at basically the same moment, you bake a cake. And not just any cake but a beautiful thing made of the best ingredients. You aim high, confident that you can come through for your BFF and celebrate her family's milestones with four spongy layers filled with thick raspberry preserves and succulent buttercream.

I didn't have even an ounce of energy to spare to process my own feelings. Everything I had went to my son.

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It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Go forth and get Christmas AF, and enjoy the absurdity of this magical season. Happy holidays!

Gather anything orange, brown, olive green, harvest yellow, and dead. Dead leaves, dead flowers, dead hopes and dreams, and arrange them artistically on your front doorstep.

I still wake up every day knowing that no matter how much work I do, as a low-key racist, I will always have more to do. And I’m happy to do it.

Peanut butter can provide a good hit of protein and in the mornings, that’s what I need more than anything else. Except I love pastries.

Awash in the postpartum anxiety, I felt glued to the couch, unable to mobilize myself to get anything done except the bare basics of being a present.