Carrie Saum

The fastest way to living without strings is to be up front about expectations and exchanges, even if it's uncomfortable. Like money. Like time. Like emotional sweat equity.

We had no turkey, no casserole dishes heaped sweet potatoes or creamy green beans, no pies made from scratch, no beautiful table settings or nice dishes to heap our non-existent feast upon.

[CN: emetophobia] I wish my son's gut could handle more than a few foods. I wish there were a magic Google function that could tell me and all of Echo's doctors how to manage this jerk of an allergy.

I've spent the last week in sunny California. I was there for a massive food expo. It was also Spring Break.

I also kind of feel like whatever I do eventually put in my body needs to be quality and filling and full of nutritious goodness. This is hard on mornings when it literally feels like all I can do to make toast. Sometimes I look at it, contemplate it fresh out of the toaster and briefly wonder if I really need to spread the almond butter on it. Because effort.

Motherhood didn’t pan out the way I anticipated, not even a little bit. It was so much more electrifying and terrifying and amazing than I ever imagined.

This weekend, I was at a work function where there were thousands of vendors trying to sell their goods.

Heating up a kitchen while you are doing your level best to not become human molten lava is always the goal during summer, no matter where you live. I prefer batch cooking if I can make that happen, and never, under any circumstances, do I turn on my oven. Unless I'm baking a birthday cake or maybe some hand pies.

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

But seriously, Babywatchers. STOP IT. It’s none of your business. Commenting on a woman’s body in general without any solicitation from the woman is not only unwanted, it’s inappropriate.