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Santa Isn’t Real But Can I tell my Ten-Year-OId? Last year I watched my nine-year-old daughter write her letter to Santa. I was dewy eyed and sentimental because I thought this would be the last time I would see a child of mine perform that innocent tradition. I can’t tell you how exasperated I am... Continue Reading →
I was rejected at birth. Sometimes I feel weird, a bit different, not because I have a gaping hole where my natural parents should be, but because I don’t. I’ve always been comfortable with being an adoptee. My husband fondly reminds me of how I told him about my heritage. Three pints into an early... Continue Reading →
Lisa Timoney Writes 