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Jessica Rapisarda
I write about motherhood, guilt, and other redundancies.
I write about motherhood, guilt, and other redundancies.

Jessica's posts

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Love Story #5: Comfort Food
Dear McDonald's, You know how I feel about you. I know how you feel about me. José, the day manager, knows my order by heart. The teenagers working the after-school shift always break it to me gently if your milkshake machine is down for repairs again. My f...

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Love Story #4: Let There Be Lights (and Darks and Delicates)
Dishes: awful. Toilets: gag. Dusting: insert annoyed, sneezing emoji here. Then there's laundry. I love laundry. Send me bright whites. Send me darks. Send me towels and bulky bedding and delicates. Send me grass stains, pit stains, greasy collars, and musk...

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Love Story #3: The Pattern of Chaos
Math makes me clammy. In the presence of a percentage or an equation, I lose my bearings, get fogged in. When I'm suddenly on the hook to split a bill three ways, numbers bear down on me like a dream. And not like the lambent dream world I've built out of w...

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Love Story #2: Date Night
Shelby proposed after 9 months. We married 9 months after that. Nine months later, I became pregnant. Per tradition, after 9 months, our son was born. Compared with other couples, my husband and I had a relatively short courtship. No years of lazy brunches ...

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Love Story #1: The Reset Button
Today is the first in a weeklong series of love stories. They are not bodice-ripper stories. They are not tales of tender romance. There will be no account of the first time I laid eyes on my child (which, to be honest, was kind of like, "Wow!" but also a l...

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I Was Dreaming When I Wrote This: Life on Painkillers
When I woke up this morning, my bedroom was filled with starlight. Phosphenes, like slow-motion fireworks, slid across my field of vision. The ice pack I’d slipped inside my pillowcase the night before had warmed to a useless room temperature. I rubbed my j...

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Guest Post: Hire a Damn Doula
In the world of parenthood blogging (and it is, in fact, a world — a comforting, sloppy, emotionally chaotic world) most posts are skewed toward mamas. Moms have been, after all, the primary caretakers for eons. But the parenting landscape is rapidly changi...

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Charm City
My childhood home in Baltimore didn't have a chimney. And come Christmastime, that was a problem. “How,” I asked my dad, “is Santa going to get inside if we don’t have a chimney?” With a straight face, my dad responded, “Through the dryer vent.” A clothes d...

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I Love My Dog Less
Mine was one of those baby showers where the womenfolk gather around the mother-to-be in a tight, perfumed semicircle, cooing and ahh-ing as each bib or tube of nipple cream is unwrapped. Cards were dutifully read aloud and passed around the room. Fortunate...

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The Case for Mothering Yourself
I come from a long line of storytellers. My family is Sicilian, and there is nothing they love more than a tray of cured meats, a tub of good ricotta, and a well-told tale. I’ve heard some of the same stories, year in and year out, for 39 years: The one abo...
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