Tamára Lunardo

Author & Editor

love Archive

Thursday

12

March 2015

8

COMMENTS

Tuesday

10

March 2015

9

COMMENTS

Tuesday

24

February 2015

6

COMMENTS

Thursday

19

February 2015

31

COMMENTS

Tuesday

17

February 2015

11

COMMENTS

Wednesday

10

December 2014

9

COMMENTS

Friday

30

May 2014

5

COMMENTS

The Fight

Written by , Posted in life, poetry

You fought for a life that I couldn’t live; I fought for a love that you couldn’t give. We fought and we lost, and we lost one another. Will we ever recover from loving each other?

Thursday

22

March 2012

10

COMMENTS

Mama for a Moment

Written by , Posted in life

When I gave out a few gifts here at Christmas time, I had no idea one of them would demand so much from me. Shawn Smucker won a guest post, and as we began talking on Twitter, I learned that fostering children was a topic close to his family’s heart, and so I admitted, quietly as you can on a giant social network, that I had once been a foster mom. It isn’t something I talk about often or in detail because, years after we stopped fostering, the emotional tangle of it all is still so often too much. And […]

Thursday

9

February 2012

89

COMMENTS

Watering Weeds into Flowers

Written by , Posted in life

It was a day-after-day kind of day. Another day at home, twin three-year-olds whining at me, wearing on me, pulling on me and my threadbare patience. I read all about the French parents and their supremely well-behaved offspring that the entire Internet was going ga-ga over, and I was 12-years tired of my whole stay-at-home gig, and these people amazed and inspired and pissed me off, and I tried to reproduce their authoritative tone, but I guess I lacked a certain je ne sais quoi because my smallest children kept acting like total merde. “I hate staying at home,” I […]

Wednesday

9

November 2011

99

COMMENTS

On This Day

Written by , Posted in life

I’ve always liked my birthday. In New England, where I grew up, it was in the season we called autumn, which has always sounded to me richer and more beautiful than fall, when the leaves crunched satisfactorily under my feet, the air was crisp and delicious, and the trees formed row upon row of metaphor with their deep and vibrant changing colors. And, like the season, my birthday always brought me delight because my mother made it what every birthday should be: A day to very intentionally celebrate life and lavish love. And even at 32, contrary to unspoken rules […]

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