Anna Burgess Yang
For a long time, writing was only on the periphery of my life.
I started blogging when my oldest son was born. It was 2009, and “mommy blogs” were all the rage. Some blogs ended up taking off, turning their writing into a career (Jenny Lawson, Jen Hatmaker, and Glennon Doyle come to mind). If I’m honest with myself, I wanted that. I wanted one of my posts to go viral, driving traffic to my website and giving me a way to continue writing.
Continue reading “What Is Missing”
Spring has had a slow start this year. I keep thinking it’s around the corner — even to the point where I packed away my sweaters. Yet it has been a roller coaster of rainy weather, cold, and general glumness.
Continue reading “In the Clouds”
A few days ago, Autumn announced that she wanted sisters.
Her 4-year-old face was pulled into a scowl. It wasn’t a request—it was a demand.
She’s said similar things before but usually framed that she wants to be a big sister. I’ve told her that we’re not having any more babies, but she will get bigger so (in a sense) she is growing into a “bigger” sister to her older brothers. At the time, that seemed to be enough to satisfy her.
Continue reading “Wanting Sisters”
On this day two years ago, we were increasingly concerned about Covid-19. Large organizations were beginning to shut down. Certain cities had become hotspots, with hospitals quickly filling. I was supposed to attend a book event that week and it was canceled.
On March 12th, 2020, Ger and I made a huge trip to the grocery store. We had no idea what a lockdown could look like. Would we be able to leave the house? How long might we be stuck at home? We saw the writing on the wall and pre-emptively kept our kids home from school the next day.
On March 13th, 2020, Illinois announced its shutdown measures. Schools closed. Most businesses, other than essential services, closed. The message was, “Stay home. Flatten the curve.” We did our part.
Continue reading “How Far We’ve Come”
I am the oldest of three children: two girls and one boy. My sister and I are about two years apart, and my brother is six years younger than me. My own children have a similar pattern: two boys, about two-and-a-half years apart, and then a girl eight years younger than the oldest.
Continue reading “Bonded by a Shared Experience”
Musings Out Loud 