Carrie Saum

Instead of making lunch once a day, I make it once every three days. It saves on energy, brain power, and I don't have to figure out feeding myself in my janky kitchen more often than absolutely necessary.

In the tradition of ancient Ayurveda, winter is a time to reflect, ruminate, nurture yourself and your relationships, and be still.

So, what do you do when you make something that looks a mess but tastes like the Virgin Mary give birth in your mouth? You add more sugar and salt to hide its minor imperfections and nobody gives a damn how it looks after the first bite.

I can't do this on my own. This life thing, this parenting thing, this figuring out how to make it all work thing? Yeah, those things. I can't. And what's more is I don't think any of us are meant to. It's time to shed the taboo around asking and receiving help.

I LOVE brunch. I love brunch more than I love most humans/animals/home renovation shows. It will come as no surprise when I tell you that I revere brunch like many people revere Lady Gaga and The Big Lebowski and Christmas. Brunch is a Big Deal for me — I take it seriously.

If you tend to eschew your inner child and prefer to feel somewhat sophisticated and faux-healthy, you can call a frozen wine drink a smoothie and it totally counts. Because we are all of a legal drinking age here and there is no shame in consuming your daily super fruit serving in a nutritious, fermented, frozen liquid form. The best part about all of this is you don’t need GOOD wine, you just need not-chardonnay.

On a practical level, being my own guru means that I trust myself. I can forgive myself when I make mistakes, and not get stuck in cycles of shame and despair. I can ask for help when I need it, and seek out important support like professional therapy and support when I can't get out of my own head.

One of my favorite things to do is make comfort food with a twist. Not so twisty that I lose people (I see you lurking in the $13 specialty treat section, beef jerky chocolate bar). Nor will I take two foods that are genius on their own but should probably never join themselves in a culinary union (I’m looking at you, Krispy Kreme Cheeseburger).

One of my favorite winter gourds is the humble acorn squash.

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.