Eliana Osborn

Size, like age and salary and whatever else, is just a number. Pretending numbers don’t measure things isn’t helpful. I’m 38 years old: That isn’t good or bad, but it IS different from being 18 or 50.

I’m not broken by this therapy failure. Jane wasn't the person to help me at this point of my life. Someone else WILL be.

1. Write a damn letter.

My husband is worried about stigma, about Owen feeling different, about epilepsy being part of his identity. Those are sweet concerns, really. And I get it — I love the kid too. I’d never want to make his life harder in any way.

I am going to have amazing posture. My neck will look so skinny just from the way I hold my head.

A haircut is a whole lot cheaper than therapy or tattoos or a round-the-world plane ticket.

If he were an a--hole to my kids, things would be easier. But he’s not. He’s good with them. He’s his best self. It makes me alternately happy and heartbroken.

Don’t listen to horror stories about airplane tantrums. Listen to me while I let you in on the secret perks of seeing the world with kiddos.

Self-care is important. Massages are a good form of self-care. Too bad I keep thinking about what I'm going to make for dinner.

My Life on the Road (or MLR) is not what I expected...the idea of not waiting for experience to come to you permeates the book.