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About Emily Newton

Born and raised in San Antonio, TX, Emily graduated from the University of Texas in 2010, where she majored in English and Education. She currently teaches high school English in Houston, TX, where she resides with her husband John (who serves as Chief of Staff to the Bishop Diocesan of TX), baby Annie, and golden retriever, Scout (named for Scout Finch, her literary favorite).

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Author Archive
    
    Dirty Pump Parts: A Mama's Muck and Mire

    Dirty Pump Parts: A Mama’s Muck and Mire

    I wonder if there will ever again be a time when my sleep cycles extend beyond three hours at a time. Having weathered this newborn season once before with Baby #1, I of course realize that this too (really) shall pass, but I nevertheless lament the lack of a full eight-hour-sleep these days. Each night I cross my fingers, say a prayer, and kiss my eight-week-old daughter goodnight, hoping for a bit of a longer stretch than the night before. At present, Katherine King (we’ve been calling her KK) lies swaddled and asleep in her crib across her darkened nursery….

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    On Being Eleven, I Mean Twenty-Eight

    On Being Eleven, I Mean Twenty-Eight

    A few months after my daughter was born, I began preparing her and myself for my return to work and her start at daycare. I printed off the twenty-six pages of registration forms for her school, and I sat myself responsibly at our dining room table with my newest Precise v5 black pen (these details matter) to begin filling it all out. In the very first line, marked “Parent Names,” I automatically began writing “Nancy and Rob…” and then paused. This form, this requisite piece of paper was not asking for my parents’ names. Embarrassingly, I realized that actually, I…

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    A Mama's Grace in a Culture of "Do"

    A Mama’s Grace in a Culture of “Do”

    My daughter turned one a few weeks ago, and as is apparently the case whenever I throw a party with cupcakes at my house, I learned something about God’s grace.

    Amidst making banners and hanging monthly pictures and Amazon Prime-ing multicolor tassels to hang from the mantle, I found myself reflecting both on what it means to celebrate my daughter, and on her growth and development. The “big O-N-E” tends to serve as a chance to throw a blowout party (we made it!) and as a clear marker for a child’s development: Can she wave “bye bye” yet? Can she stand on her…

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    Capon and Cupcakes: My Daughter's Baptism

    Capon and Cupcakes: My Daughter’s Baptism

    I’m a new mom stuck in a game where no matter how skilled I might be at changing a blowout diaper on the side of the road in a pencil skirt or making a chicken salad without too much mayo for my husband, I lose. An illustration for you: our daughter was baptized a couple weeks ago, and I must admit that I had been daydreaming about her big day for quite a while (for a variety of reasons, some holier than others).

    Amidst my daydreams, I naturally would smile thinking about the waters of baptism running over her bald head….

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    Hot Cheetos and a Little Post-Partum Grace

    Hot Cheetos and a Little Post-Partum Grace

    I currently live in a cliché. I am four weeks into motherhood, sitting in a nursing bra and a pair of pajama pants from high school that I’ve been wearing since yesterday, and I am fully aware of the fact that my deodorant is falling a little flat at the moment. I haven’t brushed my teeth today, I ate a bag of hot Cheetos for lunch, and I think I have dried spit-up on my big toe. I had hoped to write a few thank-you notes and maybe leave the house today, on a Target run perhaps. Instead, in the…

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    Conceiving Advent Differently

    Conceiving Advent Differently

    As I stumble through the door of the fourth baby shower or “sprinkle” I have attended in the last two months, wobbling atop a pair of rarely worn pumps, my eyes dart immediately to the buffet. I survey the landscape and breathe a sigh of relief: there are mimosas. And pimento cheese. Praise Jesus. Five minutes later, I am balancing a champagne flute in one hand, a blue paper plate in the other (It’s a boy, duh), and am trying to use my pinky finger to transfer a Ritz cracker to my mouth when the grandmother-of-the-honoree pauses her dialogue about…

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    Ubuntu and the Sharpened Pencils: Welcome Back to School

    Ubuntu and the Sharpened Pencils: Welcome Back to School

    Over the next several weeks, children will enter new classrooms across the country, sporting shiny sneakers sans skid-marks and carrying freshly sharpened pencils and blank notebook paper. And they are perhaps a bit nervous (or a lot nervous) about unearthing the answer to a question they’ve been wondering for weeks: Who did I get this year? Who will stand in front of us every day, and with whom will I spend the next nine months? Is she a Miss Honey or a Miss Trunchbull? Will she encourage me or lock me in the chokey? But whether this teacher is old,…

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    Identity, Ass, and the Wrong Context

    Identity, Ass, and the Wrong Context

    Emily Newton on the new phenomenon of social media anonymity, and the teenage quest for a powerful new name.

    Too Great of Expectations? Being Ordinary in a Culture of Extraordinary

    Too Great of Expectations? Being Ordinary in a Culture of Extraordinary

    Dickens had it right long before Brené Brown did, but she certainly dusts his ideas off a bit.

    As an English teacher attempting to ignite within my students’ brains interest in something other than taking selfies, Yik-Yak, or lulu-lemon yoga pants, I find it important to see the value in a text myself before asking my students to read it. We recently finished reading Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations, a novel which I likely Sparknote-d my way through as a freshman in high school (gasp). I just didn’t like it. So I felt a bit of trepidation as we approached this text, fearing that my experience…

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