My daughter peaks over my shoulder, sees the photo of the Tri-Met Max train below the headlines, “Is that our train? Are you reading about trains?…” I tuck my phone away and surprise hug her close as I wipe away tears. She giggles and wiggles lose, sees my tears and runs for a tissue for me, “Are… Read More Did it break down?
Owen and I were holding hands as we walked back to the car along the sidewalk from dropping off Nora for school. Drop-off is always hard for him and today was the first time, after a month, that he didn’t cry. He loves his sister so much but he shows it in ways that are… Read More HAVE A GOOD DAY!
I’m done hating the mirror. My dumpy forty-something ass is as done with you as I am. Stare at it all you want. It doesn’t talk back but I will. I’m a mom, a writer, an educated woman who cusses, and that woman is all out of &^%#$ to care about your opinion on how… Read More My ass and I don’t care if you stare.
One of the smartest decisions I have ever made was becoming a mother but it wasn’t as easy as checking off a list. We struggled to have a successful pregnancy to be able to have Nora. Jamie and I are Rh incompatible, my hormones are imbalanced from PCOS, and every subsequent miscarriage increased the scar… Read More Be my baby.
I don’t want to be here today. I don’t want to be anywhere. It’s too hard to be a mom today. It’s too hard to do this in my internal solitary confinement any longer. I wish I wasn’t myself. I wish I was that mom. The mom society expects me to be. A mom who… Read More The mom paradox: internal solitary confinement
Nora and Owen fight over the Cinderella carriage nonstop. He thinks it’s part of his parade lineup of vehicles and Nora begs to differ. It’s been broken and repaired with superglue twice now. Amazingly, (she says while throwing salt and pulling out an eyelash to wish upon) they rarely hit each other. Items are thrown,… Read More It’s hard to be truly angry when you’re dancing.
I was taking a walk with the kids. Which means collecting rocks, hugging trees, avoiding cigarette butts, dodging patches of phlegm (side note STOP SPITTING, it’s disgusting!), and my anxiety ratchets up with every step. Nora is running to each tree in the parkway, skipping between them, as she turns to me breathlessly, “I just… Read More “Re-weird-iss” people and other dangers.
Do you often feel as if (whatever screen you are looking at) is screaming back at you, “What do you believe?!” Personally, I believe in love and kindness. That is my simple truth. I hold onto the smell of my children’s hair, the touch of their hand, and the sweet bliss of them sleeping when… Read More What do you believe?
My parenting is more like the show Louie than Mary Poppins. I quite often wait for them to sleep and feel my days at times punctuated by this rhythm of cook, feed, clean, play, sleep, repeat… I’ll notice I’m going on autopilot and sense their malaise as they pass over the toys their habituated to… Read More Oh, to be well-intentioned.
The first time I felt suicidal was when I was seven. I was being bullied by my classmates and teacher during the day and then at home. I didn’t see how life would improve. It didn’t for a long time. I’ve never purposefully attempted suicide but some could look at my past behavior and say… Read More Biking on a broken leg.
Kelso Kids 
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