It goes by fast because it should
Honor the hard times and know that it can change because it will. It will always be different tomorrow.… Read More It goes by fast because it should
Category: baby
Bye-bye fishies. Hello Five!
“Alright, everyone ready for fishsticks!” “NOOOOO!!!” Owen jumped from his chair and ran screaming from the room, hustling down the hall like a deranged train, as if I set his cars on fire. Leonora and I looked at each other in shared confusion and equal concern. “But Owen loves fish…” “It’s ok, honey. I’ll go… Read More Bye-bye fishies. Hello Five!
Resuscitation of Hope
“Special needs” means just that, a need, not a limitation.… Read More Resuscitation of Hope
Awakening
He posed for a photo radiating pride for himself that can only be eclipsed by our own for him. Owen posing and saying “cheese”, asking for his photo to be taken, a simple action with so much meaning after these first three years of his life. Most might underestimate how unusual this is or the… Read More Awakening
I have a picture of your poop face.
I have a picture of your poop face. This thought runs through my head at least once a week if not a day. It’s my ace in the hole, pun intended, for when they really try my patience. I fantasize about showing it to their first date, the first time they’re awful to me in… Read More I have a picture of your poop face.
Grasping at water.
This is the closest I’ll ever be to you. I remember laying on my side, rubbing my planetary belly, looking out the window into the night sky, speaking to Nora in my womb. It was the closest she would ever be to me physically yet, even then, separate and unfathomable. Her own heart pattering away,… Read More Grasping at water.
Have fun with yourself!
“Have fun at school today.” “OK, mama, have fun with yourself.” “OK, honey – WHAT?!” That was two years ago that I had that exchange with Nora. From early on her literal interpretations of common phrases and sayings has had me in fits, elicited serious misgivings, and inspired epiphanies about the English language. It’s hard… Read More Have fun with yourself!
The doll will show him.
Nora said, “I want a baby doll that looks like Owen so he knows I love him and I can hold him.” I hugged her and bit back tears, “You are so kind…he knows you love him. Someday he’ll say it to you too but, trust me, he knows that you love him. He loves… Read More The doll will show him.
Whirling dervish of futility
I’m a whirling dervish of futility lately. My calendar looks like a pixelated Rorschach blot. If I went color blind from some sudden aphasia from the stroke (I’m fated to have if I keep up this pace) our whole world would fall apart. So as I organized, color coded appointments once again to match the… Read More Whirling dervish of futility
Mama, the baby is stuck again!
“What NOW, Owen?” I’m not proud of that lament but I’m driven to it by noon on a good day. Considering I’ve been up since 3 a.m., that makes it happy hour in some time zones for those without children. So imagine my surprise when I discovered my baby stuck in the cat door. It’s… Read More Mama, the baby is stuck again!
Papa playtime requires protective gear
My husband, Jamie, is meticulous and cautious by nature and trade. He spends his days as an engineer and prides himself on being thorough, accurate, and heading off trouble. Then there’s his play time with Owen. Owen has no sense of fear. He’ll jump from anything and run head long without sensing any imminent danger… Read More Papa playtime requires protective gear
Rock, Paper, Broken Glass
There’s certain truths of parenting, the Murphy’s Law of raising humans, that when you absolutely need things to go your way they probably won’t. Forgot the extra diaper? The baby is going to crap and play with it while he’s in the shopping cart. Your kid forgot to take their lunch to school? Today is… Read More Rock, Paper, Broken Glass
HAVE A GOOD DAY!
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!
My ass and I don’t care if you stare.
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.
My mom genes gave me camel toe.
Jeans on me nowadays are like what a miniature waist cincher would be on a hot dog. Pointless and kind of disturbing. My lady parts swell up enough from chafing to convince a stranger they’re lost in the Sahara with the amount of camel toe I’m sporting. This pelvis is too long, too broken, and… Read More My mom genes gave me camel toe.
My boobs: a love-hate relationship
I’m so top heavy I can’t lay on my back without suffocating or creating armrests in my armpits. My cleavage seems to start at my chin. (This is my super flattering selfie to illustrate.) Running feels like parts of my body are being ripped off by unseen forces. When I have to chase after my… Read More My boobs: a love-hate relationship
“Re-weird-iss” people and other dangers.
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.
Not every sperm is sacred.
Women who can’t find a job to support and care for their children let alone another one. Women who have been told that their baby in utero has no heartbeat. Survivors of rape. Shall I continue? Are you uncomfortable yet? How about me? A mother of two who has had two abortions. Two. Not because… Read More Not every sperm is sacred.
Puppetry of the Penis, a.k.a. our son
Puppetry of the Penis, hands down one of the weirdest, yet funniest, live performances I’ve ever seen. I remember thinking at the time that I would probably never see something quite as strange again in my life. Then I had children. Post bathtime our son likes to pull on his scrotum and contort it into… Read More Puppetry of the Penis, a.k.a. our son
What do you believe?
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?
Oh, to be well-intentioned.
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.
Biking on a broken leg.
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.
Is it normal?
It’s the stated or implied crux of most of our dilemmas in life it seems. We search for answers to solving obstacles and challenges based on the information we have, biased by our experiences, buoyed by our sense of reality that’s rooted in what we believe to be true. Is this the right parenting choice?… Read More Is it normal?
“Mom” from your cells up.
All mothers ask themselves at some point, maybe even daily, “Do all moms feel this crazy?” The scientific causes might surprise you. In the Atlantic article, “What Happens to a Woman’s Brain When She Becomes a Mother“, by Adrienne Lafrance, she summarizes several studies that have looked at the maternal brain. Our “mom brain” moments… Read More “Mom” from your cells up.
Dog mines, diaper bombs, and coffee kids.
“Artist Turns DNA From Chewed Gum Into Sculptures” the article in Popular Science said. My brain immediately grumbled to myself, “Goddamn hipsters and their coffee cups on our fence and walls… They’re all for saving the planet but not if it means giving up cigarettes and paper cups of coffee that they litter on our… Read More Dog mines, diaper bombs, and coffee kids.
Parenting hacks for whackadoos: Part 3
– Stinky garbage can? Stuck bag, again? Baking soda at the bottom of the can. It wards off mold and mildew, absorbs moisture, and it keeps the bag from sticking making it less likely to rip and easier to pull out. Find a mess at the bottom of the can when you pull the bag… Read More Parenting hacks for whackadoos: Part 3
International Womens Day: Don’t be a +&#!
All of us must do our part if we ever hope to have a society of equals. Gender equality is an issue of humanity just as much as peaceful resolution to conflict globally. Is it really that difficult to be inclusive and just? Is there any rational or logical justification for the subjugation of any… Read More International Womens Day: Don’t be a +&#!
The marrow of joy.
“It’s madness.” My friend, Molly, texts me to ask how I’m doing and that was my response. She’s my life-line to the outside world at times and always manages to make me smile. Our virtual conversations brighten my life and go back some seven plus years now online and started the day I pretended to… Read More The marrow of joy.
An end of an era.
Downton Abbey will always remind me of the early days with my babies. Of cluster feedings, the agony of tongue-tiedness, colic, croup; long hours of trying to sleep sitting upright and the relief and responsibility all at once while snuggling warm little bodies that filled me with every type of emotion and worry. So it’s… Read More An end of an era.
I’ll be crazy, you say when.
You wouldn’t expect someone with a broken leg to ride a bike, so why would anyone expect someone mentally ill to function normally? Then again, since most of us are ill to some extent, should we all just cut each other some slack? Where do you establish your boundaries, your baseline level of tolerance, your… Read More I’ll be crazy, you say when.
Is it my turn?
Sometimes I watch my kids play and I’m reminded of what it felt like to be high on something. To me, it’s the reason that anyone ever starts using drugs. To escape, to recapture that sense of wonder, to see the world as new again and feel nothing beyond the joy of your five visceral… Read More Is it my turn?
Grown up packaging
I don’t feel like a grown up. Most days I don’t feel like I should have been sent home from the hospital with a baby, twice. There are many occasions where I can’t shake the feeling that I’m waiting for the real parent, the grown up, to come pick up these kids and take them… Read More Grown up packaging
2 years and 4.9 years
It’s the small moments of letting go that are the closest I come to feeling like maybe I have this mom-thing figured out for once. It’s the moment when Owen climbs into bed and blankets my head with his body and I chuckle in rare, surrendered delight instead of annoyance at being awoken yet again throughout… Read More 2 years and 4.9 years
Childbirth, motherhood, and other torture
Owen had three procedures to fix his posterior tongue tie beginning at two weeks, I was a complete mess struggling to manually express milk into his mouth while he attacked my boobs like a rabid animal, recovering from an unplanned c-section and traumatic birth, trying to recover from bronchitis and an ear infection at three… Read More Childbirth, motherhood, and other torture
Being a grown up can kill you.
In retrospect, I should have walked out when the doctor said, “I know you’re in pain but we really need to talk about your weight.” In tears, I responded, “I don’t care if I’m fat, I’m in agony and I’m ill.” That particular day, I couldn’t sit still or sit up straight because of the… Read More Being a grown up can kill you.
Parenting hacks for whackadoos: Part 2
– A soap container for carrying crayons. – Baby food pouch caps can’t be recycled but you can reuse them. They make great necklaces and holiday garland. – Color coded laundry clips from the Dollar Store for each person’s towel in the bathroom to avoid sharing germs. – A couple drops of tea tree oil… Read More Parenting hacks for whackadoos: Part 2
RSVP already, don’t be an a$$hole
How do you explain in a way to an almost five year old, and an almost two year old, that people are assholes without saying “assholes”? How do you ease the hurt of being stood up at your own party? How do you explain the rejection from a friend? It’s hard not to think back… Read More RSVP already, don’t be an a$$hole
Friends, cat vomit, and insomnia
Trust me, they’re all related to one another. I couldn’t sleep, my ears were itching, my throat was raw and dry, and I couldn’t get comfortable. Goddamn kid germs had taken hold. It was 1:04 a.m., I had the bed to myself so I could ostensibly “rest” but still no sleep. Two benadryl, L-Tryptophan, melatonin,… Read More Friends, cat vomit, and insomnia
Keenly aware that this crying annoys me.
Maybe it’s the SSRI toxicity scare this past summer and the subsequent weaning off of Zoloft, or maybe the fetal cells left behind by my babies, but I cry very easily now. I used to laugh in dismay at those that cried at commercials, the news, heartfelt articles about disease, children with diseases, or photos… Read More Keenly aware that this crying annoys me.
I have proof
Nora was crying inconsolably after having a fight with Owen. He had just started walking at the time and was officially learning how to be a royal pain in the ass. She was a conflicted jumble of emotions. Loving her brother fiercely, desparately irritated with him, hurt to have to share our attention, pained to… Read More I have proof
New year, new tone
She’s sleeping in our bed nested deep in the many layered covers that help me feel like a lead apron is upon me. (I felt very relaxed the first time I had an xray performed.) She’s sweaty and restless, successfully fighting off seasonal germs and bad dreams, most likely working out the stress of the… Read More New year, new tone
Nora-isms of December
“What do you want to be when you’re older?” “Halloween. ” “Christmas is for presents!” “No, honey, it’s for being with people you love and spending time with them.” “Ooooh, ok, mama,” and in a whisper as I walk away, “…and cookies.” “Mama, can we watch the “Honk-ah” show?” “I’m sorry, honey, what?” “You know,… Read More Nora-isms of December
22 months: Opposable thumbs and opinions, oh my!
“Today will be different,” I think to myself. “Today I won’t lose my patience with them, I won’t yell or hide in the bathroom, I’ll interact whenever they want my attention and I won’t mind.” That was before I went to bed. Then it was 4am again and I was being awoken by our almost… Read More 22 months: Opposable thumbs and opinions, oh my!
Nora-isms of November
Owen: “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!” Nora: “Owen, please stop.” Owen: (silence) Nora: “Oh my, (reverent gasp) it worked.” Owen: “…………………AAAAAAAAAH!” Jamie has been out of town on a business trip. The kids were up at 3am every day asking for him. Good to know you’re missed, right? Except that Owen thinks I’m hiding him in the basement and… Read More Nora-isms of November
You’re such an August.
I hate summer. I love all the other seasons. I’ve tried to embrace it, I’ve tried to adapt, but as I near forty I’m assessing my life and discerning my spiritual truths. I can’t stand being overheated, sweating, insects being on or biting me, being blinded by bright light, the smell of cheap body products… Read More You’re such an August.
21 months
He strips all clothes off except for his shirt the moment he’s home. He builds cars, trains, and “towahs” with his Legos. He tries to snap his fingers and calls for Simone by clucking his tongue and calling her “Monie”. The crazy thing is she responds and comes to him. He feeds himself. He goes… Read More 21 months
Nora-isms of October
Nora: “Dada, your eyes taste like pineapple.” Jamie: “…Thanks.” Nora: “Mama, you want a story?” “Sure, honey.” “Oh, wait, is Owen asleep? Because this is scary! There’s a dragon, a deer, and they’re walking for a LONG time…” (Damn, that is scary.) Nora: “Uh-oh, I think Owen pooped. He smells like soup.” (Note to self,… Read More Nora-isms of October
20 months
He says, “Bye-bye!” He waves as he leaves for the few hours away with a sitter. He’s smiling, Nora is cheering him on, “C’mon, Owen, let’s go!” She’s decked out in the outfit she chose, put on herself after getting herself ready in the bathroom where she asked for “privacy”, she has toothpaste on her… Read More 20 months
Nora-isms of September
“Mama? The moon is coming up too early!” Bedtime is evil. Remember, you can’t spell “police” without saying “pie”. Nora: “Mama, I need the “pie” piece!” Me: “Which (Lego) piece is that?” Nora: “The one with the letters that say “pie”.” Me: (Holding up one saying “POLICE”) “Nora, do you mean this one?” Nora: “Yeah!”… Read More Nora-isms of September
Parenting hacks for whackadoos
There’s something about the term whackadoo that makes me smile. The first time I heard it was from a coworker who hailed from Oklahoma. She said, “Well, you know, any state that allows open containers while you drive, has drive thru bars, but tickets you for being drunk is obviously ran by whackadoos.” Amen, sister.… Read More Parenting hacks for whackadoos
They’re my reason
An acquaintance once said to me, “It’s so good to see you haven’t lost yourself in being a mom.” (Before you ask, yes, she’s not a parent and, no, I didn’t claw her eyes out.) I merely smiled, momentarily bit my tongue, and calmly replied, “I’m still me and I’m also a mom.” She tried… Read More They’re my reason
Baby Shake Weight
Our drunk looking Gilligan got a clean bill of health for his 18 month wellness check. 75th percentile for weight and heigth, 98% for foot length and head circumference. (I could have told you that. Or at least my uterus could have.) My baby is a Shake Weight. You would think that it would improve… Read More Baby Shake Weight
This cow goes meow.
June 2nd, 2015 We’re playing a losing game of family bingo. The object of the game is that everyone sleeps through the night without crying, soaking the bed, or causing themselves trauma or injury. Our kids really suck at this game. I’m waiting at the finish line to hug them but I’m so sleep deprived… Read More This cow goes meow.
Nora-isms of June
“I don’t get to do ANYTHING, I am EVERYTHING, I DON’T LIKE it, and I – no, no, NOOO!” Three minutes later after she channeled Sam Kinnison she takes on an English accent ala’-Peppa the Pig, “Mum’a, may I have a tea party, please?” (Why, yes, sweetness and light. Of course I’ll go out of… Read More Nora-isms of June
Teddy bears and other sexual toys
Selfies, the modern narcissists’ version of slideshow parties and vanity plates. We’re happy for you, Steve, that you went to Dubai and that Chapman Chutney III is first chair in his pan flute class but please stop with the selfie stick action sequences on your GoPro, ok? A little goes a long way when it… Read More Teddy bears and other sexual toys
Baby care 101
Baby care 101: 1. Don’t drop the baby. 2. Feed the baby. 3. Stay awake so you can avoid 1 and complete 2! It took me 10 months to incubate him, 72+ hours of torture to get him out, and over a year of patience to keep him from hurting himself. Wake up damn you!… Read More Baby care 101
Pottery Barn family
So many layers of emotion with the memory of this photo. The fact that this three day weekend has been hellish, that I’ve been struggling physically and wish I could have been drinking the entire time so I enjoyed my kids and didn’t want to run away, that I was a better mother who was… Read More Pottery Barn family
Pottery Barn family
So many layers of emotion with the memory of this photo. The fact that this three day weekend has been hellish, that I’ve been struggling physically and wish I could have been drinking the entire time so I enjoyed my kids and didn’t want to run away, that I was a better mother who was… Read More Pottery Barn family
Kelso Kids 
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