Thank you for being a friend…
Thank you… Read More Thank you for being a friend…
Category: humor
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
Pesticles and other hazards.
Beware the pesticles and men-o’-claws.… Read More Pesticles and other hazards.
One square away from despair.
Never forget the baby wipes!… Read More One square away from despair.
Angry birds and tales of home repairs
One of the benefits of autism is intense focus that can have comical results or at least inspire great art.… Read More Angry birds and tales of home repairs
Waiting room Weirdo
Sniff…sniff…snortle. It’s early summer and everyone seems to be sniffling from the deluge of pollen and the woman who chose to sit next to me in the empty waiting room was no different. Except now I’m suffering too, from her. I take a deep breath and try to distract myself with my reading. My mind… Read More Waiting room Weirdo
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!
Pre-soil and repeat.
Never would I guess that I would have to explain why we don’t plug up the toilet.… Read More Pre-soil and repeat.
The “F” word.
Sometimes the “f” word is foul.… Read More The “F” word.
Once a mummy, always a mummy.
“You see coffee is what keeps mama from feeling like I need a coffin and a coffin is where I’ll finally get to sleep.”… Read More Once a mummy, always a mummy.
Can I have your hair?
Last hair donation. Might as well help others and make something of my yeti-ness.… Read More Can I have your hair?
I do ME-self!
I need to rethink my life’s social story.… Read More I do ME-self!
I, Owen!
Most parents dread kids’ birthday parties if they know any better. (If you don’t, please explain to me your trick for navigating children’s social politics as well as their parent’s.) … Read More I, Owen!
Threats, bluffs, and tears
You can’t take off naked.… Read More Threats, bluffs, and tears
Waiting for snow.
The octaves correlate with the humidity and the temperature is only exceeded by my blood pressure.… Read More Waiting for snow.
Pneumostome
Ever wish you had an extra air hole to breathe through?… Read More Pneumostome
I have a rash on my head.
There are so many topics they don’t prepare you for in those birthing and parenting books, so many things I wish someone had been honest with me about before I had Nora, and to that point I say to my friend two months away from giving birth to her first child, “Greer, this one is… Read More I have a rash on my head.
Did you “eeear” me?
It’s hard to trust that his progress won’t regress at some point because the, truth is, it might since it has before. Yet, even if it does, I now know he can do the work…… Read More Did you “eeear” me?
Open-minded, just not agreeing with you.
Most of you, since you’re reading this, understand I have a twisted sense of humor and I don’t shock easily. I’ve been told it’s biting, sarcastic, dry, droll, and once (by an exe) caustic. What I hear in my head though is “you’re funny”. I maintain this blog for my own selfish enjoyment, to document… Read More Open-minded, just not agreeing with you.
Politely Defiant
“No, ‘tanks. Not yet…No, thank YOU.” I hear this statement frequently from Owen. It epitomizes his character and willful spirit. Even as he is defying you he is doing so politely. He is kind yet abrupt and I love him all the more for it and find it to be true of most people I… Read More Politely Defiant
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
You’re right.
You may be right. (And, no, I’m not quoting Billy Joel.) Here’s your moment to feel justified. You’re right. There, you heard it, satisfied? It seems that’s all anyone wants to hear anymore. Watching the news doesn’t sound any different than listening to my kids fight over toys. I find myself saying to the tv… Read More You’re right.
Pillow Power
We’re pillow people. Correction, the kids and I are pillow people. My husband is not. He’s one of those folks that could sleep on a bare floor with a block under his head. I, on the other hand, am not such a person. As tough as I might be in other areas of my life… Read More Pillow Power
Finger crotch.
I have to make the peace sign with my right hand for another week. Of all the moronic injuries this one embarrasses me the most. Avocado hand. Note to self, don’t wield a knife when your toddler is climbing the baby gate to the kitchen, shaking it, and screaming at you as you cut into… Read More Finger crotch.
Our summer vacation
We were walking through our neighborhood, holding hands, my mind was wandering. I lost track of the conversation as I felt mesmerized by seed fluff floating by and underfoot. It brought me back to my walk with Nora through the snow in this very spot only six months before. I looked up at our favorite… Read More Our summer vacation
Waiting room Weirdo
Sniff…sniff…snortle. It’s early summer and everyone seems to be sniffling from the deluge of pollen and the woman who chose to sit next to me in the empty waiting room was no different. Except now I’m suffering too, from her. I take a deep breath and try to distract myself with my reading. My mind… Read More Waiting room Weirdo
Cheese
I try to say something the kids think is strangely funny or naughty to get them to smile for pictures. When I was a kid, I panicked when someone said “smile” because it normally meant I was suppose to hide being scared or that I was injured. It’s that feeling of being anxious and having… Read More Cheese
I’m a bad mom.
Things have been bad and, when they are, the guilt of it weighs down on me as if gravity has doubled. Bad enough that I hide in the bathroom from my kids. Bad enough they’ve memorized lines from Bob’s Burgers. Bad to the point of not turning the stove on for weeks at a time.… Read More I’m a bad mom.
Real names for real stuff.
The over share. That moment when your child ups the ante, tilts your world, and calls you out. When all the self-esteem boosting, the positive parenting, the talks about “using your words” and “speaking up” comes around to bite you in the ass. Or, in this case, my uterus. It was an average Wednesday in… Read More Real names for real stuff.
It’s a mother of a day.
The day started with being awake for two hours and longing for coffee as I awaited the “surprise” breakfast in bed. I listened to the chaos in the other room and wondered how long till someone cried. All the while feeling guilty for not being more appreciative on the day I’ve been told that everyone… Read More It’s a mother of a day.
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.
Fork you and your words.
Owen was two. He was speaking seventeen words. He told his dad he loved him. I barely could get him to say “mama”. Home with him every hour of the day and he tells his father, “I love you.” I was Barbara’s jealous resentment. He rarely kissed. If he did it was without using his… Read More Fork you and your words.
Keenly aware you annoy me.
Kids interpret instructions too literally at times. Autistic kids take it to new levels. For instance, I use the refrain, “Use your words not your hands!” I did so over breakfast as the kids wrestled over a toy. In frustration over the disagreement, unable to voice his thoughts at that moment, Owen threw his arms… Read More Keenly aware you annoy me.
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!
Love advice from kids.
If only we made friends as easily as when we were kids and if only love was as simple as sharing your snacks. Adulting is just too hard sometimes and there’s moments where I want to stay with Nora when I drop her off at school so I can join in. Nora and I were… Read More Love advice from kids.
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.
When a duck says “cock”.
The doorbell rings for a package and Owen checks to make sure it’s the postal carrier he likes. It is, I breathe a sigh of relief that Owen won’t be stripping in anger, and I greet Dave as I open the door. He says hello to Owen, “Hey, buddy, good job keeping your clothes on.” … Read More When a duck says “cock”.
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!
Am I as bad at this as I sound?
The question came to me again. Am I as bad at this as I sound? I read through a comment on a past post that was meant to be flattering but thanked me for sucking at this thing called “parenting”. My original intention for this blog, much like parenting, was to create something for… Read More Am I as bad at this as I sound?
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
I’m not brave.
Today has been good. I wanted to wait to write this on such a day. A day where I actively feel gratitude and blessed for my children. A day where Owen going down for a nap is a happy smile of contentment and not the exhausted deflation of relief I feel most days after listening… Read More I’m not brave.
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!
The boy who chases cars.
Owen is obsessed with cars. He runs out to grab them up the moment his eyes open. I hear his feet slapping on the hardwood floor and then him running to our bed once he has them. I’m awoken by him launching himself headfirst into my neck, rubbing his forehead on me in his version… Read More The boy who chases cars.
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.
Be my baby.
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.
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
The mom paradox: internal solitary confinement
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
It’s hard to be truly angry when you’re dancing.
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.
“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.
Summer Fun: How I keep from losing my $#!+ lately
I hate summer. I don’t mean that in a hyperbolic, whiny, “Oh gawd, this sucks!”-whingey reality tv star way. I mean that I start to have panic attacks in May realizing that (in a Game of Thrones foreboding voice) summer is coming. If it was a zombie, I would make Rick cringe with the beat down I would… Read More Summer Fun: How I keep from losing my $#!+ lately
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.
“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.
Your entitled to hear me say “no”.
“We don’t always get what we want!” Not my finest, or most original, moment of parenting. Not the kindest either. Shared illness amongst us, lack of sleep, and the infinite meltdowns of a verbally struggling two year old had me barking clichéd guilt trips at my five year old daughter this past week. Even with… Read More Your entitled to hear me say “no”.
Birthday or bust!
The mylar balloons have popped (with help from mama when she therapeutically needed to stab something). The presents have been screened before you had a chance to dive in at home and find the elicit Barbie doll (all those late pre-Christmas nights with a precise Exacto knife along tape seams taught me well). The thank… Read More Birthday or bust!
Good words, bad uses
“Mama, you said a bad word.” My mind raced through all the muttered curse words I thought she hadn’t heard that day. The mouthed or spelled obscenities shared with other adults in her presence. Fuck, she can spell and read now, dumbass! I swallowed the mammoth knot in my throat along with my pride, trying… Read More Good words, bad uses
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
Kelso Kids 
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