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”.
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
“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!
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?
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
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
We survived G.W., we suffered through his father, and Reagan before him. We’ll survive this jackass. (See the following lovely examples of our past presidential mistakes: http://m.huffpost.com/us/entry/10135836) Yet the turbulent emotions of grieving these events are still so raw. So here it goes… Any human who voted for that openly known bigoted rapist is to… Read More Keep fighting.
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.
– Sick of groceries getting knocked over on the ride home? Have a kid who won’t leave the bags alone? Use the seatbelts to hold the bags in place. – One sick kid in the house and you’re trying to limit germs? Laundry clips from the Dollar Store. Color code Typhoid Mary’s towel and give… Read More Parenting hacks for whackadoos: Part 4
This struck a chord with me and I felt like it might with some of you. It’s OK to miss what we’ve left behind and not want it back. Must Be This Tall To Ride (Image/The Guardian) Because I’ve been incredibly blessed, my parents’ divorce when I was 4 was the worst thing to happen… Read More It’s Okay to Miss Things Without Wanting Them Back
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!
We were arguing. Everything was an emotionally charged exchange from what socks to wear to if we would even need them since our big plan was puzzles, indoors. It was the day before Kindergarten, and all through the house, every creature was stirring and I was an irritable louse. Cheese puffs were consumed, coffee kept… Read More I got the kindergarten blues.
First, I apologize for taking a brief break. Second, where am I? No, really, (to quote the Talking Heads) “Is this my beautiful life?” Does anyone remember that feeling of panic when they said you could leave the hospital with your baby and your reaction was “no”? I do, many times over. It’s that same feeling… Read More Must speak Martian and other skills required.
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.
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.
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.
This. This is just a lovely reminder to me today that there are kind people in the world. Thank you
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
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.
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
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.
Parents, take heart. Not all TV is bad. New research finds that watching America’s favorite tiger can be good for your developing child. You remember Mr. Rogers, don’t you? The red sweater. The shoes. The songs. Your kids may not know who he is, but they likely know who Daniel Tiger is. Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood…
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
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.
Nora is grinning and bearing her belly. I look up from writing and smile, “Uh-oh, is my hand going to tickle you?” A squeal of laughter and she’s off running after answering, “YES!” Owen joins in and chases after her giggling, “Nawnie-nawnie-na-na, sista’!!” We tickle her tummy and then Nora turns to Owen, “Oo-ie?! Do you… Read More Consent starts with parents.
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.
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?
I apologize for not posting any new entries on the blog recently. It’s not for lack of material, Nora and Owen have many new adventures, but my health has been poor. I’ll return with new posts as soon as possible. Thank you
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.
I apologize for my temporary absence in posting and promise to remedy that soon. In the meanwhile, please read this post by a humorous and insightful writer that I admire. As he says, “The thing we must do for our children is help them KNOW they are worthy of love and belonging. That’s it. That’s… Read More Who is Worthy of Your Love?
Jill Smokler reflected on her blogging career in her article, “How Blogging Has Changed Since 2008”, that: “Then: You started a free blog on Blogger and hit publish. Now: You pay for a url. You pay… You curse Facebook for not showing your blog to enough people. You pay for wine because, dammit, you need a drink… You pay… Read More When I grow up.
“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”.
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!
“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
“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.
– 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
“What’s So Terrible About Two?” The benign article asked. My brain screamed, “Really? REALLY, assholes?!” They meant to be uplifting in their message, they meant to give people hope, to show that it isn’t that bad. At least I think so but I had trouble reading it as Owen was busy pulling a skintag off… Read More Toddlerhood: A test of a parents love
I opened my BBC news app to see the headline “BBC News: New Zealand ‘cat burglar’ caught stealing men’s underwear“. It immediately reminded me of our departed cat, Peter, and his penchant for stealing my bras and underwear. He applied his unappreciated and illicit creativity by chewing, kneading, and shedding onto the items into a… Read More Reminiscing
“Let’s be open-minded and not talk about it…” “I don’t want to offend anyone…” “Politics shouldn’t come between friends…” “Discussing your vote is rude…” “We should honor everyone’s opinion…” Here’s my thoughts on sentiments like these, they’re bullshit. “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to… Read More Civic duty: don’t be a dunce.
“Don’t worry, mama. I got it.” She shimmied forward in her chair towards her large, stemmed water glass refusing my help in pushing in her chair. I bit my tongue and watched her swell with pride in her big kid abilities as she drank with complete focus. The day had been a success but like… Read More High Noon at High Tea
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 +&#!
“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.
Remember the first time you understood what “popular” meant? Do you remember if you thought immediately as to whether or not it applied to you? I’ve never thought of myself as popular. Friendly, yes, but I was never prom queen or the girl with a full paper heart mailbox of Valentines from school. It makes… Read More Thank you for being a friend…
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.
The grass might be greener but that’s only because the shit is higher on that side of the fence. I can’t recall if I heard that somewhere or if my brain just made it up so let’s say “yes” and move on. So some of you have emailed or messaged me asking if I have any… Read More The grass is just deeper.
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?
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
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
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
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.
– 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
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
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
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.
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
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
“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
“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!
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