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.
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.
“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”.
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.
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.
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
“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
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
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