There are days when I feel like taking up cross-stitching and embroidering a pillow to say, “She did the best she could with what she had and we never doubted that she loved us.” The words are true to the best of my memory and yet false based on many of her actions so the opposite side should read, “Quite often she disliked her children.”… Read More Be My Baby
There are moments in motherhood that I find so poignant that I feel compelled to write them down. They leave me in a state of awe. Like a suspended, present membrance.… Read More Magical Reverence
I’ve been doing this job longer than any other in my life and I’m still not sure I’m good at it.
How do we inspire hope in our children or ourselves living the way we are now? For me, it’s finding the humor. Like the miniscule moments of hilarity when they misuse an expression or mispronounce a word.… Read More Magical Mispronunciations
I will miss my mother the rest of my life. The pain of her loss doesn’t heal or disappear. It becomes part of you.… Read More Heartwrecked
I love you both more than you will ever know and will possibly pass over in shock the moment I’m ever left alone in the bathroom.… Read More Pictures of your poop face.
Thank you… Read More Thank you for being a friend…
Never forget the baby wipes!… Read More One square away from despair.
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 octaves correlate with the humidity and the temperature is only exceeded by my blood pressure.… Read More Waiting for snow.
Ever wish you had an extra air hole to breathe through?… Read More Pneumostome
Cathexis. Definition, the concentration of mental energy on one particular person, idea, or object (especially to an unhealthy degree). I’d never heard of this word until yesterday. It’s an accurate label for this phase of my life and for the many parents, like myself, that have kids with special needs. It takes a dedication and… Read More Acceptance is a far off destination.
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?
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.
“Special needs” means just that, a need, not a limitation.… Read More Resuscitation of Hope
It would be dishonest of me to say I don’t miss my old life. I do, but not most of it, just my friends. Ok, and maybe my waistline, being able to talk on the phone, sleeping in, using the bathroom by myself but, still, mostly my friends. New Year’s Eve reminded me of that… Read More I miss me too.
“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
Indigenous Peoples’ Day, what do those words conjure up for you? For myself, it’s a sensitive subject of my questionable origin. It’s a strange sad question I’m asked, without fail, any time I mention being Native American. “What percentage are you?” If you were to ask anyone else how white or black they were you… Read More Passable Passiveness.
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.
When a child is first learning to speak, conversations are not all that unlike speaking to your pet or yourself like you’ve gone mad. In fact, I’ve been on the receiving end of “bitch has gone crazy” looks from many a stranger over these past six years. (But in truth they started back longer than… Read More I love you too.
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
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.
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?
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. 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.
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.
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.
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
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?
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.
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.
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.
“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
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.
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: “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
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
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
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
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
Boys will be boys and girls will be…victims?… Read More I’m a bad girl.
I couldn’t wait to start school and be a part of the world that my siblings disappeared into every day. Being left with a babysitter was becoming embarrassing and isolating. It was akin in childhood terms of going from maximum security prison general population to solitary confinement. Safer but destructive. The babysitter was our neighbor,… Read More First out of the gate.
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