I have that flu you get when you overextend yourself saying yes to things you have no business saying yes to because you are a foaming-at-the-mouth control monster with a martyrdom fetish.
I still get email pitches in my inbox every day. Do you want to try a sample pack of our latest diapers?
Recently Gigi told me she liked a boy. She’s in 1st grade, so I don’t even know what liking a boy at this stage even means, but naturally, my response was, “who needs boys when you’re going to be running your own television network?”
Growing up, I wanted to have two kids. A boy named Josh and a girl named Mercedes. Josh would naturally be the big man on campus, and when I say that, imagine me saying it the way your grandmother says it when she asks you about school. “How’s school, Josh? I assume you’re the big man […]
What you don’t see in this picture…
I say no a lot. I mean I say no to my kids a lot. Strangers and friends who I care considerably less about, I seem to struggle with limits an nos, and yet my kids, no is almost reflexive at this point. Hey mom can- Nope. Hey Brittany, can you fly in to do […]
Last week Gigi’s midterm report came home informing me she recognized no letters or letter sounds, and she was unable to write her name. Which is weird because she definitely knew all those things going into her second year of preschool. A preschool that apparently bases it’s curriculum on The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. […]
1. I’m thankful for the boxes of Ritz crackers dipped in chocolate. 2. I’m thankful that my kids don’t like Minecraft, because I have no fucking idea what’s going on when we play it and it gives me nightmares. 3. I’m thankful Andy is willing to live with a writer, and never questions when he […]
I went off to college wanting to be an elementary school teacher. That goal was lost somewhere along the line, but I had a very 1950’s daydream about me in cardigan sweater sets talking about conjugating verbs. After college, I spent my summers working at an all-girls summer camp, and my first week on the […]
I think one of the scariest parts of my marriage, for Andy, is the knowledge that I am always four seconds from being ready and willing to move to a commune. I blame my parents. There are entire photo albums of me laying on patchwork quilts on the grass next to five or six other […]