Similar to how dogs smell fear, my youngest child smells ambition. I had a plan, an actual true productive plan, for today. There are massive deadlines hanging over my head, there are bills and invoicing to do, and the regular life maintenance and goals I set daily to work out and eat well. I had it all worked out and it even included swimming in my heart-rate zone for 30 minutes and taking the oldest on time to go to her school field trip.
I had a plan.
As happens every single fucking time I have a plan, my son woke up at 3:30AM and literally yelled this half awake sleep... Read more
I have, what is commonly referred to as, “children who are too smart for their own good.” AKA: Gin and Tonic. Or, rather, GIfted and Talented. (Anyone else automatically have visions of limey goodness with the accronym GnT?)
My children have both been very successful academically. That is to say, they have ROCKED the preschool scene over and over. Colors? They got’em! Letter? All 26! Numbers? Counting to 12! Conceptually adding and subtracting before age four!
Thank you. For wrestling. For Running. For working. For being there.
First Meeting LB
You’re my Man, You’re D’Bomb
You’re The Dad, and I’m the Mom
Together we make beautiful kids
You always close the toilet lids.
You play dressup with our girl
You’re happy to give her a whirl
Our son fouls when you play ball
You don’t seem to mind at all
I’ve decided I’m the authority on what’s wrong with children today. Ready? Here’s my theory.
They are entitled little shits.
So, that’s the short version. The long version is a consequence of something like this:
My son is two. Two is THE MAGICAL AGE OF WONDERMENT. Aka: “NO NO MINE MINE MINE I DO IT” etc. And we all know that if you are not your child’s authority by the time they are two, they will have the authority and rule the family. No, it’s true. I saw it on Super Nanny.
These are the thoughts... Read more
After losing a friend recently to Breast Cancer, there is a flame under my ass to get healthy like it has never burned before. Those of us left behind are staring in to her pictures shaking our heads unsure how this could happen. We look at our lives and our children and it’s not too far to put yourself there, in her place, just hours after a diagnosis of breast cancer, kissing her family good-bye.
I still get a little choked up (read: bawl) when I think about that image. I don’t want anyone else to have that story. I don’t want another child to lose their mother... Read more
We have a.. how do we say this? ... “tight” community. Or “compact” if you’re a car salesman. Or “bumfucking close” if you’re us.
Whatever, people are everywhere always up in other people’s grills here.
Last night our neighbors had a tiny party. (Nice people, really, smoking Christians with a cute little white fully dog that always wave high and say “how are you” before jumping in their car and doing what people without kids do: LEAVE HOME.) It so happens that this particular two weeks has been warm... Read more
I’ve been sitting here ignoring most everything a grown up should focus on: Kids, Bills, Work, Laundry, Dishes, Life. I’ve been sitting here scouring the Internet looking for something.
I’ve been retracing the last thirty-three years of my life and watching images of memories. I’ve been seeking people I know and love online and the community I’ve grown so fond of. I’ve been re-reading comments and emails from my college friends looking for any signs of endings.
I can’t find them.
I can’t seem to... Read more
Please find part one here.
In 1999, I was living in Bellingham, having finished college at Western Washington University earning a degree in pretty much nothing helpful, working at coffee shops and day care centers. I was living with my best friend and ex-boyfriend from High School. It was an odd situation from an outsider’s perspective, as I’d call him honey when I walked in the door and he’d kiss my forehead and tuck me in to bed, in my own room where I would sleep alone.... Read more
Our goal is to be diaper free by thirty-five. Well, that’s Diaper Free in our house. By June 18th, 2009 we want to be diaper free so Mr. Flinger can celebrate his thirty-fifth birthday in undies.
Or, rather, we’ll all be in undies.
It’s been a long road to this point. Four and a half years of changing diapers almost without stop. There have been pull-ups, accidents, turds on the floor, stains. There are places we no longer talk about in the old house because of “that one time” when LB took off her diaper. Thank god it was a rental.
So... Read more