I hate Costco. I hate Costco the way alcoholics hate bars. The way recovering smokers hate Neil Diamond concerts.
My children, they amplify the situation.
We call Costco the $100 store. It’s the place you walk in needing two things and walk out with a tab well over $100. “We need diapers and toothpaste.” I mark it off the list. An hour and seventeen items later, the cashier says, “$234 dollars please.” Every. Single. Time.
My children begin to foam at the mouth about a mile before the turn in. “Are we going to COSTCO?!” my... Read more
As a girl, with a mom of girls, I never truly “got” the Mama’s Boy thing. But it happened before he was born. I thought it was because he was my second born, the baby I could comprehend before I saw him, the kicking that I already understood deep inside my belly.
Now I know it was because of him. Who he is.
I have two children and I connected with them both. I understand my daughter from a “been there” perspective. I can read her and I remember what it was like being a four year old starting ballet. I understand when she just needs time without... Read more
**April, 2013** Hello and welcome! If this is your first time here, I’d love to meet you. I’ve recently written about being diagnosed with Adult ADHD, spent much of last year traveling and went back to work full time as a Program Manager for Media at a large global company. My children are 8 and 6 and I love talking to people with similar stories. Be sure to say hi and pull up... Read more
I picture Jesus sitting at his laptop alone in his hotel room in Jerusalem. He’s kicked off his sandals (marketed simply as “Jesus Sandals”) and stretches as he launches notepad. He has an inspired word and he begins to type. He starts: “I am Jesus. I want to share with you some ideas I have. Simple, easy ideas that will bring us all together. I want to give us community and peace and harmony. This world is a fucked up one, but I believe we are each able to contribute to the happiness of others. Cut the bullshit. Let’s love.”
He eyes his... Read more
Last year I popped my BlogHer cherry. I went with my my close friends and we were there for each other to share shoes and do makeup and hair and in general ease the fears of our own insecurities. Or rather, they eased mine. (They don’t know a lot of bloggers so it was, “Hu, who’s that again? Who’s Isabell?” and I whisper “She’s kinda a big deal”)
Because I am… well… me, I do things in a Flinger sort of a way. Let’s recap the top five... Read more
Sometimes I have The Ugly. The Ugly tends to show up when I’m emotional, irrational, bloated, tired or overwhelmed. The Ugly can start from anything: a facebook update, a tweet, a post, a real life jab.
The Ugly? It sucks.
It sucks out my happiness, my joy, my security, my stamina, my confidence. It reduces a good, healthy, happy 33 year old woman in to a 15 year old girl with zits and generic jeans.
The Ugly, it is bad.
I often recognize The Ugly as just what it is: Ugly. I see it from my place of confidence and can see through its irrationality. But... Read more
Whatever issues I’ve had with facebook, and I have, are gone today. Suddenly today I saw the most amazing use of facebook and I’m thankful over and over for it.
I’ve mentioned my friend Amy who’s breast cancer took us from her family and friends entirely too early. It hit home too close and too hard for me. It was hard.
I was unable to make it to her memorial here in town. I was sad for that fact but I forgave myself because I knew I would’ve lost my shit if I’d gone. I mean The Big Ugly Crying.
But the community that Amy created... Read more
I walked by a glowing extremely pregnant woman. Her friend handed her a bag with some baby booty in it. I chuckled. I couldn’t help myself. I CHUCKLED. They looked up at me and I recovered, smiled, and continued on my way.
In my head I was picturing what the card would say. I chuckled again. It could be any of the following:
Outside: Congrats New Momma! You’re going to spend the next five years trying to get your pre-baby body back!
Inside: Good luck with that.
It’s 2:45AM. I’ve been asleep for two hours. I hear the familiar call from a tiny man, “Mommy! Mommy!’ I’m in his room before I open my eyes.
I get him milk, his Thomas Trains and put him back to bed.
It’s 6:00 AM and I hear the familiar call from a tiny man, “Mommy! Mommy!” I’m in his room before I open my eyes.
I pick him up hoping to give his sister a few more minutes of sleep. He asks for milk. I turn to get him some.
He starts screaming.
It’s 7:00 AM and he’s still... Read more
I was thinking about rebelling. Not in a present tense, but rather in a pattern-of-maturity. A “hindsight” if you will. “Enlightened Rebellion” even.
I realized my husband and I were together in High School when most people go through their rebellion. Our friends may have skipped class or chugged beer or started smoking but we were both first-borns too busy pleasing teachers and parents and each other. We were fairly straight laced aside from a few back-seat make-out sessions. We were home on time, we never did drugs and we never got pregnant. We stayed out... Read more