2/11/2018

Our Girls, Our Selves, Our Thoughts, and Our Bodies Parenting

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I wake up and step on the scale. My entire day depends on this moment. It’s not in line with the mindful living or buddhist ideals I’ve been trying to incorporate to my life, but it’s the most entrenched habit and judgement that remains. 

Body dysmorphia is a tenacious bitch.

4/5/2017

My daughter is my hero ADHD Parenting

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I’ve been getting a lot of calls lately. I answer and hear a sniffing, shaky voice on the other side. It’s barely audible. It’s my daughter, reaching out from her adolescence, searching for some guidance. 

She is my hero.

10/9/2014

In which I write loud letters from the bathroom Parenting

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I can’t tell you how many times I hear the Lost in Translation quote in my head. It doesn’t sound like the movie, it sounds like a dear friend of mine from my First Real Job at Portland Public Schools; “But they learn how to walk, and they learn how to talk… and you want to be with them. And they turn out to be the most delightful people you will ever meet in your life.”

Jenna told me this when her own baby was only a few years old. I remember so vividly because I hadn’t had children yet, but the idea stuck with a tar-like dignity that warms in the sun on certain occasions.

Internet Explorer and my two year old: a toss up Front-end-developer Parenting

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I can’t decided which I am more frustrated with today. IE or LB. They both throw tantrums when asked to behave. They both push my buttons until I’m ready to yell. Neither of them plays nicely at times and neither of them gives a rats ass about web design.

Look, let me come right out and say it here. I gosh-darn strongly dislike Internet Explorer. (LB threw out the word crap the other day followed closely by damnit. I am now speaking only in “rated LB” terms around the house and it gets so. bleeping. irritating. But really, do I need my two year old saying fuck? I obviously hit my fuck quota for the year.) Ok, it goes like this….. I get frustrated and unsettled at life in general. Perhaps it’s a mom who is prettier and not gagging hours a day over her sink that makes me wish I wasn’t me. Or maybe it’s the car’s “check engine” light that appears on a random basis having nothing what-so-ever to do with getting gas or a gas cap like one would hope. Or maybe it’s the two year old being very two-sie and me being very preg-sie and we just collide a little too long. It is times like this that I really want to escape to my happy place. You’d never guess where that is? (No, it’s not partying in the bathroom while the 6 month old sleep in the hotel room, but that was a fun memory…) My happy place is my blog. It’s the escape I get when things just are too .... real.. in real life.