When I send these columns in to the Editress in Chief, I never know which section I’ll fall into when they lay out the issue, nor how many words my little corner will accommodate for a title. So I include a couple of alternative headlines.
More accurately, early on in my illustrious community columnist career . . . → Read More: The Vomit Broke Me (OS:S in the E-T on the 03/02/14)
This right here?
This is my life.
They are my greatest loves.
In the early morning hours, I lay awake making lists of the things I need to do for my family or our businesses during the day; marveling at the chronology . . . → Read More: The Nuthouse, in a Nutshell
Specifically, as of today: 19w3d.
This is the farthest we’ve made it in a pregnancy since The Four-Why-Oh was gestatin’.
Which should bring me a lot of comfort. Excitement even.
And in some ways, it does.
But for the most part, . . . → Read More: What Multiple Losses Do
Either it’s been slowing settling in for me or I’ve just become increasingly ready to admit it:
In an variety of ways, I’ve been on pause since about December 4, 2009.
That day, December 4, 2009, was the day on which the forward progression of my idea of our . . . → Read More: Unpausing
“Mommy, there’s a Cheerio stuck in my nose.”
“There’s a Cheerio stuck in my nose!”
Looking, seeing nothing unexpected, “No there’s not.”
“I fink there is.”
Thinking this is related to the phantom splinter I removed from her foot this morning, or . . . → Read More: So Much for the Breakfast-for-Dinner Plan
Mom’s Night Out: some months, quite possibly the only thing that keeps me on the side of the camera that says hiking across two parking lots at 10:00 pm, to McDonald’s, in my pink bathrobe, is really not acceptable.
Also: some months, most definitely the thing that gets . . . → Read More: What I Mean When I Tell The Husband “Mom’s Night Out is a Necessity”
. . . answering a plea for potty assistance by scurrying out of the shower, dripping water across the floor, helping her climb up and down, complimenting her big-girlness, and then resuming the shower.
And then, three hours later, realizing that you forgot to shave the second leg.
And: not caring.
Okay, so I’m only halfway in, but it sure does seem like the age of Two gets a bum rap with all the “terrible” adjectivizing attached to it. Because Two, for all its constant busyness and chattering, is significantly more fun than the years that have preceded it. Not that Infancy and One . . . → Read More: Recurring Motherhood Theme: I Have No Idea What Is Next
This morning, I attempted to pick up where I’d left off on yesterday’s Plan To Regain Order and Control. That was probably my first mistake.
My second: Iced Caramel Macchiato No. 2, which I thought would help me hold my own against The Child Who Rises With The Sun. She will . . . → Read More: Afternoon Forecast: Melancholy with a Chance of BOOHOOHOO
See, I was planning to come over here and tell you about something. But I got all smartsy and tossed out a status update, thusly:
And do you know what happened within ten minutes of that?
. . . → Read More: The Apoocalypse