Can we talk about penises for a sec? They are central to conversations: “Did you pee? Where does it hurt? Do we still have that powder? You have to wear pants. OK fine, you have to wear underwear. Yes, it is funny when you shake it like that. Don’t shake it like that at me. Yes, awesome that you can pee in an X when you stand together around the toilet. Yes, that is team-work. Is the seat down? It’s caught in WHAT? No, I did not know it could…
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I grew up in a home with people who SAVE things. Like, I am talking ALL. THE. THINGS. In fact, so many things that they are now making their way back to my home; I am now the owner (again) of a New Kids on the Block 1989 Hangin Tough Tour t-shirt, a bin of assorted naked Barbies and rad clothes, a box of cassette tapes (oh HEY BANGLES!), pots and pans, yearbooks, candles, frames… I could go on and on. To be fair, we’re not talking TLC level Hoarders,…
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Remember grocery shopping before kids? I mean, it was a thing I completely took for granted; strolling the aisles with my list, taking my time, considering ingredients, being graceful to other shoppers “oh no please, you go first, I’m in no rush.” This was even true when I had one small baby who would coo and babble, woo-ing strangers aisle after aisle while snuggling against my chest in his organic, freshly-washed baby carrier. Bless. Now? Grocery shopping with kids goes from wistful “this won’t be so bad” to “I AM…
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Every summer for the last few years my best girl cousins and I have taken a long weekend trip to Las Vegas. None of the three of us are particularly into gambling, partying, muscled men in fireman strip outfits or bright lights much past 10 pm. But there’s something that has become so MAGICAL about Las Vegas for the three of us. In fact, last summer when we couldn’t go (cause one of us had to go ahead and have a baby, ugh; j/k he’s perfect) it was like some…
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Ok sisters, I am about to get really, actually real here. I cannot sugar coat. I cannot paste on one more smile. Join me, won’t you? Today, in this moment, in this season of parenting, I cannot. I don’t know if it’s their ages or me and my new-found freedom in being a single woman trying on so many new things for size—but tonight, I realized that I do not like being “Mommy”. Not right now. My littlest is currently in his bed screaming that he wants his “Mommyyyyy!!!” and…
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