I’ll Never Be Invited to a Neighborhood Party Again

I’m a social gal; I like people. I enjoy parties, meeting new people and finger foods. I adore finger foods. But, I have anxiety when I’m going to a party where I’ll be socializing with folks I don’t know well. Which is the exactly what the neighborhood party we’d been invited to would be. I’d met most of the neighbors but usually it was a quick intro, where I couldn’t tell you their names 5 minutes later. There would be a white elephant gift exchange (Oh God, do I get…

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My Biggest Lie

I held the little pills in my hand and I broke. I’d lost the fight and was now battling a new war. With his small, trusting face looking at me, I told the biggest lie of my life, “This is safe. You will be fine. I promise.” Everything in my being screamed at me—“Liar! Horrible mother! Failure!” The day I gave my son drugs for his ADHD, was one of the hardest days of my life. I had fought against holding one of those pills in my palm for a…

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I’ll Keep Watching

They say smell is the strongest trigger of memory and I completely agree. If I close my eyes, I can still smell her. Rave hairspray, Nina Ricci perfume, slightly sweet cigarette smoke from her Virginia Slims and Tide detergent. These were the smells of my childhood. These encompass my mother. My mom was the type of woman who exuded class. She got up every morning and went through the ritual of “getting ready.” This included days where we had no place to be and days where we did not even…

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Invitation: Please Come to our Poop-Free Thanksgiving!

It’s that time of year again and our family would like to invite you to share Thanksgiving with us. I’ve tried calling and left a few messages (you guys sure are busy), so I thought I’d send an old-fashioned invite. I understand after last year, you might be a little hesitant but rest assured, we will not have a repeat of last year (my heart can’t take it!). We’d love to have you join us early in the day as I’m going to once again, have some crafts and fun…

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I Like My Mom Better When She’s Stoned

My mom has decided now that she’s 71, it’s time to say f-you to what people think and embrace the freedom that comes with being 71 and not caring. This recently included a trip to the local pot shop down the street (we’re in a state where it’s legal folks), to try out some of the edibles she’s been hearing about. I drove her there and helped her with her oxygen tank into the store. Her chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder (COPD) requires 24×7 oxygen and her rheumatoid arthritis makes getting…

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