OK. Here we go. Just crank up the throttle. Wait for it. Wait for ittttt. There she goes. There she….sputters. This, the snail of all throttles, is akin to slapping an Accelerate button on some crooked crutches. Looks like .0001 miles-per-hour is all she’s good for. On one hand, maybe it’s good this is so… Continue reading The Tick & The Tock
The smell of lilac and Bengay floating through the air. This air, confused as all visitors, is warm and stagnant, unable to breathe or roam without the swift kick of an air conditioner. Floral patterns hug plaid and hold hands with toile. The pale blue carpet wags its shags atop and in between your toes, offering comfort and coziness that… Continue reading Be Nice or Leave…and with that I’ll make my exit.
“An inability to stay quiet is one of the conspicuous failings of mankind.” -Walter Bagehot I’m wearing slick socks to ensure a definite lack of creaking floorboards, I’ve turned off the television much to the dismay of my pint-sized president of The Mickey Mouse Fan Club of America, and I’m whisper typing these sentences despite my ritual of singing… Continue reading A Piece of Quiet
My kid is better than all kids. This thought, stuffed full of ego and superiority and such, has kept me sane throughout my first year-and-then-some as a mother. I’ve secretly delighted in the whoop-ass shaming local toddlers cast upon their frazzled mamas in parking lots and sandwich shops, public restrooms and detergent aisles.… Continue reading blame it on the juice
One of the unforseen perks of this motherhood gig was the ability to deflect all gross and unladylike behavior. I revel in these magical days when my kid cannot verbally defend himself. What follows is an account of how one mom, in all her poopy, dirty, tardy glory, can blame any and every unflattering and… Continue reading Murp: The Stinky Mom’s Guide To Smelling Like A Rose