Like with every other act of parenting, I put on my straight face and made things up. I saw a glimpse into the future with a toddler listening to Dashboard Confessional while crying fresh tears into his black nail polish and let me tell you one thing: Mama ain’t about all that.
Amid the turkeys crafted from toilet paper rolls, the thrilling promise of pie, and the peace-meal story of Pilgrims, I thought I’d slip some life-altering lessons to my toddler in regards to Thanksgiving. We sat last week and attempted to make a list of what he is most grateful for. Over the span of a… Continue reading Glue Sticks & A Gratitude Malfunction
One guy just straw-stabbed and shot-gunned an entire Capri Sun in ten seconds. Another dude is sloppy swallowing cupcakes way past his personal capacity. Someone tells him he’s had enough and he throws a fit like a total baby. There’s always that certain point past which each burp threatens to become barf. Some girl dances to… Continue reading Rugrat Rager & The Half-Pint Heathens
Contrary to the flat, thud design of these caveman feet, I was a dancer once. What began as an opportunity for my mother to get an hour-a-week break from my spazzing self transitioned into an hour-a-week chance for my spazzing self to put a rhythm and heartbeat behind my moves, to believe just for a… Continue reading Don’t Put Out The Fire
When people learn that my son was over 10 pounds at birth, they usually get this horrified and empathetic face about them. They speak consolatory words while inadvertently staring at my crotch. I never understood this because a push is a push. A hole is a hole, and a head is a head. But… Continue reading Oh, The Places You’ll Go! : Straight to Hell Edition