Navigating life as a (second)wife, (step)mom, and (frazzled)bear with inappropriate laughter and near-perfect hindsight.
It was just a few weeks ago that a friend of mine called to chat and suggested that she run away from home with no forwarding address. Been there, thought that. Who hasn’t? We can all admit an urge to flee from our children occasionally, can’t we?
When I decided to write a book three years ago, I wasn't kidding (although I did think it would only take a minute). You are never too old for new goals.
I'll be dedicating my next glass of wine to animal care workers. And also the one after that. And the next.
Deer, raccoons, and other reasons why I have rescinded this year’s application for “Favorite Parent.”
Years ago, when I first heard the term Pancake Child, I thought it was funny in a tongue-in-cheek kind of way. The reference is to that primary pancake poured onto a griddle as a test run to see if all is in working order.
We are failing an entire population while we bicker over bullets. Admittedly, it is easier to point to the weapon than to expose failures in our own homes.
I don’t mean to brag, but I did finally learn to cook. When I first moved in with my instant family, I would look at whichever box I pulled out of the pantry and think, “Okay, serving size, 4oz…so…what, make four of those?”
A year ago at this time, we hadn’t yet found out that our child had essentially dropped out of her life. Today, we are preparing to send her out of the nest again and we are hitting all emotions.
My kids are gross. I don’t even care. Well, I mostly don’t even care. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to the 5% of me that still gets bowed up at the pure “ick” of teenage hygiene.
I’m going to write a bit about the recent move by our school district to reject our state’s mandate on policies regarding its transgender students. I know this can be a hot spot for some and I know that my thoughts do not always match up with the rest of the world, BUT, we’ve gotten … Continue reading The Man-don’t