If it weren’t for my husband’s need to hold a clicker and constantly bounce around channels we would have long ago cut the cable cord and watched television programming strictly through a service like Netflix or Hulu. As it is,...Read More
My bed is next to my closet and the doors of the closet are all mirrors. So, nearly every morning, I wake up and the first thing I see is my own reflection. And let me tell you, it’s a sobering way to start the day.
Now, to be sure, there are some days that I see my reflection and my eyes are all full of sleep and haze and I think, “Damn. Look how cute I am!”
But most days, I see my cheeks sagging pillow-ward, my breasts sliding precipitously into the mattress, and my stomach (when I’ve kicked off the covers) looking like dough that’s risen past the confines of the pan. And I think, “Damn! What the hell happened to you?” READ MORE
I used to work.
Nope, scratch that, I still work (it’s just not in an office anymore, but more on that later).
What I mean is, I used to have a typical 7:30am-4pm J-O-B, the kind that included an actual paycheck and benefits. I was your typical “working mother”. Waking up at 5am while the baby still slept so I could sneak in a shower. Waking her up from dreamland, nursing her before getting her dressed for daycare, gulping down my morning cup of coffee whilst semi-watching the news on CNN. No matter how early I woke up, I inevitably always felt rushed leaving the house with my to-do list dancing around in my brain: Did I grab my purse? Did I make enough bottles? Did I leave the garage door open? Shit, I left my coffee on the counter. READ MORE
I think we’re good parents most of them time, great parents some of the time. But other times, we just suck. Here are two examples of our less than shining moments in parenthood. Keepin’ it real. READ MORE
You are my favorite season of the year, and I’m sad to see you go. I keep trying to convince you to stay, but apparently I “repulse you in swimwear.” Whatever. I still love you because you give me an excuse to wear flowy dresses that hide my stomach fat.
Not only do they hide bulges, the dresses allow me to get away with not wearing Spanx, which makes me more pleasant to others. I’m far happier when I’m not scratching my crotch every five seconds and whining that my ribs are breaking from the force of nylon. Thanks for that. READ MORE