Why is she yelling all the time?

They were 17 and 19 when I was born. They were stupid kids. I ended up being the parent more times than I could count, straws notwithstanding. 

Ok, fine. I call it back!

I can appreciate this story - but in a slightly different way. My second kid was four when she came to me out of her mind with fear - middle of the day, with no real incident to spark her worry (from my vantage point): she was sure she has swallowed a hook. A fishing hook. (We don’t fish.) I asked a million clarifying…

I read this as, “I ate soup.” I couldn’t figure out your through-line for a good while. Make a lot more sense now. 

As a wee girl (ages three to six), I was always excited to wake up the day after a party at our house because there would be stuff we didn’t usually have laying around and I had free reign over the house until my parents woke up. I especially liked to collect the red coffee straws laying about. I knew which straws I…

I couldn’t read what you posted without replying to say I’m so sorry. What a terrible, fucked-up thing to have happened.

I wish. We have the highest scores in the district and some of the highest in the state. But it isn’t the curriculum, nor is it the teaching.

My school is so standards-focused that if I don’t use the textbook, I have to jump through hoops, stand on my head and practically beg to be allowed any creativity. It’s awful. I thought I could do some good here, but it’s clear that I don’t belong. After four years in this current placement, I will either find a job…

How can he be homophobic, you guys? He has plenty of friends who are gay. Duh.

Me, three!

You poor thing. I’m a teacher, too, and am not subject to drug testing. I think the nail in my teaching-career-coffin would be the inability to partake in a responsible manner.

Ok, internet: I have a story.

I don’t care if this story is a non-story. I love knowing Malia is dancing to The Killers at Lollapalooza on a Saturday night in the summer, I love hearing the shared misery wrapped up in losing a phone. I love projecting what must have happened when she needed the username and password, imagining how…

Spaghetti and milk is how I learned spaghetti.

Fritos + tuna.
Eggs + katsup.
A cool breeze + naked skin
Ice-cold beer + sitting down after a long-ass, hot day of doing shit
Puppy belly + puppy breath
Morning coffee + complete silence
Morning sex followed by the smell of bacon, preferably on a Sunday with nothing else planned
A crisp autumn day + smell of burning leaves

I…

My friend made this for her kid once and I made fun of her. She put a spoonful in front of me, serious af, and commanded me to try it. Manna. From. Heaven.

I’ve been thinking about a new tattoo. “Reclaiming my time” just might be it.