Yo ladies and gents! Are you ready for your DIY summer project? All you need is 5 minutes and a commitment to gender equity! So stop stirring your artisinal, small batch, organic playdough, and go load some locally-sourced, recycled paper into your printer. Cause we need you for the revolution. Read on. “Protagonism is Propaganda… Read More Join the feminist picture book revolution with this free tool
Typically, I wouldn’t smile after I told you this story. If I were being typical, I would finish it up with an exasperated guffaw that means, “Aren’t they insane? Don’t you just dream about being in a silent room alone, eating grapes?” But because of a particularly brilliant session with my new therapist counselor person… Read More Sidewalk candy or My son is not horrible at all
A couple weeks ago, I was doing what I usually do on a Monday morning: sitting in a room full of upholstered chairs with other allergy sufferers, applying ice packs to my arms while waiting the mandatory 30 minutes after getting my allergy shots. I often bring a book to read, but this time I… Read More I'd choose anaphylaxis over depression any day of the week and twice on Sundays
Watching your kid hit, kick, bite, headbutt, hair-pull, or in any way hurt another person is pretty much the worst. Even worse than the worst: when your kid keeps doing all that crap for months, years even, despite doing every damn thing you can think of to get it to stop. This was my kid,… Read More Is your kid a hitter, kicker, or biter? Read this.
It’s been a long time. I’ve gotten out of the habit of writing here, and my overall happiness factor has suffered as a result. This is a time when my overall happiness factor needs bolstering, given the doldrums of winter and staring daily into the belly of the beast of our current president. It’s hard… Read More On hope lying dormant, then sprouting
Well everyone, I’m on the move today. My sister and I are perched at the airport, bound for DC. Just after the election, she said, “I would be honored if you would go to the Women’s March with me.” And this is my older sister, who I will forever try to be as cool as,… Read More Women's March or Bust
On New Years Day, I sat in the hard shell of a chair at the laundromat. I alternately felt fine and so broken that I wondered if any of the other launderers could tell. Did they see how my insides trembled as I struggled to get the washing machine handle to lock? Finally, the metal… Read More Motherhood, trauma, and a washing machine