So confession time: I am a serial watcher of behind-the-scenes videos, bloopers, interviews, Wikipedia entries and essentially anything that gives me the assembly line scoop of a movie/show I fall in love with. My husband mocks me about this relentlessly. Because if fall in love with something, chances are, I am going to know its third most important actor’s first pet’s name. Continue reading
Before my daughter was born and we didn’t know her gender, we used to refer to her as “it”. After she was born, the pronoun stuck and we began calling her “it” when we wanted to imply that she was acting like a beastly creature.
When she was down for a nap in her room, my husband would stick the baby monitor in my face and say, “It’s awake”.
When she would pee on me: “It hates you”.
When she would throw a tantrum: “It’s losing its shit”. Continue reading
Time flies. Time is money. Time is of essence. Time is ticking. Sands of time. Time waits for no one. What time is it anyway?
We kill time. We make time. It can be a good time or a bad time. There is quality time, and there is a quantity of time. Time is a product, a tangible thing it seems.
And to raise a child is to understand the paradigm of time. Mainly because children are predisposed to give less of a shit about time then a bird with an imminent bowel movement does about your car. Continue reading
Recently I was having coffee with a friend whose son is my daughter’s age. She said to me, “I don’t know if this makes me a bad mom or something…” here she dropped her voice to a whisper, “but I am so happy to drop my kid off to daycare on Mondays.”
I laughed. Then I told her that I do a drive-by drop off on Mondays. A drive-by drop off is when you slowly drive by your child’s school, roll down your windows and hurl your child out into the waiting arms of the teacher, and yell, “See ya later bitches!!” and then put on your sunglasses and crank up the volume on Drake. Continue reading
I am an accountant.
It’s an exhilarating and exciting job. Everyday, I have key decisions to make like what color to choose for my spreadsheet report. Which file folder do I use? Which color stickies do I select? It’s almost as unpredictable and creatively satisfying as being Beyoncé. Continue reading
You are the apple of your parents’ eyes. They love you unconditionally. They have tucked you in and kissed your boo-boos. They have ooh-ed and aah-ed at each one of your accomplishments. They love you more than they love anyone else. Continue reading
I don’t think I can go on much longer talking about parenting without talking about who I am doing this with. You know, the ying to my yang, the thread to my needle, the mashed potatoes to my gravy, the fish to my chips, the chocolate syrup to my brownie. Mmmm….brownies…urghghghh. Wait, what was I talking about? Continue reading