We Are Raising a She-Hulk

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

Standing the Test of Time

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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

Imposter Monster

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All the colors of the rainbow in my hand

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

The Second Class Citizens Foundation

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Creeping on my mom and spawn

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

The Neanderthal I Did Not Marry

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That is an onion ring. And the disdain on his face is real.

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

Mommy’s Hips Don’t Lie (they only jiggle)

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Every morning, as I get ready, my daughter stares at me while I do my makeup. She stands next to me while I put on mascara, with one eye closed and my mouth open (because everyone knows that it’s a natural reflex to have your mouth open when putting on mascara) and some days, she asks me, “Mamma what’s that?”, and I say “Makeup” and then she says, “Why are you putting that on your face?”. Continue reading

The F-ing Milestone

Our child finally made it to a key milestone. It’s the moment every parent awaits breathlessly, keeping their eyes and ears open, hoping they’ll be around when it happens. And when it finally does, you wipe away tears because you’re suffocating on your own laughter, and will likely pop a vein in your head trying to do the “disappointed parent” face simultaneously.

Our spawn dropped the F-bomb. Continue reading