Can we talk about crying for a minute? I am a top-notch Olympic crier, but I am also world class ashamed about it.
Like if I am moved to tears watching something in public, I fuh-reeze. I become a crying possum. I just let the tears do their thing until my face is a Seattle windowpane then pull my sweater down over my fists and do a lightning fast face-wipe like "NOT TEARS. Fuck you, YOU'RE crying."Read More
Everywhere we go, everyone who hasn’t seen Stella in the last few months coos, "Oooh, her hair is getting so long.”
I struggle with my answer. Do I say with pride and good posture, "Thank you. It's amazing what happens when working Moms don’t make time to take their kid to the hairdresser."Read More
How old was your kid when they first dropped some verbally delicious profanity?
We had a good run. Stella bust out her first curse word last week at the ripe old age of 4 and a half. In my first column for Hello Creative Family I share all the blue details. (Have you checked the HCF site out yet? It's so crafty and clever. They clearly do not know I have never even glued googly eyes onto a pipecleaner. Please don't tell.)
Come September, I have a kid in kindergarten. We have no idea how she's going to get there, if they'll let her eat 3 cheese strings and 16 marshmallows for lunch, or if her Little Mermaid ballgown is appropriate attire, but it's happening. It's all happening.
What I do know is that she will be entering into a French Immersion Program. I feel no qualms or nerves or butterflies about that decision. If you want to know why, I wrote all about it for my friend The European Mama's handsome and wise website.Read More