Summer “break” began six days ago, and for my 7-year-old daughter, that means more time to read and play Harry Potter. She would scold me for saying “play,” because this is real life; it’s not a game. And after today’s Harry Potter pentathlon, I can assure you, it is for real. Read More
I am embarking on a personal mission – to kick out “busy” and “fine” from my casual interactions. So, if you ask me how I am, you will no longer receive these robotic responses. Instead, you will receive an earful of truth. Because while everyone is busy, no one is fine; and in the end, neither word means anything anymore to anyone. Read More
As soon as the baby goes down for her nap, it’s time to be “productive.” Unload the dishes. Switch the laundry. Reply to emails. Place an order on Amazon. Sweep up the never-ending sea of crumbs under the dining room table. Prep dinner. Pack afternoon snacks. I have approximately two hours before she wakes up, at which point I will struggle to extract her from the house to pick up her siblings from school.
Why is taking care of children not productive? Why does it eat into worthwhile and necessary activities and chores? And am I the only one who just noticed how fucked up that is? Read More
If you have dealt with this scourge to humanity, then your nerves are flashing on high alert. If you’re lucky enough to have avoided the insanity-provoking critters from infesting your children’s hair, then you can just think back to your childhood of school lice checks, smelly shampoo, and possibly a too-short haircut. Whether or not you have nuked the little fuckers on your precious babies’ hair or resorted to bribes you thought were beneath you just to comb them out, your scalp is likely itching just thinking about them. Read More
This piece of writing was inspired by the following quote by Elisabet Sahtouris, and was written sitting alongside the amazing women in The Intuitive Writing Project’s women’s class.
“Caterpillars chew their way through ecosystems leaving a path of destruction as they get fatter and fatter. When they finally fall asleep and a chrysalis forms around them, tiny new imaginal cells, as biologists call them, begin to take form within their bodies. Read More
The “Now” – this evening, this moment – is a good place, a contented space, which I must admit is quite miraculous. Earlier today there were several unsettling moments – morning temper tantrums, the non-stop mist that turned my hair into a substance resembling a cotton ball (and I HATE cotton balls), a substitute children’s librarian that led a crap storytime, the guilt of parking illegally at the synagogue while I picked up my preschooler, somehow failing at dinner with an Arizmendi pizza. And who the fuck fails with an Arizmendi pizza?! Apparently I do when the pizza of the day has poblanos and potatoes and I have three picky-ass children. Read More
It has started. Started big time. Moms of older kids will nod, sigh, and smirk – trying to remember that time before. The time before the children fought. Constantly fought. With words. With fists and kicks. With the power to annoy. Is this really what life is going to be like for the next 15 years, until only one of them remains under my roof?
They fight over what music to listen to, what show to watch, what book to read, which Legos to build, whose stuffy this is, whether or not said stuff is an actual Beannie Boo, who sits next to mom, who sits closer to mom, who sits on mom – and that was just this morning before school. Read More