*Originally written for Mother’s Day, 2013 My mom tended to make things up. Not lie. Fill in gaps. Pad. Fabricate.People said more passionate, endearing things in her memory. I was near enough to hear her meet a boy she used to help as a school-aid 20 years ago. She was tired, they only talked…
Now, I’m not even counting the seventy or so Disney movies you’ve forgotten ever existed, like Davy Crockett and the River Pirates or Squanto: A Warrior’s Tale. I’m also not touching on those dismal live-action debacles that somehow sustained Disney through the 60’s and 70’s (excluding the masterpieces Escape to Witch Mountain, Freaky Friday, and The Parent Trap, which were genius,…
Last night, after drinking gallons of watered down apple juice and milk, LE pushed her small belly against the fabric of her nightgown. It rounded out and sloshed. “Mama,” she said, with true sadness, “I look fat.” It had the effect of a starting pistol, cleaving the uneasy anticipation and sending me on a…
My daughter is obsessed with why everyone’s house is better than ours. When I tell her “Yes, but ours in paid for! And we have wall to wall laminate!” she isn’t impressed.I tell her the truth.“Well, most of your friend’s parents make more money that we do. So we have a smaller house! But it’s…
I once read a post where a woman told how her husband and smirked at and belittled her blogging. He described it (I’m paraphrasing) as a an emotional circle jerk, where women just sit around taking turns whining and praising each other. The lady who wrote it was really hurt. She was hurt because…
“Mom? Do grown up’s bottoms get wrinkles? From the water? Like fingers?”I stand up from the slight stoop I was in to towel off my hair after switching places in the shower with LE. I consider the lovely view of my dimpled rear my daughter has been observing from the floor of the shower, and I say, “Yes.…
Fine. I’m that woman. I am. I’m the one standing in my front yard (which, until a month ago was overgrown and absolutely shimmering with weeds) yelling vulgarity across the neighborhood cuz my damn dog ran off. I’m bra-less and my baggy shirt has smushed baby breakfast bar on it. Not today’s breakfast bar. Not yesterday’s, actually. I’m wearing pajama…
You’d think being responsible for someone else’s life would make you really uptight, but it has the opposite affect. You spend your days tending to someone else’s feces. In the before-time, you could enjoy the luxury of disgust, and silly fears. It was an indulgence, you know, to run screaming and flapping around when you saw a spider.…
A “Sodomite” isn’t just a person who enjoys putting their penis in or around someone else with a penis. Historically, a Sodomite is so much more. *(I wrote this in I think…2008? for a friend’s marriage equality campaign. Another friend just dug it up and sent it to me. I’m naughty, but I still think…
When you look at yourself in the mirror, your brain smooths out the reflection for you. It automatically smears Vaseline over the lens of your mind and what you see is familiar, workable, fine. Every woman carries a gauzy camera lens and soft lighting in the toolbox of her mind. But then those surprises. Tagged…
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