Okay, so first of all, wait, hold up, everybody shut up for a minute. I am so deeply grateful to everybody who took the time to comment, email, or message me yesterday. It was all a bit overwhelming (although to be fair, right now everything is overwhelming, including getting out of bed and/or composing a meal more complicated than several sticks of string cheese), but it was overwhelming in a good, kind, warm-hug sort of way. I struggle more these days with how honest/confessional I should be online, now that I have at least one foot in a more professional realm, albeit one where everybody still knows my blog name. But I'm glad I just came out and said what's what. Because it fucking sucks and I need a place where I can say that, curse words and all. (IT FUCK FUCKITY FUCKFUCK FUCKER FUCKING FUCKSTICK SUCKS.) But as planned, I got out of bed yesterday, took a shower, combed my hair kind of, powdered my shiny face and even dabbed on some mascara (which I may or may not still be wearing today), and drove myself to my doctor. She listened, nodded, and got to work digging the implant... Read more →

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I felt it the minute I woke up on Monday morning. Or more specifically, I didn't feel it. I didn't feel anything. Probably not a big surprise or shocker here, but I've been struggling with my anxiety levels for awhile now. I have retyped that sentence at least 17 times, because "struggling" doesn't seem to go far enough, but alternatives like "suffering" or "practically debilitated by" seem too drama queenish. But...it's been bad, guys. On Monday, though. A switch got flipped. I woke up late vs. waking up before dawn, and instead of feeling wracked with anxiety over the day's mundane to-do list and Trump-related existential terror, I felt...nothing. Just the abyss of a depressive spiral. Not to get too gross-out personal (LOL AT THE SHIT IN THE ARCHIVES), but I first blamed my anxiety on hormones, and my super-irregular menstrual cycles. So I decided to try a birth control implant in my arm that my (NOW FORMER) doctor swore up and down had zero mood-related side effects and would eventually stop my periods altogether, like WOOT. I didn't need the birth control aspect (SNIP SNIP) but figured no bleeding or PMS sounded pretty great, let's give it a try!... Read more →

Ezra (and Bluen and Bube and Jimmy and Hobbes) had all their birthday dreams come true this weekend. Including this!! This is our friend's horse Ace. She's been offering to take the boys riding awhile now, and Ezra decided that sounded like a perfect birthday activity. To be honest, I was somewhat expecting Ezra to change his mind once he was there, live and in person with a Real Horse. And I think he was a little nervous, but not enough to hop right on and give it a try. He cut his first ride fairly short, but then after watching his brothers he decided he wanted to go again. After all, it WAS his birthday. He was much more confident the second time around. I haven't ridden a horse in FOREVER, so I broke myself in on the laziest, fattest horse in the barn. "Leisurely pace" doesn't even begin to describe it, but it was nice to realize I remember how horses work, more or less. Also, I didn't fall off and die. So, success! Noah went next. He rode therapy horses a couple times in preschool so he obviously loved this, almost as much as exploring the barn... Read more →

And now it's this one's turn to go ahead and be all huge, all of a sudden. Tomorrow is Ezra's eighth birthday. He has requested Angry Birds Legos, horseback riding and a cheesecake. It is also Bluen's birthday. She asked for a new party dress, in purple this time. It is also Bube's birthday. He wants Wonder Woman, so they can get married. Would you believe it? It's also Jimmy the Baby Bat's birthday. He wants a girl bat named Lily. Not to marry, though. They are still just babies. And of course, we can't forget about Hobbes' birthday. He wants a wooden Thomas the Tank Engine set. (Hobbes is about to hit the motherload, by the way, in the form of ALL OUR OLD THOMAS TRAINS. I thought I'd given them away, but found them in an unlabeled box last week. [I went looking once I realized there was no way I could justify spending this much money on a gift for a stuffed tiger I won from a claw machine.] We somehow managed to move the entire collection from one house to the next and not realize it. So...a return to the Isle of Sodor, anyone?) I think... Read more →

On Monday night I hit my head on a wall, split my forehead open, bled profusely all over myself, and got a concussion. REALLY GOOD WEEK OVER HERE. We were hanging out at our friends' awesome new house, a house I've been to before but have yet to fully grasp the twisty, multi-level floorplan -- I keep mistaking closets and the laundry room for the bathroom, and don't even get me started on the light switch situation, there are so many switches what do they all doooo. Half the time I just give up and pee in the dark. Which is probably what I should have done on Monday, because our friends are ASSHOLES. This is Suzy. They like to hide her around the house for maximum jump scare/creep out effect, and they get me EVERY SINGLE TIME. BAM, turn a corner and she's there, lurking in the shadows. You sit down to pee and BAM. Creeping on ya in the shower. Once again, she was hiding out in the bathroom, and once again, I was so preoccupied with finding the proper light switch that I didn't realize she was literally six inches away from my face and suddenly HERRRRREEEE'S... Read more →

Just a Little Playground Banter

Recess. I am going down the big slide with most of my class. Boys and girls together, because everyone loved the big slide. Except maybe the kindergartners, and some of the first graders, but not us. We're in third grade. As I come down, he's standing next to the slide, near the bottom. He puts his arm out, extends his fingers. His hand goes up and under my dress, between my legs. He squeezes. Hard. I get off the slide. I am immediately defiant. Screaming at him. That was a bad thing, a wrong thing. You're not supposed to do that thing. My classmates, even the boys, rally behind me, shocked and scandalized. He looks for an ally. He is angry that none of the other boys are taking his side. He tries to deny and backtrack and explain. I spin around and march off to find a grown up. Our teacher that year was a man. Mr. W. I didn't like him all that much by the end of the year -- he liked the boys better than girls, I concluded for some reason -- but early in the year I adored him and wanted nothing but his approval.... Read more →

It's hard to believe we've been in the Yellow House for over a year. Especially since there are still boxes in the basement and several closets, and approximately 4,509.023 Yellow House-related projects we were totally going to do right away, and yet here we are. All the walls are still beige or brownish beige. I despise the ceiling fans with the force of a million ugly ceiling fans turned up to high. I still haven't replaced the super dark velvet sadness curtains in our bedroom. Framed art and photos sit propped against walls where I MIGHT want to hang them, but am still not emotionally ready to commit to a nail hole. Other than that, the house is very lived in and homey, by which I mean cluttered and messy as fuck. Not like, gross messy (unless we're talking about the boys' bathroom but WE DON'T SPEAK OF SUCH THINGS), but just...kid messy. Five people who tend to set objects down and wander away from them and three pets who all have a lot of toys/scratching posts/pet beds messy. Small child who is currently obsessed with ripping up small pieces of paper and scattering them everywhere and a mother who... Read more →

Something has gone terribly amiss in our hand-me-down clothing system. Clothing size math makes me crazy, but it seems everything has collapsed due to a bad ratio of non-worn-through-the-knee pants to children-with-weirdly-similar-leg-lengths, combined with our usual oh-crap-it's-suddenly-chilly-quick-try-on-last-year's-pants seasonal unpreparedness. (The Legs Collective, back in simpler, summery-er times.) Noah's now wearing clothes long enough that they're typically destroyed before they're outgrown, greatly reducing what I can pass down to Ezra. Ike's legs are insanely long that he's practically wearing the same pants size as Ezra (who is a good head taller but super extra skinny), leading to a critical pants shortage. Ezra has attended school all week in jeans that are noticeably two inches too short, which ALSO highlights his complete lack of socks. (I mean, we have millions of socks. There are literally socks everywhere. None of the socks match, and also we are still besieged by the mysterious Zombie Baby Socks, because all I ever do is throw out or donate baby socks and yet THERE ARE STILL BABY SOCKS IN THIS HOUSE. But matching socks that fit them now? Pffft. Pipe dream. I could go buy three dozen more socks tomorrow and we'd be tapped out by Saturday.)... Read more →