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March 2007
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May 2007

On having a boy

I wanted a girl. Oh, God. It HURTS to type that. To admit that. It's one those big secrets of motherhood that nobody ever talks about, right up there with pooping on the delivery table. That you even had a preference in the first place, much less that you had a strong preference and cried when you found out you weren't getting what you wanted. Like I did. Oh, God. And then I spent the rest of my pregnancy feeling so guilty about it and alternating between "oh shit, I'm having a boy" and "oh shit, I don't deserve to have this boy because what kind of horrible mother thinks that way?" I wanted a girl for all the normal stupid reasons -- the clothes! the hairbows! she'll be my best friend and we'll go shopping! -- and because I felt so incredibly incapable of raising a boy. A BOY.... Read more →

Letters to Grocery Stores are a Sign That Perhaps a Small Part of Your Soul Has Died

Dear Trader Joe's: FINE. You have won both the battle AND the war. I cannot deal with your wafer-thin shopping bags with the handles attached by Post-It glue. I cannot deal with begging you to double-bag my groceries, with watching the face of the perky cashier (who was just raving about your delicious store-brand pear sauce!) go dark and angry when I out myself as an earth-raping double-bagger (who does not DESERVE your delicious store-brand pear sauce!), when all I want in the world is to get my groceries to the car before the handles break off and the bottom gives and the pear sauce goes splat. I cannot quit you, Trader Joe's, and I think you know that. You know I am a hopeless yippie (huppie?) who cannot bear the thought of my child consuming partially hydrogenated oils or high-fructose corn syrup or non-organic milk. You also know that... Read more →

Where iz ur cat be at?

Several readers have expressed concerns re: Max's whereabouts. Poor Max. He is fine. And to prove his fineness, we had a little photo session in our bathroom this morning, because that's exactly the sort of classy operation we run here. He's a liar. Also smooshable and purry. He's finally at a healthy weight, and it only took eight years of dieting. And a little help from Ceiba, who figured out that Max likes to take two or three bites of food, go poop, then return and eat the rest of his meal. EVERY TIME. And no matter how many times he returns from the litter box to an empty bowl, he will not alter his poop schedule in the slightest. Then he eats Ceiba's food instead. I vaguely remember a time when I used to give a shit, but at this point it's hard to even care whether it's Noah... Read more →