Fearless Fashion

Ridiculous Unicorn Horn Headband: $9.95 Even More Ridiculous Fake Fair Extensions: $9.49 Needlessly Politically Themed St. Patrick's Day Shirt Because I Am Insufferable: $24.95 Needlessly Cat-Themed St. Patrick's Day Leggings Because My Husband Is Hilarious: $23.95 Doc Martens Because I was Seeing The Pixies (also Weezer but was mostly there for The Pixies): $140 but the blisters are freeeeeeeee Actually enjoying a concert for the first time in God knows how long vs. of spending the entire time on the edge of a panic attack because there could be a fire or roof collapse or crowd crush so maybe I should obsessively check the exits again and map out an escape route OMG we're all probably going to die and I cannot believe people do this for fun: PRICELESS (Also priceless: Me, in general, for using a commercial format MasterCard hasn't even used in at least a decade, thus dating myself even more than the Docs and Pixies tickets EVER COULD.) Read more →


Get Her Done

Here's a thing I didn't know about depression recovery: Your to-do list is INSANE. (I suppose I should avoid using words like INSANE as a hyperbolic adjective as we all attempt to de-stigmatize mental health disorders, but that would mean I'd also have to avoid words like CRAZYPANTS or BONKERSVILLE or ZIPPITY HUMMINGBIRD BRAIN and I just don't think I can do that. I am just a girl, with GAD and a CAPS LOCK key, doing what she can.) Anyway. I've been busy. There's a lot of catching up to do and holes to fill and bridges to un-burn. You have to figure out how to prove yourself as an un-shit employee and friend, make a lot of appointments and phone calls that should've happened six months ago...or maybe just look at a piece of fuzz on the floor and think to yourself, "I am going to pick up that piece of fuzz on the floor today." And then you pick it up. And allow yourself a brief moment of pride over this perfectly mundane and tiny task, because congratulations! You're officially human-ing at a baseline level again. Tremble before me, o fearsome floor fuzz! Begone, both u and the... Read more →


i Not Robot

Now that we're up to five humans, three dogs and two cats (plus two hibernating patio toads and hopefully some patio babies), it seemed like a good time to add yet another new member to the household. This is bObi, which Ezra and Ike decided is a girl because "we need more girls for it to be fair around here." They enjoy chasing after her and feeding her various bits of trash. Noah simply calls it the Chore Robot (as in, "Chore Robot! Over here! I dropped the pencil sharpener again"), so between that and all the demands/verbal abuse our poor Alexa suffers, I am growing vaguely concerned about the patriarchal/anti-feminist future of our robot overlords. Maybe I should lend them my pussy hat. ANYWAY, you can probably imagine the pet hair situation around here, plus my children all constantly shed, but instead of hair it's just straight-up dirt. They bathe and shower nightly, we take our shoes off inside, and yet the path leading away from Backpack Mountain and Discarded Coat Canyon (aka our foyer) always looks like a goddamn dust bowl just blew through. And for the first time in a long time, it's something I 1) notice,... Read more →


Amalah Casts a Pod

In an attempt to understand the Kids Today, what with their YooToobs and SnapToks and all that jazz, I did a podcast! Do you "do" a podcast, though? I didn't record a podcast, because I just talked and other people recorded it, and it wasn't my podcast, it was my dear dear friend Amy S. Bridges' podcast, We Are Still Hungry. Amy is better known here on ye olde blob as the person responsible for That Time I Shared Fried Calamari With The Late Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia, back when my life was probably a lot more interesting and blob-worthy. Oh, and it was also Amy's friend Paula's podcast, who is now my friend because I spilled wine all over her kitchen table in an Essential Tremor-y fit and she didn't care at all, or at least was gracious enough to pretend she didn't. She also owns enviable kitchen towels and an adorable wee doggo. Anyway, we got very real about mental illness and suicidal ideations, and what it's like to live your life after attempting to end it. Also: feminism and boy children, because you know I can't go a full hour without being a radical liberal commie... Read more →


Vote Out Te Bastardes

Hi hi hi. I'm okay. I know I don't usually go that long without posting but it felt disingenuous to sit here writing about how Ike got an entire container of green Halloween slime stuck in his hair when everything else is going to hell in a reusable grocery bag and WHAT KIND OF WORLD ARE MY SLIME-COATED CHILDREN EVEN GOING TO INHERIT, PEOPLE? GET YOUR BUTTS TO THE POLLS. I voted, Jason voted, everyone we know has voted. Now there is nothing to do but wait and pray and stress-eat another package of Kraft singles. I got the slime out of Ike's hair, incidentally, with blue Dawn dish detergent, after several of the Internet's other suggestions for How To Get Slime Out Of Your Hair did not do the trick. Blue Dawn: The only thing you need to get slime out of hair and lipstick off cats. They should hire me for copywriting. We forgot to take any photos of Halloween, so you're spared that parade of awkwardness. Jason and I skipped dressing up, but Ezra and Ike made their own costumes: Ezra went as "Joey Reddabber," an original comic book character he created, and Ike dressed up as... Read more →


All Creatures Great and Weird

So. Moving on! We had Ike officially assessed for dyslexia last week, and lo and behold, he is indeed dyslexic. Classically, wildly so. I'm not at all surprised, but now we're stuck in that annoying treading water period between diagnosis and treatment. We're waiting for a spot to open up at a private reading center, and an IEP meeting with the school is scheduled for later this month. I'm not super optimistic about the services the school can offer, and while I think we've found an amazing program that Ike will respond to really well, it's intensive and face-punchingly expensive. But of course we'll do it, because OUR BABY CAN'T READ GOOD. (Does anyone have any experience with Patreon? What do y'all think of that as opposed to say, a GoFundMe or just a PayPal donate button somewhere? Basically, what's the least tacky way to blog-grift nowadays, is my question?) (I'm taking on more work from several corporate clients already, before anybody tsk-tsk about getting a "real job." I have one! I have several! Also several painful neuroses and deep-seated anxiety issues about money and finances that my therapist says are okay to just acknowledge sometimes!) Anyway, back to the... Read more →


Then ; Now

If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of self-harm or suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or text CONNECT to 741741 in the United States. I no longer recognize that version of myself. The version from the hospital, from the bathroom floor, and from long before the bathroom floor. The version who was sloooooowly being crushed under the weight of her anxiety, the one who walked around with a pained, twisted smile pretending to enjoy a conversation or activity but who was more than likely too preoccupied with arguing with some corner of her brain hissing thoughts like run, panic, window, glass, goodbye. The version who wanted to stay home, to stay in bed. For whom Jason would cautiously lock up all the Tylenol and Advil before leaving her alone. That particular safeguard started happening just over a year ago; we didn't get there overnight. The descent is slow and sneaky. I blamed my work stress, household stress, the election, that fucking garbage-haired racist buffoon, my period. There was always something I could point at and blame for why I was feeling so unsettled and unbearably anxious. (The depression, on the other... Read more →


Better Now

Quick question. No, wait. Two questions. 1) WHYYYYYY DID I BUY THEM THIS 2) How long before the batteries die a malicious early death and I can claim that oh, sorry, those are SPECIAL batteries that we don't have and need to be special-ordered and delivered via yak from Malaysia, meanwhile, why don't you leave Simon with me and also, bring me a hammer. For reasons. Unrelated. Other than the beep-borping-insanity brought on by that damn thing, I'm doing pretty well. I still hit the occasional rough patch where either the depression or anxiety spike, but since I finally have the ability to know what life feels like WITHOUT those dueling bastards, I can actually stop and recognize that okay, time for some self-care or mindfulness or deep breathing or sunshine or whatever the fuck. It's been a really, really long time since I could even tell the difference. The kids are doing really well too -- they're all such funny, matter-of-fact sorts who are just like, okay, Mom was sick but now she's getting better. She takes medicine and goes to a lot of doctor's appointments to stay better and out of the hospital. Yay Mom! I'm hoping that... Read more →


Depression Hacks

Leaving your phone charger downstairs is an excellent trick for getting out of bed in the morning. It's amazing how much better you feel after washing your face. Wunderlist is a great to-do list app where you can include "get out of bed" and "wash your face" every day and get a jolt of satisfaction when you cross that shit off. If your shoes are completely decrepit and falling apart because you've worn them almost every day for the past 15 years, you're allowed to buy yourself new shoes. You're even allowed to buy yourself new shoes just because. Remember how your baby would sleep six hours one night, then only 45 minutes the next night even though you did everything exactly the same? Remember the sleep regressions and the teething and slow dawning realization that baby sleep doesn't progress or improve on the most logical or linear path? Yeah. This is like that. And that's okay. Counter the anxiety of house or dinner guests with cleaning the everloving crap out of your house, even if it's just one or two small corners of it. Gaze at all the everloving crap you've managed to throw out with a sense of... Read more →


Scrambled Eggs

Every night, Jason would call me on the ward and put his phone on speaker so I could listen in on the familiar, boisterous chaos. He'd put the groceries away while the boys squealed and shrieked over all the new cereals and bickered over which box to open first. They'd all try to talk to me at once and the dogs would start barking and someone would say "whoops" and Jason would say "get a paper towel" and I'd sit there on the other end of the line with a big grin on my face and tears in my eyes because I missed it all so much. And then the ping of guilt, because I missed so much of it all. So many morning when I couldn't get out of bed to pour the cereal or scramble the eggs or kiss them goodbye before school. So many evenings when I was irritable and impatient and snappish, when whatever mess required the paper towel would be like, the last fucking straw. I'm done. I'm out. I can't deal with any of you right now. (And then the vicious, downward spiral of guilt, because I'm a terrible mother/wife/friend and I'm failing and... Read more →