I have amazing news for the gazillions of people who’ve told me I should write a book. I HAVE WRITTEN A BOOK. And it’s going to be published. Coming in Spring 2017 to a bookstore near you: The Place of Peace and Crickets: how adoption, heartache, and love built a family Is that the best title ever or what? I could tell you what it means, but then I’d have to kill you. KIDDING. But really. I’m not going to tellRead more


I came across a New York Times story this morning that disturbed me. About a decade ago, a Canadian woman named Angela Collins and her same-sex partner decided to start a family. So they purchased some sperm from Xytex, a Georgia sperm bank, and had a beautiful healthy child. A few years ago, Collins joined a “donor sibling” registry group and, after some digging, discovered her kid’s bio dad suffers from schizophrenia and once served time in jail. She met other parents whose childrenRead more

The State of the Tyrant, year 9.

The Tyrant is nine big years old, and has decided to play basketball for the NBA because “I just keep getting better and better, Mom.” She actually is very good. Her rebounding style could conservatively be labeled as aggressive, or more accurately as hack-like. She continues to be a magical sort of child who gives feathery kisses and is prone to saying things like, “Oh, Mom, you look so beautiful!” when I’m wearing clean workout clothes. She herself dresses strangely, oftenRead more


Every November, which is National Adoption Month, I think, OH, YEAH, now’s the time for me to write something profound about adoption! And then it’s December and I think, OH, WELL. Failed again. But this year, the Tyrant and I experienced an actual incident for me to recount. So here is your not-so-annual National Adoption Month story, a mere four days late. Really, there were two incidents. The first involved a little boy on the bus asking her if she’sRead more

Being adopted isn’t always easy for my babies.

When the Tyrant’s temper grabs hold of her senses, it’s like a rogue wave has struck the area. All must seek shelter except me, the mother, who must dive in and somehow calm the seas. She flails and throws stuff; her beloved Teddy doubles as a weapon. In this way, she’s a lot like her brother, and since both children spent the first few months of their lives in the same understaffed orphanage with little to no human interaction, we’re slowlyRead more

Vacation Chronicles 2015, the prologue. Make some popcorn.

Guess what! We’re in Maine! The annual Vacation Odyssey has begun. But first: I owe you a confirmation that we have indeed added a third canine to the family. In my head right now I’m shouting the Tyrant’s favorite refrain: I’m sorry! It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t do anything wrong! although I’m only a teeny bit sorry, and it was totally my fault, and I guess I did something wrong. Here’s how it went down. Well. You know how I am.Read more

A lot of interesting information, sometimes called an UPDATE.

“You need to update your peeps about how the manuscript is coming,” said Hot Firefighter Husband. Or he might have said, “You need to update your peeps about how the grass is growing.” The answer is pretty much the same either way, metaphorically speaking: there are some really bright patches of color mixed in with a bunch of dollar weed, and depending on the weather, it might all blend together into a nice little lawn. What? I just made thatRead more

My daughter, the immigrant.

The 8-year-old Tyrant solves her own problems. When she noticed that her feet smelled like death, she took a Michael Kors perfume stick out of my purse and rolled the scent all over her toes. I had mixed feelings about this. Even though it’s spring, she still wears her sister’s discarded Uggs, which are four sizes too big, with no socks, and she takes them off in the car, which is where we were when she stole my perfume. It was actually pleasantRead more

The Attachment Chronicles, cont’d again

The first pancake stuck to the pan. The second pancake was burnt, and by burnt I mean cooked. The third pancake smelled like popcorn. What? The fourth pancake was perfect, but needed a side of cheese omelet. He ate it all while missing the bus. But the bus makes a loop, so we caught it on the flip side. By that time, his regular seat had been taken, so I watched through the cloudy bus window as he sat uncertainly byRead more

In which Husband convinces me to care about the Superbowl

I’ve started interspersing my CrossFit workouts with yoga, so I’ll not only be prepared for the zombie apocalypse, I’ll also be very relaxed and introspective about it. In class yesterday, I was in half-pigeon pose, which everyone else slumped comfortably into, directing their drishti (GAZE in yoganics) forward, toward their purposeful selves, finding clarity and balance in their spirits. I had my eyes closed, which is against the rules, and my drishti was set on New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady, becauseRead more