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

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

A new CrossFit gym, fallen heroes, and working out for a reason

Did I mention we’ve joined a new CrossFit gym? It’s called the Black Hive, so now I’m a member of the Hive. #badassish Hot Firefighter Husband and I are the oldest people working out there by about a hundred years, which is sort of awesome because people look at us like DA-AMN, I hope I’m like that when I’m old. Which we are not. But you know how silly those young hipsters can be. Also, there’s some sort of unwritten rule at theRead more

Buddy the Wonder Dog earns his keep, even at CrossFit. Also, shoes.

Today is National Cherry Turnover Day. There are 1,000 varieties of cherries in the U.S. If you can prove that you care less than I do, I will give you a grape. And yesterday was National “Just Because” Day,  which I am not making up. I have a whole list of stuff I want to do JUST BECAUSE – starting with hanging out solo for more than the time it takes to pee, which I hardly ever do by myself anyway. I’mRead more

Food, Inc., My-Left-Hook style. What we’re not eating this time.

When the Pterodactyl was a toddler, he’d often wake during the night screaming like his head was on fire. He sounded like – duh – a baby pterodactyl. Trying to soothe him was futile; he flailed and wailed, his brown hair slick with sweat as he tried to climb out of his mental pit of despair. Hot Firefighter Husband whispered sweet calming words that floated up into oblivion: It’s okay, darling, we’re here…It’s Mommy and Daddy….Shhh, shhh, we’ve got you…..and I heldRead more

The Attachment Chronicles: Part I of the next phase

My little boy has triggers, mostly related to his little sister, who continues to ruin his life by existing. Often I can anticipate oncoming tantrums and work to avoid them. For example, the Tyrant this morning asked me to watch her do a bike trick, and so I knew that the Pterodactyl was scrambling to do a bike trick, too, and that I must stay outside to watch him, even if a swarm of wasps had been encircling my head.Read more

Buddy’s sock fetish causes bodily harm.

Saturday morning dawned with a familiar sound. BLUCK. BLUCK. BLUCK. BLOOP. That is Buddy the Wonder Dog throwing up a sock. After the first BLUCK, I was at Buddy’s side, soothing him, moving cloth items out of BLUCKing range. I was already off in search of paper towels when Hot Firefighter Husband rolled over and said, “Honey? Buddy’s throwing up.” In the mess I found a pink ankle sock. The Tyrant! Damn her habit of stripping down wherever and throwingRead more

Dear Savvy Sister: HELP ME HELP MY KID! Also, I need a tissue.

Dear Savvy Sister, What do you do when you ask your 13-year-old kid if he eats lunch with anyone at school, and he tells you no, because when he sits at a table, no one will sit near him?  Besides weep, I mean. Complicating the matter is a school rule that boys and girls cannot sit together at lunch. I think he might feel comfortable sitting with some of the girl students, and they would be comfortable with him.  IRead more

The boy and boobs in the Big Easy. Not my boobs, though.

New Orleans is THE city for the Pterodactyl, mainly because of the liberal scattering of boobs. Regular boobs, cartoon boobs, enormous voluptuous boobs, painted boobs. Blue boobs. We walked through the French Quarter the other day, and he was agog. He kept tugging on his little sister’s sweater, screeching, “OH MY GOD, LOOK AT THAT ONE!” Then I had to be all, Don’t say God! Say gosh! “So I guess he’s not gay,” someone said. Because gay men have noRead more

The Attachment Chronicles: Part I of an update

The Pterodactyl turned nine yesterday. He’s nine, going on six. You know what that means, right? HE’S GROWING UP! It seems like just yesterday he was refusing to share a 1-lb. bag of Starburst. Oh, wait. It really was just yesterday. Still – he is showing signs of one day being able to accept disappointment and change without triggering the DESTRUCT DESTRUCT button in his brain. He understands that he can and should control his explosive anger – previously, IRead more