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

FUCK IT and the terrible death of a girl I knew

Since we’ve last been in contact, I turned 52 years old. Hot Firefighter Husband and the children gifted me with the Miracle Worker Anti-Aging Repair Kit, because why not? “Go put it on right now!” exclaimed the Pterodactyl excitedly. So I had to be all, IT DOESN’T WORK LIKE THAT! and WOW, WHAT A GREAT PRESENT! and ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? WHO THOUGHT THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA? I really don’t need anything spectacular for my birthday. I’d be happy toRead more

Homework. Let me tell you where to put it.

The homework fairy visited again last night. His handwriting is as messy as the Pterodactyl’s, which is how we get away with it. Or maybe we don’t get away with it. I don’t care either way. I thought I didn’t like homework as a kid, but that’s nothing compared to how much I hate it as an adult. If you are a teacher, please accept my apologies for all the different ways I might offend you here. But honest to Socrates, if youRead more

ARE YOU HAVING A BABY? WOW! Congrats. And good luck. Or vice-versa.

People continue to get pregnant despite the overwhelming trauma of being a parent. It’s baffling. And once their adorable round bellies are poking out and they’ve developed that champagne-like glow, the rest of us are all Congratulations! How exciting! Do you know what you’re having? Do you have names picked out? Because what else can we say? If they’re still thinking of names, I always throw out Satchel. The only reason I’d consider another kid is to name it Satchel. ButRead more

WARNING: Parenting rant ahead. Dear Sperm Bank: This isn’t what we ordered.

Once upon a time, an Ohio woman and her same-sex partner decided to start a family. The woman – Jennifer Cramblett – became inseminated with a sperm from a blond-haired, blue-eyed donor the couple had specifically chosen so everybody could look all match-match. While pregnant, they decided to purchase some more of that sperm so that Cramblett’s partner could later be inseminated, too. That’s when they discovered that WHOOPS, HOLY MOTHER OF LABORATORY EJACULATIONS, Cramblett had been accidentally impregnated with an AfricanRead more

A Facebook challenge I’ll do. On my terms, of course.

No one challenged me to dump a bucket of ice water on my head, which I can barely believe. Don’t do it now; the moment has passed. Anyway, I’m so bad at these weird pseudo-obligations. My cousin Mary tagged me on Facebook to do a gratitude challenge – I was supposed to name three things for which I’m grateful for five days straight. I did two days. That’s pathetic. I just forgot, honestly. But damn, if that’s not symptomatic – IRead more

Parenting emergencies and yellow jackets

Hot Firefighter Husband and I co-own a business called Advanced Cardiac Training that provides CPR and CPR-related classes to people needing certification. He and his partner and his partner’s wife started the company and decided I should be president and the other wife should be vice-president. That was okay. I like being the boss, especially the kind of boss who just shows up occasionally to steal office supplies and pick up a check. But now Husband makes me teach actualRead more

Project PB&J, concluded. Fascinating!

You may be aware of the semi-sociological experiment I’ve been monitoring in my car. To summarize: on Saturday, May 24, I made a PB&J sandwich for my daughter and wrapped in a paper towel, and gave it to her to eat on a long car ride. She never ate it, and it sat there. For days. Then weeks. I watched the sandwich carefully to see who might notice and throw it away. Hot Firefighter Husband took my car for an entire afternoon, andRead more

An evening bike ride with the Tyrant

It was beautiful evening for a bike ride. I decided to pedal over to our old neighborhood to pick up the coffee delivery that Hot Firefighter Husband had sent to our old address. It’s maybe a 2-mile ride. I asked the Tyrant if she wanted to come. “SURE!” she said. With enthusiasm! Like she’d been waiting her whole life for this kind of opportunity. It might have been the longest 45 minutes in history. Here’s an approximate transcript: Are you ready, Mom? Are youRead more

Body image, deadlifting, bisexuality. That’s how I roll.

Did you see this year’s Sports Illustrated Swimsuit issue? No? Me neither. Hot Firefighter Husband won’t let it in the house. He doesn’t want our kids to see it, and he does’t want the girls in particular to see their mother swooning over it. It’s true! I love looking at those perfect bodies! (Note to self: explore possible bisexuality at next therapy appointment.) I also habitually compare myself to the models, and this drives Husband crazy. “Those women are freaks.Read more