The Tyrant picks her battles, and we both learn about karma.

The Tyrant won’t clean her room. It’s infuriating, and baffling. When I’m afraid it’s infested with something, I clean it for her, and organize everything properly, and explain to her how straightening her room for 10 minutes a day is all she needs to do. “Okay, Mom!” she’ll say happily, because she likes when her room is clean. And then, I swear, like two hours later, she’s lounging around in a crack den. Last week, under the detritus covering herRead more

Bernie Sanders came to my house, and he slept under the covers.

Every weekend I visit the rescue dogs at Pet Supermarket as a test of willpower. This is a secret, except sometimes I make one of the children come in case he/she so falls in love with a pup that I HAVE to take it home. This might sound familiar because this is exactly the way we acquired Yobe the Rescue Dog, and afterwards Hot Firefighter Husband made me promise to never ever do that again. I didn’t exactly promise but I conceded thatRead more

Tropical Storm Colin’s lackluster debut, and Teddy might be a homeowner soon.

Hurricane season has begun, and for the first time since I’ve lived in Florida, my dad hasn’t called to ask about our storm evacuation plan. I miss that call, even though we had the same plan every year: pack up the kids and the dogs and start driving, and leave Hot Firefighter Husband on duty to rescue the crazies who stay put. No hurricanes have formed yet, but we are currently in the middle of Tropical Storm Colin and fresh out ofRead 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

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

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

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

Fake bandages, and other healing tools

Teddy was injured in a freak accident yesterday. After an impressive flight across the room, he landed awkwardly in the dog’s water dish, which was empty of course because I’m the only person on the planet who cares about hydrating our dogs. The Tyrant diagnosed Teddy with a broken leg. A compound fracture, in fact. She used masking tape, paper towels, a Swiffer pole, and a stool to create an elaborate hospital scene involving a cast, traction, and bedsheets. MotivatedRead more

Ash Wednesday, Adam and Eve, and dirt.

Last month, Hot Firefighter Husband tried to eat super-healthy. He counted calories and downloaded food apps onto his phone, and wouldn’t even drink with me. I was all, what? Are you trying to ruin my life? One day I bought him some ice cream and held it under his nose after dinner until he ate it. Then we were both happy. This story might sound familiar. That’s because it’s essentially the tale of Adam and Eve. Man is good, womanRead more

The Tyrant turns 7. But enough about her.

What a difficult week for the Pterodactyl. We sold his house, despite the following comments: You’re selling our memories….I feel like I was born here…..I’m not moving. I’ll just live with the people who bought it….What will make you change your mind? If I behave?……Would you rather be poor, or right? I have no idea what that last statement means, but of course I’d rather be right. The FOR SALE sign was in the yard when he came home fromRead more