I'm a well-documented recovering control freak. I love nothing more than a well-worn pattern, a comfortable sense of expectation. Spontaneity? Sure, as long as it's carefully planned. Just BEING is something I've been trying to perfect for a while now. (See what I did there? Because being is about the moment... and you can't perfect...... Continue Reading →
I've got a long history of martyrdom. Not in the heroic, up-in-flames kind, either. Nope. Just the kind that chooses misery and suffers (mostly) silently for it. What the hell, right? It's a bit murky, even for me. But I think it goes something like this: If I choose to do something that I don't... Continue Reading →
Somehow, I beguiled the 9 year old into taking a run with me yesterday. Well, actually, it was more like a directive: Put on your running shoes. Do not lay on the floor and cry like last time. That will not work this time. Pull it together, Tina, and let's go. (Yes, we totally call... Continue Reading →
Growing up, our family folklore contained a whole mess of cautionary tales against being ruined. The word got repeated so often, I can still hear its South Georgia pull in my head, feel the loss behind it. Ruination focused on one thing: loss and the inability to move past it, to eventually be able to... Continue Reading →
Jane has developed a slight listening problem lately. Don't be alarmed. I'm sure it's not permanent. Symptoms include not hearing me tell her to do something the first (second or third) time, an inability to cut that shit out when I tell her to, and a profound misunderstanding of what "put your stuff AWAY" means.... Continue Reading →
I try to approach life with gratitude. I think Oprah told me to do that once, and I listen to Ms. O. Also, the AAers may have mentioned it.... So, yeah, Attitude of Gratitude over here. The gratitude portion of today's programming goes something like this: I am grateful that my body is healthy and... Continue Reading →
I want to control the narrative that my kid receives about sex. And I CERTAINLY don't want her friends explaining it to her...
What I eat does not define me. It does not make me "good" or "bad." We're selling ourselves short to think otherwise.
What's a kid to do when her parents move her from one neighborhood to another--which means starting a new school?!? Watch as our intrepid second grade hero navigates these treacherous waters.
Know what grace looks like for me? It looks like reckoning with a 1000 piece puzzle. It looks like family. It looks like gratitude.
