I remember the very early days of motherhood as endless and exhausting. I had this gorgeous baby that I’d worked so hard to bring Earthside. And she had so. many. needs. She was an easy baby, I suppose. As if that is even a thing. But it is humbling and terrifying to realize that much... Continue Reading →
Her palm-sized mary janes pump back and forth, each leg secured in a square hole, holding on to the bar, examining me carefully. I smile behind my mask and wave. Then I lose the thread. Her tenuous attention shifts. I’m alone in the checkout, suddenly mourning my daughter’s toddlerhood. Hard, long hours. Battles of wills.... Continue Reading →
No one talked periods in my house growing up. Here's what I remember: being about 8 years old and climbing around in the backseat while we were making the never-ending drive from South Florida to North Florida to visit my grandparents (y'all, Florida is an exceptionally l-o-n-g state. Those drives went on until the second... Continue Reading →
The pull to a specific place has occupied my thoughts for the better part of 5 years now. This idea of place as a piece of who we are is what drew me to Atlanta. This city called me until I could no longer ignore it. I had to be here, in a way that... Continue Reading →
In the evolution of parenting, we've recently entered the tween zone. It's a strange land, filled with Caboodles, lip gloss, ill-applied blush, and an obsession with all things unicorn and glitter. It's a liminal stage. For us and our 9 (and a half) year old. There are things to be celebrated, for sure: a newfound... 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 →
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 get real quippy about my anxiety sometimes. Because it's easier to be glib and light-hearted about anxiety than to admit that sometimes it threatens to suck all the air (and joy) out of my world. And, also... I'm fortunate that, over the years, people (qualified, professional people) have given me tools to cope with... Continue Reading →
Elizabeth Jane (Lizard, Lizzie Jane, Janiepants, Bug, Bear, EJ, Chicken, Monkeybutt Jr, etc...) is 8 years old today!
I want to control the narrative that my kid receives about sex. And I CERTAINLY don't want her friends explaining it to her...
