Foisting Childhood Regrets Like a Boss

I spent my whole childhood standing around uncomfortably. Waiting for people to notice. Never asking for what I needed. Just standing. Ostensibly to avoid being a bother. But becoming more bothersome in my silence. Today, when it was my kid’s turn in line, simultaneously all adults got distracted. She froze, triggering the moments I’d beenContinue reading “Foisting Childhood Regrets Like a Boss”

Wistfulness

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 “Wistfulness”

Let’s Talk. Period.

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 secondContinue reading “Let’s Talk. Period.”

No Slut-Shaming Here

Sunday morning, the (almost) 10 year old and I puttered about the kitchen. As coffee flowed freely from its pot into my waiting mug, I heard a tentative “Mommy?” I looked up at my child who was peering at me with a look of concern (and maybe a little gentle reproach). “Um… I think youContinue reading “No Slut-Shaming Here”

Being a Girl in the World…

When I was a kid, being a woman seemed like some sort of secret, mystical state that one entered into when they were, say, 16 or 17. Like maybe I’d go to sleep an awkward adolescent kid and wake up graceful, beautiful, and smelling like Estee Lauder Youth Dew. Who really knew how it wouldContinue reading “Being a Girl in the World…”

Maybe My Words Get Lost In Space

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 “Maybe My Words Get Lost In Space”