My 12 year old sent me shopping to buy her an outfit for her Valentine’s Day dance. This child has not let me dress her since she was 18 months old. This is a rare privilege, brought to me by a weekend full of (minor) illnesses that kept us (mostly) at home snuggled on the... Continue Reading →
Sometimes I am more aware of my whiteness than other times. It’s a point of privilege, I realize, to be able to completely forget the color of my skin. Sometimes. It’s always a privilege, but it’s only sometimes that I forget. Other times, I am hyper aware of my whiteness and the ways that it... Continue Reading →
The first day of school is like the liquidy center of that throwback 1980s gum I always begged for as a kid. A burst of surprise on a regular weekday. Something new, a flood of possibility. Warm fluidity, everyone bound together by first day jitters and the elation of a new adventure. I can viscerally... Continue Reading →
Some kid at school "insulted" my baby by calling her "gay." And I swear, it lit me up... like I wanted to march down to that school and give that damn kid (and every adult in the vicinity of his life) a tongue-lashing he wouldn't likely forget. But instead, I took a few deep breaths... Continue Reading →
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.
When I was a kid, Field Day was my day of triumph. I got to shock people every year with the fact that I could RUN. I was fast. I guess I didn't look particularly athletic. And, to be honest, my parents didn't really push sports. And coming home dirty from school was frowned upon. So, yeah, rough & tumble wasn't really my game. Which made it even more fun to kick ass every year in the field day race.
Our daughter’s start in the world was less than traditional--conceived with donor sperm and born to lesbian parents. Then, when Jane was 4, her Bobby (Jane’s non-biological parent), transitioned from female to male. Que the crash course in gender, acceptance, and celebrating who we are—even if who we are makes us a little different.
I haven't talked to Jane about the shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School. How do you tell a 7 year old, who loves school above all else, that 17 people went in to school one morning and never came back out? How will she ever feel safe again, once she knows the truth? I... Continue Reading →
I remember her name was Chrystal*. I can remember the honey color of her hair. But I can't recall her face at all. Sometimes our minds take mercy on us, even when we are least deserving. I hated myself in middle school. A boy in my sixth grade science class told me I was ugly.... Continue Reading →
My sweet baby Jane came into the world 7 years (and 4 days) ago. I had some pretty naive ideas about motherhood then. I thought she'd never wear pink. (By day 4 she had on her first pink outfit. She hasn't turned back since.) I strongly opposed princesses and damsels-being-rescued in any format. (Jane's 4th... Continue Reading →
