5 Things People With Tidy Homes (read: not me) Don’t Do

So, for months now — MONTHS — Facebook keeps showing me the same sponsored post in my news feed. It’s by Myquillin Smith of The Nesting Place, a stunning home and garden blogger, and it’s titled 5 Things People With Tidy Homes Don’t Do. 

Now, I want to be CRYSTAL CLEAR that I have no problem with my fellow humans who keep tidy homes. I LOVE PEOPLE WHO KEEP TIDY HOMES for many reasons, the main one of which is I get to live vicariously through them. Thank goodness, because God knows I don’t keep a tidy home myself. I mean, it’s gotten better as my kids have grown older — less “filth and squalor” these days and more just “mayhem, muck, and madness,” you know? — but tidy is definitely not a word applicable to our situation. ...  read more

We’re Getting Baby Skunks Because We’re Good Americans.

Now hear this: if I can’t physically rescue baby humans from cages, I am going to rescue All the Baby Animals. 

All of them. 

Every single one.

I mean, YES, I am ALSO taking action on behalf of the small humans. But no one is letting me march into those detention centers with my wire cutters while holding a separated mommy’s hand so we can reunite her with her kid and stop this insanity, so I’m finding I need to take other actions, too. Tangible ones. To soothe this world and myself. To reduce the amount of harm. And it doesn’t hurt my mental health if those actions require me to snuggle tiny, furry creatures.  ...  read more

Someone Left an Exercise Bike on My Front Porch So I Can Do the Thing I’m Best At

Someone left an exercise bike on my front porch.

I don’t know how long it’s been there.

It just appeared sometime after I left the empty paint cans out to dry fourteen months ago, and before today, when my son decided to prove my neglected garden box is truly decrepit by ripping it from the earth and depositing it next to the front door.

F Your I,  that kid didn’t tell me he would be digging up my garden. He just left the rotting wooden frame for me as a decoration, as if to emphasize to anyone misguided enough to visit exactly how green my thumb is not. This is my kid who experiences disability and often has a hard time expressing himself verbally. This one isn’t too hard to interpret, though. I’m pretty sure he’s saying, “Guys. Guys. Guys. My mom is SO BAD at gardening, she doesn’t just kill the plants. She kills the container, too. YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BEFORE YOU KNOCK. I AM TRYING TO HELP YOU.” ...  read more

Twinsie Pics: How I Duplicated My Daughter’s Instagram Feed, Part Deux

or, alternatively titled,
How I Ended Up Topless in Hawaii…
on Not-a-Topless Beach

I’m really not to blame here. 

Hawaii’s to blame.

After all, I have terrible ideas and am historically irresponsible. A quick search of the internet by Hawaii would have revealed this and more. So the fact that Hawaii failed to avail itself of a simple online background check before allowing me on her beaches demonstrates negligence on her part, and everyone knows negligence = culpability. ...  read more

I Tried Revenge Chores So You Don’t Have To

Got in a fight with Greg yesterday about a Tiny Thing. For the record, it was categorically his fault and zero percent mine, and we shall ignore the fact that I’m the only one telling this story without giving him a shot at sharing His Side. Yes? Yes. Excellent. I’m glad we’re on the same page.

Don’t worry, though; I got back at him by Revenge Weeding, Revenge Dish Washing, and Revenge Dinner Cooking. That’s when you do all those things, but with anger in your heart instead of love. Well, I suppose with love, too, but only technically speaking. Revenge Chores are like when the love is definitely there, but it’s buried deep, deep down under the Muttering and the One Sided Conversations in Your Brain Where Everything YOU Have to Say Is Brilliant and Wise So That He Acquiesces, Admits Fault, and Begs for Forgiveness. That’s very satisfying if you, like me, are interested in maintaining the fantasy of Righteous Anger and stoking the flame of simultaneous Self Pity and Superiority, but it’s not very satisfying if you want to, you know, do anything actually productive in the relationship.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Sometimes you gotta make hard choices. ...  read more

On Moving to Belize

Exciting news, friends! Greg and I, along with our kids, are moving to Belize! We don’t have a timeline yet, as we’re just in the initial phases of looking for riverfront property in the Cayo district — probably on the Macal River — but stay tuned for more info.

Also — IMPORTANT — don’t tell Greg yet, please.

I haven’t technically mentioned it to him yet because I’ve learned it takes a while to break news like this to him. ...  read more

Trophy Time: GOT DRESSED

Hey, BIG NEWS. I got dressed today. To my shoes. In Not Pajamas. With everything right side out. BEFORE NOON. I have thus been awarded the following trophy.

GOT DRESSED!

To be clear, by “I’ve been awarded,” I mean I awarded it to myself which is only appropriate as I’m the Governing Body that oversees Dressedness in my home. 

You may remember last month, when I accepted trophies in myriad categories including Smothered Zero People With a Pillow and Injury Free Workplace: 60 Minutes. Well, this trophy was available to me then (in a burst of unbridled optimism, I’d ordered it for myself from the Trophy Store), but the time never seemed right to bestow it, partly because I avoid getting dressed whenever possible, and partly because 1. Getting Dressed, 2. Remembering I’m Dressed, and 3. Taking a Photo to Prove I’m Dressed was two steps too many. My three steps looked more like 1. Getting Dressed, 2. Getting Undressed as Soon as Socially Feasible (i.e. upon walking one step in my front door), and then, 3. much later, going, “DAMN. I FORGOT MY TROPHY AGAIN.” ...  read more