Know what the internets need? MORE HOW TO ARTICLES. Because knowing how to do stuff is always better than not knowing. Yes? Yes. Correct. Always.
So here’s a quick tip for y’all.
This is my kid, Abby:
Abby goes to university in Hawaii because Abby is the smartest person I know.
This is my kid’s human:
Chandler also goes to university in Hawaii ‘cause he’s no dummy, either. ...
Quick updates, friends, on this, the first day of school 2018:
1. Got up early this morning! BEFORE my alarm went off. I AM ON TOP OF ALL THE THINGS. THIS IS MY NEW ROUTINE. I SHALL BE UP EARLY EVERY DAY THIS SCHOOL YEAR.
2. Fell back asleep.
3. Slept through my alarm.
4. Woke to the face of a child asking if I would, because this is the First Day and therefore a Special Circumstance, “do that thing where you at least look like you tried.” ...
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. ...
Greg thinks my cooking looks like an open wound.
“BETH?” he yelled from upstairs. “WHY DID YOU POST A PHOTO OF AN OPEN WOUND ON YOUR BLOG?”
Listen; with a family our size, we have to yell from one floor to the other. Yes, our parents taught us not to hollar throughout the house because we are humans and not elephants trumpeting in the wilderness —“Go FIND people and TALK TO THEM WITHOUT YELLING,” my mother would yell — but we have too many people in our house for that to work. Do you have any idea how much exercise we would get if we always talked to our people in person around here? Every request and reminder? For all five children plus the spouse? THAT’S SO MANY STAIRS TO WALK, y’all. We’d get repetitive stress injuries like extreme marathoners, and, healthcare being what it is in America, WE CANNOT AFFORD THAT. So we yell. It’s just practical. ...
Dear friends,
Just a teeny, tiny quick tip for you today.
If somebody says, “Hey! You look really nice today,” maybe just say thank you.
Thank you is enough.
Thank you is not as awkward as Other Options.
Thank you is socially appropriate. And, sweet friend, you actually do not need to offer an excuse for looking nice.
Maybe, for example, do not say, “Yeah, I would’ve worn my usual jeans except I put them on last night to go out, and I realized they smell like butt. I suppose I should’ve expected that since I can’t remember the last time I washed them, but it still came as a surprise. I sprayed them with perfume, which, as you might suspect, made them smell like Perfume and Butt. It really wasn’t an improvement over Just Butt, but at least it’s the smell of I Tried, you know? I wore them anyway because I was already running late, but I vowed I would not wear them again until I actually wash them because I have standards. Eventually. I have Eventual Standards. So, because I’ve put on, like, 30 pounds over the last couple years, I only have the one pair of jeans right now, which means the inner thighs are practically see-through and in imminent danger of ripping and presenting a serious social hazard. This dress is the only other thing that fits. So, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯, that’s why I look nice, I guess. My butt-smelling jeans are on the fritz.” ...
I have won.
I’m pretty sure I have won for all time.
I have won at helping my children set the very lowest of low expectations for their mother so that all their tiny dreams can come true.
As I mentioned previously, we are, for practical reasons. already celebrating Christmas. Therefore, I asked my child what he wants this year. He replied, and I quote, ...
I’m coming back now.
Back to myself.
Back to my family.
Back to waking up before noon on my own, and back to not thinking, first thing, “When do I get to go back to bed?” I’d forgotten that part of life; the absence of longing for the constant escape of sleep.
I had a few hours not many days ago when I remembered myself. Who I am when I have clarity. Who I am minus the Muddled Mind. It was like swimming above clear water instead of sinking, mired in mud. It was ah ha and oh yeah and one deep, complete breath of invisible air; oxygen delivered in full. ...
