what I want you to know: gaining gratitude in the midst of loss (HELLP syndrome)
What I Want You to Know is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the unique issues each of us face. (If you are new to this blog, regularly schedule programming will resume after the holidays, but you can check out the “Best Of” section in the meantime). If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. This guest post is by an anonymous reader. When my water broke at 32 . . .
how Jafta spent ski week
Last week was ski week for Jafta’s school – a week between winter break and spring break when Orange County students are off from school so that they can go visit their bourgeois mountain cabin and hit the slopes. I am more than a little annoyed by ski week, especially since despite what may be portrayed on tv, Orange County is actually comprised of a wide variety of middle-class folks, most of whom won’t be skiing during ski week. Jafta heard about ski week at school, and . . .
smoothie test kitchen: three recipes for easy green smoothies
I’ve been sharing some of the ways we have practically made the move to accommodate a gluten-free, dairy-free (GFDF) diet in our house, and smoothies are a big part of it. I love smoothies because it is such an easy way to sneak veggies by my kids. Spinach in the smoothie. I swear . . . it’s like magic. They never notice. It’s also an easy way to get flax seed in. Because my pickiest eater is not about to eat a fish-oil supplement. But a sweet, slushie . . .
that’s what SHE said: political pinterest, fighting in front of kids, bowing out of volunteering, narcing on other people’s kids, and other assorted linsanity
To Narc Or Not, That is The Question | Hogwash From a Hoser with Tanis Miller I have gone out of my way to cultivate the trust between my children and for them to feel safe telling me anything they wish. And so far, in their early teenage years, they do. I’d like that to continue as they creep closer to adulthood. But what if next time it’s not about stumbling on a forbidden Facebook page but rather finding out one of their friend’s is doing drugs or drinking and driving? Is it my duty as . . .
the time I referred to “the black guy”, and other tales of racial awkwardness
A couple weeks ago, I posted a list of resources for talking to kids about racism. As it happens, a few people “pinned” the post onto Pinterest. As a blogger, checking Pinterest is interesting, because you can see commentary on your posts from people who don’t necessarily read your blog (or know anything about you). Last week, I noticed a comment on a pin of that post – the description was “how to talk to kids about race”. A woman replied (I’m assumed without having . . .
love notes
The other day I found a curious sealed envelope on Jafta’s dresser. I started opening it and he grabbed it out of my hand and threw it in the trash. He seemed embarrassed. So, like any nosey concerned mother, I fished it out of the trashcan when he wasn’t looking. This is what I found: Oh snap. IT STARTS. I’ve got my eye on that Sumantha and her pretty brown har. Meanwhile, I happened upon India writing sentences with her Banagrams, and this is what . . .
what I want you to know: when sex = pain (living with vaginismus)
What I Want You to Know is a series of reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the unique issues each of us face. If you would like to submit a story to this series, click here. This guest post is by an anonymous reader. I have never known sex without pain. From the very first time on our starry-eyed-virgins wedding night, until now several years later, I experience stabbing, gasping pain at any . . .
how to make overnight crockpot oatmeal (and how to get your kids to eat it)
Last week I posted a few gluten-free, dairy-free breakfast ideas, and I thought I would share how I make oatmeal in the crockpot (and a little trick for getting my kids to eat it). I am not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination, so I am all about finding ways to prepare breakfast in advance. I love doing oatmeal in the crockpot because I can put it on before I go to bed, and it’s perfect in the morning. First things first, let’s talk slow-cookers. If you only . . .
that’s what SHE said: motherhood and addiction, sad fish, sex after marriage, no homo promo, and more . . .
Whitney Houston, My Mother and Addiction | NYTimes.com Because society turns a blind eye to the very ugly truth: there are more than 79,000 deaths attributable to excessive alcohol consumption alone in the United States every year — about the number of fans who packed Tampa Stadium for Ms. Houston’s heralded rendition of the national anthem at Super Bowl XXV. Fifteen years ago, my mother was one of them. Sex After Marriage and Parenting | Dadding He Said: . . . If we . . .
spiritual maturity
During a prayer at church tonight, after being asked to consider ways we can be of service, Mark and I had the following whispered exchange: MARK: God just told me that he wants you to be of service to me. ME: God just told me that he wants me to serve you through admonishments. MARK: I am your spiritual leader. Please respect my headship over you. ME: [edited for profanity] more quiet prayer time . . . ME: Hey! Two more hours until we can watch the next . . .
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