• Old(er) pony, new tricks.

    *** We are in the thick of summer and though we have been having lots of fun, it also feels like we’ve been weaving around unavoidable chaos.  Summer has completely thrown off my momentum of self-care and I have no excuse other than my inability to focus when I don’t have a solid schedule.  Ivy’s summer break combined with a work trip then a small pleasure trip completely threw me off my path.  I haven’t worked out consistently and my eating habits have been on and off for weeks. I have gained back a few pounds and I’m starting to think I need to throw my scale out altogether –…

  • Three is the angriest number.

    *** I remember once feeling superior that my lovely little human never went through the “terrible twos” and giving myself a pat on the back for (so-far) raising an even tempered, happy little girl.  “Oh, I bet that one’s a firecracker!” I’d hear countless times at the grocery store from people observing Ivy’s red hair. And I’d proudly, no, smugly respond, “No, she’s a pretty happy go lucky kid.”  And then… My child turned 3 1/2 and some sort of miniature demon has taken control of her to the point that I now look fondly back at potty training as a sort of utopia. Now, I’m not saying animated movies are, in fact, documentaries based on…

  • Five things that drain me as a parent (and none of them have to do with my kids)

    *** When I was five years old, I watched Albert Peece* eat glue at our kindergarten table. I gagged uncontrollably the first time I witnessed it. As the child of a large animal veterinarian, I had seen some pretty disgusting things in my young life by then (those medical rubber gloves go all the way up the arm for a reason, people); but, for some reason, Albert eating glue unnerved me to no end. Albert would eat glue almost every day during art. He’d roll it in a ball between his fingers and then pop it in his mouth like a Cheetoh. (I’m totally gagging as I type this, by the way.) But I loved…

  • A WHOLE New Way of Thinking

    *** “I mean, you were never fat, but…,” a friend. “Freshman 15? More like the Freshman 30,” a boyfriend. “Over capacity on elevator! Elevator’s going to break because of girl in green jeans,” a stranger. “She looks like she’s lost weight, has she? No? Oh, I thought she had…” a family member. These things were all said to or about me over twenty years ago. It’s funny how I can still hear them all so clearly in my head even today. I know exactly where I was. I can tell you exactly what I was wearing. No, wait, scratch that.  It’s actually not funny that I remember it. It’s incredibly sad. Words can…