• 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…

  • I’m a mom. Not a shtick.

    *** Let’s talk truth in motherhood, shall we? As I sat drinking my coffee this morning and scrolled through the feed of pages I follow on Facebook, I noticed a theme. Endless pieces posted by “mom portals” with titles like Why I Will Never *blank* Again or Yes, I Resent My Husband For *blank*. And after reading each title, I would skim the comments and read the (inevitable) criticism of the writer’s point of view, etc. Harsh criticism. Like, people are effing mean. But that’s what happens when you read the comments section of anything really, right? Vultures hovering to point out why your opinion/suggestion/way is wrong/damaging/idiotic.  I don’t usually like…

  • Anxiety v. Activism

    *** A few months ago I wrote about my anxiety issues, and I’m still in awe over the responses, comments and private messages I received from people who also suffer from the same or similar issues. I want to keep writing about this, because this is definitely a topic that I think should not just fade off into the sunset, especially because it is an ongoing struggle and isn’t easily cured with a pill or a new mindset. Additionally, I wrote not too long ago about my desire to be a more active participant with regard to activism and taking a stand on issues that I feel strongly about.  One of these issues is women’s…

  • Cut it out!

    Ok, I know I just wrote here that I won’t be writing about or sharing recipes on the blog anymore, but Ivy and I made some cookies yesterday that turned out so great, I feel it’s my duty to share the recipe with you. That’s right, I’m breaking my own rules in the name of cut-outs. Some rules are just meant to be broken. Immediately, apparently. We have been trapped in this house for what seems like forrrr-evuh due to St. Louis’ Icemageddon, and, surprisingly, Ivy didn’t go too stir-crazy. She has, however, been asking to “make.”  (She gets make confused with bake and I don’t really correct her too often, because…