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My Perfect Husband
Let me start by saying I don’t have post-partum depression, at least not of the Brooke Shields variety. I’m just tired. And feeling frumpy. Oh, and I have this. Plus, for anyone who hasn’t been paying...
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Is It Wrong…
…that I can’t have a bite of chocolate in my own house without cowering in the laundry room? I’m really not a so-called emotional eater — unless you consider it an emotion when a grown woman spikes a...
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I Don’t Like Big Butts, and I Cannot Lie
I had a few ideas brewing in my mind today for a blog post. I was going to blog about a little twiggy teenage girl rear-ending my car yesterday, and how my first impulse—so new and foreign to me—was to...
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Not as Old as My Caftan Implies
I’ve been feeling old lately. I don’t need a Boy Scout to help me cross roads or anything. And I don’t sport giant, black fit-over sunglasses while navigating my town car to Jo-Ann Fabric. In truth,...
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The Latest Post-Partum Depression Fix: Flamboyant Baby Boy Clothes
My baby son is dressed like something out of Brokeback Mountain right now. He’s wearing a plaid flannel get-up that runs from head to toe with mother-of-pearl snap-buttons. My husband almost barfed...
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