-
Plant Murder, Part Two. AKA: Who Cares About Plants When People Are Dying
It’s been a while since the Kangaroo committed his heinous acts against my plants and I meant to finish this story sooner, but it turns out life got in my way. Not in any big way, just in those everyday things that take your focus and distract you from finishing projects. It isn’t just this blog post that has gone unfinished. It’s the two baby blankets for my sisters new baby that are both sitting next to my bedside, waiting for my crochet hook. It’s the half built ball pit in my basement, the unfinished paint job in the playroom, and the partially completed May budget (looks like I get…
-
The Kangaroo committed plant murder today and I lost my mind; a story in two parts
Part one: in which the stage is set Today was hard. This week was hard. It just felt like one hit after another after another. As soon as I got one thing squared away something else would fall apart and I got whiplash just trying to keep everything in sight. My breaking point came yesterday afternoon. The plumber came over to check out a screaming noise my toilet was making that resembled a colicky newborn (been there, done that, definitely don’t need that shit from my toilet too) and while he was in the middle of telling me that both of my toilets need work, he happened to notice that…
-
Welcome to the Hunger Games
Hi. I’m Anna and I have an eating disorder. Oof. That’s scary to write. Scary to say out loud for the world to hear. But there it is, and I’m not going to go back and delete it. I’m a grown ass woman. I am an amazing mom. I’m college educated, a home owner, a critter keeper, a caring friend, a loving daughter, and a great sister. I have travelled all over the world; I’ve climbed mountains in China and river rafted in Thailand. I can cook a full Thanksgiving dinner from scratch and start a campfire from twigs. I can sew a quilt, give CPR, grow my own grapes,…
-
Coronavirus Gave Me My Son Back
Two months ago I found myself sitting on the floor of my living room, sobbing, while the Kangaroo sat in my lap, also sobbing. Only his sobs were different than mine. His were high pitched and keening. They were interspersed with screams and each scream was accompanied by him throwing his head back into my sternum as hard as he could. Over and over and over. Two months ago I didn’t know how to help him be happy. Our days were filled with tantrums, meltdowns, physical aggression, and heartbreak. I would pick him up from school at noon and his teacher would report that he had a great day; seemed…
-
That Kid
We all know who That Kid is. He’s the one who is a little louder, a little wilder, has a little less self control than the other kids. The one who is climbing up the slide when the other kids at the park are going down, who screams at the top of his lungs for the joy of it, and who puts his hands all over your child because he gets so excited that he literally can’t keep his hands to himself. Sometimes he is a happy ball of energy who is so excited to be somewhere fun with people he loves, and sometimes he is a tornado who runs…
-
When The Cat’s Away…
… the mouse will play. Or, in our case, the universe will do everything it can do make my life as hard as possible. Two weeks ago Papa Roo went out of town for five days. During that time the dog got a horrible pooping disease, the Kangaroo puked all over his bed for two consecutive nights, he got double ear infections in both ears, and then the antibiotics made his diapers literally explode. Papa Roo went out of town again on Sunday and seven hours later my grandmother passed away. Two hours after that the Kangaroo colored all over the wall in the hallway and the cat puked on…
-
My Five Steps For Sadness
I’m really good at being sad. You might be thinking “weird flex, but okay” and you’d be right. Who is proud of the way they handle depression? This girl, that’s who. I’m really good at collapsing into sadness and letting it take over for a little bit, because I know how to get through it and get past it. I’ve been dealing with depression and anxiety since I was a teenager, although it wasn’t until college that I allowed myself to formally admit it and get some help. My preferred method of dealing with it in high school was to be really mean to my family, especially my sister, and…
-
He’s Black and You’re White
“Is he your son?” “Yes” “He’s black.” “Yup” “He’s black and you’re white.” “Yup” “Why is he black if you’re white?” My husband and I adopted the Kangaroo, a bi-racial child, out of foster care. His birth mother is a black woman from Ghana and his birth father is a white man from Central Kentucky. Despite his white birth father, the Kangaroo is a black child. The world views him as black, when he looks in the mirror he sees a black child, he will grow up to be a black man. We work hard to help him feel proud of his skin, his beautiful melanin, his tight curly hair,…
-
Hello World!
When people tell you to start a blog they don’t actually tell you how to do it. They say things like “you’re so funny! You should start a blog!”, which isn’t helpful at all. A blog about what? Parenting? Hah! I’m barely making it from one day to the next! Adopting transracially out of foster care? I don’t think adopting one tiny human makes me any kind of an expert. Infertility? Nah. I barely like to talk about that in my real life, never mind my internet life. Autism? Today my son peed on the floor and watched two hours of Word Party. Who am I to give anyone advice…