It wasn’t until I saw the obituary that everything sank in. The date of death was June 28, four whole days before anyone bothered to tell me.
After two years of split-up parent bliss, they told me over ravioli that my dad was coming home. I bottled up whatever unsavory feelings I felt because I knew only a spoiled brat would be pissed that her parents were saving their marriage.
We spend way too much time policing other parents and not enough time helping other parents and their kids.
gay and lesbian
When you love someone, you don’t give a crap about which sex they’re into.
Being in love is great. Trying to force the person you love to have a baby with you (right now) is not.
Maybe it’s a stage. And maybe it’s not. But either way, I don’t want him to ever feel like he wasn’t able to express himself because his parents didn’t support him.
what the parenting books don't tell you
One of the great things about raising a child, for me, has been to watch my son become his own person and form relationships with other people -- friends, teachers, caregivers, and step-parents.
One woman brought me a coloring book full of vaginas, of all shapes and sizes; resplendent in their diversity.
getting pregnant with michelle tea
When I finally polish off a big, fat jar of Vlasic dill spears, I gaze down at a pint or so of absolutely mouth-watering pickle juice. And I want to drink the whole entire thing.
I am not a mom, but I study them -- and the difficult work they do -- for about eight hours a day.
She buys me a new scale for every apartment I’ve had, the old one having mysteriously disappeared. Even today, we email each other our weights on a daily basis.
My father never knew how to express himself; I never knew how to tell him that I loved him
The very clear and simple reason I must strive to be a grown-up about this is because I have a child in the equation, which means I’m obligated to make it as amicable as I possibly can, whether it suits me or not.