Tamarah Rockwood

My house is a mess, my patience is hardly a composure I explore regularly, and there are times when I feel like I am the biggest failure in the history of modern motherhood. Some days I’m just shooting for a participation trophy. There is no award for ignoring the laundry until everyone is out of underwear, or letting my 3-year-old watch Mulan 3 times before lunch. Did I mention I take my kids to McDonald’s once a week?

Kathryn Schulz from The New Yorker has warned the entire West Coast of an eminent natural disaster. Apparently, the Western coastline has this crazy fault line that has stretch marks called the “Cascadia subduction zone.” And it is in these subduction zones which we are all going to die.

Don’t say the following: “Maybe they’ll remember me!” “I bet they would love to get a message from me!” “Contacting the popular kids while we are in our 30s is a fantastic idea and doesn’t look desperate at all!”

Typical advice: Go out there and find yourself...on the precipice of death overlooking a valley of broken dreams, student loans, and tears.

"Impostor Syndrome is the unwanted caboose on the train of motherhood. It is the trailing thoughts that give you the absurd ideas that you are a fraud."

There comes a point in every writer’s life when their brain just refuses to work.

6. You do not need to comment on what my child is or isn't doing. "That's too bad you don't have your kids enrolled in advanced chess. I have my kids in advanced chess, and lacrosse, and calculus, and..."

"I just can’t see Donald Trump on the ballot as being the most disgusting thing in the world. Right? I mean, there must be things out there that are actually more disgusting than Donald Trump."

So, I ask myself: “Self, how much would you spend at Disneyland for a 3 day trip?” and then I would counter that with, “Self, how much could that money get you…anywhere else?”

Occasion: You are invited to your friend's wedding. YAY! WEDDINGS! You want to go. But then you can't. Bummer.