Jennifer Fliss

All the feels. If you take this out of context (and it’s never really in context), it sounds vaguely pornographic. No, not vaguely. It does sound pornographic. So a kitty and bunny befriending each other should not evoke “all the feels.” Otherwise please step away. Slowly...slowly...now go.

Here’s the thing: I have benefited greatly from reading stories from others, the daring narratives of those who have histories similar to my own. We feel more human when we hear that other humans relate to an experience we maybe thought was our very own private hell.

*/

I know of people who find one child incredibly challenging and seem to hate the whole experience. And yet they proceed to have another child willingly.

I wonder about these decisions. For me, I would be a terrible mother if I had another child.

Many people (rightfully) believe that women own their bodies, and that, therefore, they should be in control of their own bodies. So why do those same people turn around and try to define girls by their clothing?

On a dark rainy night, when our toddler was asleep, he set up Star Wars: A New Hope — who knew that was what it was called? — on the laptop. I, with a skeptical brow, cozy blanket, and my phone (in case boredom struck)...

A photo of your long-dead cat, Milo, in a brass Easter egg-shaped frame. Oh, sweet animal, I miss your furballs, you think when you hang it on a low branch. Milo had an uncanny ability to hork on laps when unwanted visitors overstayed their welcome.

Nothing says "I’m patriotic" quite like going to a wolf-themed indoor water park resort wearing your wolf-themed t-shirt. With your floaties on. And a beer in your hand.

It is the denigrating soundtrack of a breast pumping session. You, sitting at its mercy. It, just taking and taking.

Invite friends over. They should be attractive, but don’t have to be.