Tamarah Rockwood

"Who puts folded shirts on top of your closet shelf? I can hardly reach the hangers, alone. Honestly, people."

I worry about the food I give them. I worry about the clothes we have for them. I stress over the amount of time I spend with them . . . or don’t spend with them. When is it enough, and when is it overpowering?

The last episode of “MyCoffeePot & Me” aired 2 years ago when I woke up to an unresponsive pot.

"If I am holding an amber beer in my hand, I am not talking about naptimes. If I hear shop from your lips, I am ordering you three more martinis and getting you shitfaced..."

"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."

The impropriety of the nefarious Zero Tolerance Policy is a double edged sword. On one hand, you cut the serious threats which could jeopardize the students and teachers in school. No doubt, if a kid has a gun in their backpack — serious threat. On the other hand, you cut the benign and harmless students who are blindsided after the handcuffs are slapped on their wrists, and they are escorted out by police for building a clock for their robotics club.

My brain seems to have stopped functioning at its full capacity, and I am simply going through the motions of loading the car and unloading the car at this point. Kids? Check. Purse? Check. Shoes? Check. Towels? Purely optional. Sunblock? Check.

My reality has to include social anxiety, because I have had social anxiety for as long as I can remember. School programs, football stadiums, parades, large parties . . . hell, even small parties. I would rather not. To the point that I will simply not attend. Not because I can’t handle it; I can. I just don’t enjoy the crowds, and I don’t enjoy my reaction to the crowds. I get bitchy and impatient, mostly with myself, and I actually don’t like being bitchy and impatient.

"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."

Yet, there is life beyond just t-shirt and jeans. There is more to an ensemble than denim and scarves.