Tamarah Rockwood

Was I hungry? Was it low blood sugar? Were my feet falling off? Was I crazy? Was I dying?

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..."

"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..."

"Day to day life is going to the DMV, or picking up a few things at Home Depot, or going to bed early. Although I really do like the spunk of motivational posters to put
the idea of “what if” into our heads..."

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

I couldn’t listen to another puerile sales pitch in someone’s living room, promising the moon and then selling you something that “tastes just like sugar.” (It doesn’t. Not even sort of.)

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?

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

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.

The truth is, my kids are not going to grow a deeper character thanks to perfect floors. Granted, it will make life easier for me, no doubt: there are few things that make my stomach drop than walking into a room that I just cleaned, and seeing a spoonful of peanut butter just sitting on the floor (I have an accomplished toddler). Peanut butter on the floor, or on the counter, or on the tablecloth — or anywhere other than on a piece of bread — is frustrating.