Tamarah Rockwood

Tamarah Rockwood

Bio

Tamarah Rockwood is a stay-at-home, homeschooling, beer drinking, bourbon loving, roller skating, forest-dwelling mother of 5.  She met her husband in high school, and they have been getting away with unlimited snogging and being stupidly happy together for over 20 years.  Tamarah has a degree in American & British Literature, published a book of poetry (“Petals of Magnolia”), which has gone on to win zero national awards, and been an in-house editor for small poetry journals, worked in real estate (yuck), art galleries (yay!), substitute teaching and finally pole-vaulting into SAHM-hood without even spilling her drink.  In her free time she writes for her blog, The Platypus Directive, as well as XOJane and Featured Blogs on BlogHer, thinking about redefining motherhood, figuring out what it means to be a woman, and posting bourbon reviews.  Hey, somebody’s gotta do it.  

Tamarah Rockwood Articles

5 Things You Probably Should Tell Grads

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

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In Case Seattle Sinks Into The Ocean: A Bucket List

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.

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The Donald. (Credit: Gage Skidmore)

5 Things That Might Be More Disgusting Than Donald Trump

"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."

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Zero tolerance makes zero sense.

Zero Tolerance For Zero Tolerance

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.

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Let's see how this goes.

School Is In Session: 5 Lunches I'm Eating ALONE

1. EATING OUT. OMG, I could eat lunch at a diner . . . without also being given a coloring sheet with crayons. I could eat a whole meal by myself. I can play on my phone without having to share it! Bonus: No kids menus required.

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5 Parenting Conversations I Am So Done With

"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..."

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Working Out Isn't . . . Working Out

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

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Motherhood And Impostor Syndrome

"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."

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the first and last time we could find matching shoes.

Number One Sign You're An Imperfect Parent: You Have Kids

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?

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I am the rock. You'll need to know that for later.

Stephen Fry Is My Spirit Animal: The Panic Of Social Anxiety

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.

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