Tamarah Rockwood
Bio
Tamarah Rockwood Articles
I know sending kids to school is the most normal thing on earth. I know they are going to do great, and I know they are going to flourish. And I know it is only twice a week, and I am still the teacher the rest of the time.
Read...I just wonder. . . if my daughter came home one day and said she couldn’t have a job because she was too old, how would that be right?
Read...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?”
Read...The thing is, the more I watch this show, and the more I think back to the endless years in Start Up culture that we experienced, the more I keep thinking: “This is way too similar to parenting.”
Read...Was I hungry? Was it low blood sugar? Were my feet falling off? Was I crazy? Was I dying?
Read..."So, Hollywood's perfect couple is not just having a conscious uncoupling ... they are going the traditional route with a full divorce."
Read...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.
Read...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.
Read...I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.
Read...You really, seriously wanted this week to be different!
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