Tamarah Rockwood

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.

I don’t like my old friend Guilt very much. We are not BFFs. She smells funny, and I don’t appreciate her company.

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.

What I am not saying: "I am now going to take this opportunity to rub in your face what an inadequate parent you are for not sacrificing your entire life to homeschool your children, who you obviously don't love."

"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."

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?

"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..."

"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..."

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.

Occasion: You are invited to your friend's wedding. YAY! WEDDINGS! You want to go. But then you can't. Bummer.