Here’s a story you’ve never heard before: girl gets married, has a baby, gains weight and then hates herself.
The mantra for my mothering style is: don’t be an asshole. A solid rule for the kid, but also for me. Wouldn’t it be rad if all parents just agreed that the way we’re doing things isn’t necessarily right, but it’s the option we’re choosing to survive? Whether it’s breastfeeding, leashes, TV or the lack thereof, nutrition, sleeping and diapers - we just have to trust our guts, do what works safely for our kids and if our neighbour chooses to take a different approach, well, shrug, high five over a bathtub of wine and carry on. Perfect. I can stop feeling defensive about everything and finally get Stella’s septum pierced. (KIDDING, MOM. WAKE UP.)
As a blogger, freelance writer and manager of many social media channels, I am online more than I would like to admit. The upside is I find amazing things that I think YOU will love too.
When I'm not on my laptop I sometimes cook (gluten-free), watch movies (hard core p-rn) (KIDDING), and after 7 years of debauchery, am finally eating right and moving my ass around. Here is the stuff that made me happy this week. You in?
Subtitle: A Holiday Fable I am Doomed to Repeat Forever and Ever
If you have a kid, every goddamn month there is an obligation. When I was little, (latch key swinging around my neck, thick stack of Babysitter’s Club books wedged under my bed), we did birthdays and Christmas up big. Two holidays. Spoiled and beautiful and the smell of freshly blown out candles and cats sh-tting out tinsel. Perfect.
Confession: I am 36 and have pen pals. Truth: I don’t care if you think that’s lame because getting mail, real handwritten mail, from someone you may have just texted back and forth with about your co-worker's flatulence, is still the bossest thing around.