Bits Of My Body

Whenever I write for sites other than this one right here - and especially when the topics are less "Ten Things To Wear For Summer!" and more "Here Are My Greatest Fears As A Woman/Parent/Human" - it feels like I'm sending little bits of my body out into the universe for people to do with as they will.

It is scary. I do it anyway, because over the years I've discovered that doing anything else isn't really an option for me.

On Tuesday, three new articles of mine went live, coinciding with the launch of The Big Activity Book for Anxious People, and they're...personal. Pieces of me, and so on.


For Better Or Worse

7 years ago today.

Facebook memories needs to come with a trigger warning.

Here is the realization I had this morning, while coordinating a virtual army of people to help me care for my children while I'm on my business trip this week: Life will never be the same.


The Weekday Parent

At my son's open house last night, we were given a checklist with the different projects on display, so we could make sure to see them all. There was a wall where the kids had written about their favorite part of first grade (my son wrote "getting to eat breakfast in school," because he has his priorities straight), and a wall displaying illustrated book reports of their favorite Dr. Seuss story. The last project on the checklist was "My Home." There were little spaces where the kids filled in various facts about their home - how many pets they have, that kind of thing.

In my home, there are 3 pets, my son wrote. There is 1 adult and 2 kids.

I scanned the other kids' projects, doing the now-familiar hunt for Another Divorced Person (I look for them everywhere - at drop-offs and playgrounds and amusement parks; they're not usually hard to spot). Two of his classmates had 6 people living in their home (4 adults and 2 kids). The majority of them had 4 (2 adults and 2 kids). But - national statistics be damned - nobody else had "1 adult."


However Bad You Imagine Getting Kids’ Passports To Be, It Is Worse Than That


I was almost shockingly well-prepared for today's mission: Getting passports for my two children in advance of our Spring Break trip to Mexico. I mean, I've been around the international-travel-with-kids rodeo a couple of times before, and I know that it is terrible. But here's a fun twist: it turns out that when you decide to both get divorced and take your child on vacation? The government goes fucking after you. (Because they don't want you to kidnap your child. I get it. But STILL.)

See, when only one parent is doing the passport-acquiring on behalf of the child, the already-considerable amount of paperwork involved multiples like rabbits and requires the involvement of people like notaries. And if you hear the words "Could you get this notarized?" and think "Oh, sure! No problem whatsoever!" I do not think you and I can be friends.

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