Real Talk

DIARY

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."

DIARY

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

Wheeeee

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.

DIARY

The Fifth Line

via

The other day, my daughter pointed to one of the jagged lines criss-crossing her palm. What are those cracks?, she wanted to know. So I pulled up a sort of Palmistry 101 website, and we sat there, labeling each one. Alright, so that one's your life line, I told her. That spot where it divides in two - that's when something big changes, like maybe you get a really cool new job. 

After we'd covered the major lines - Life, Head, Heart, Fate - we twisted our hands from side to side, looking for the smaller cracks, then scrolling through the website to find out what they meant. Those little lines in between the index finger and the middle finger represent your kids, and I showed her how I have two. That's you and your brother, I said.

DIARY

No Going Back (Or: Why My Ex-Husband And I Got Matching Tattoos For Christmas)

Us (and a panda) at Universal Studios yesterday.

Over the past few months, plenty of people have asked me what I'm going to do about the "K" on my foot. I'm sure plenty more have asked Kendrick what he's going to do about the massive heart on his forearm that has the word "JORDAN" sitting smack in the middle of it.

We used to have a joke that if we ever split up, I'd make my K into a flower, and he'd just throw a 23 onto his (Michael Jordan, hahaha) and call it a day. But it would never cross my mind that he'd actually do that - first, because it's not that funny, really, and also because he just...wouldn't cover that up. For the same reason I'd never cover up mine.


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