Where My Earmuffs At?

It's happening: that thing that I promised myself wouldn't happen. That thing I specifically wrote about in the context of encouraging other people not to let it happen to them.

I'm getting sick and tired of talking about (and thinking about) politics. And it's making me want to put my earmuffs back on. Or bury my head in the sand. Pick an "ignorance is bliss" analogy; any one'll do.

The problem isn't that I'm "too upset," actually - it's that all this upsetness is starting to make me feel...numb. And the numbness is what freaks me out. Each and every day a new atrocity pops up in my news feed that makes me feel like I'm living in an alternate reality, or maybe still asleep. I know this sounds insane. I'm serious. I mentioned this odd little development to my therapist, and you know what she said? "Oh, yeah, that's dissociation. Super common. It's your brain's way of protecting you."


Those Oft-Neglected Spots

Every once in awhile, it happens: my eyes land upon a spot in my house that for whatever reason I’ve never noticed before, and I am horrified.

Let me tell you a very disgusting story (sorry).

Over the past few months, Lucy has developed a habit of sleeping in my closet. And not just “in my closet”: in one of the storage boxes lined up along the floor of my closet, which hold things like out-of-season sweaters and accessories I rarely use and such. It never really bothered me, because she weighs six pounds and always seems very cute and peaceful when she’s all curled up on top of a pile of my clothing.


I Got My Face Lasered. Here’s How It Went.

A few weeks ago, if you remember, I wrote about how I tried a microdermabrasion treatment - not because I wanted to, exactly, but rather because I had discussed using a BBL laser treatment on the rosacea on my cheeks (which you may not have noticed, since I wear makeup to cover it, but trust me, it's there - and it's RED). Except the aesthetician had informed me that I had to do microdermabrasion first (to treat the little case of hormone-related adult acne I've recently developed, WHEE). 3 weeks later, my skin was (relatively) chilled-out, and I went in for the BBL treatment in hopes of combating the underlying problem.

I've never done anything laser-related before and was a little nervous - so of course I took my camera with me into the treatment room. Of course. (And please don't watch this video if you typically get freaked out by stuff like this; the "after" picture isn't especially lovely.)


Three-Ingredient Bananacakes

omg these are delicious.

How have I never heard of bananacakes before?! They're like pancakes, except you get to skip 90% of the steps involved in making pancakes. And since they have zero added sugar and flour and everything else, I have to assume they're...better for you? ...Sort of?

Anyway, I was at my friend Elise's house for brunch the other day and she whipped up some of these using just eggs and mashed-up banana (with a touch of cinnamon), and they are good. Slightly denser than pancakes - and you definitely have to be into banana-flavored things, but who isn't? - and such a great last-minute what-do-I-make-for-breakfast solution (plus a fun way to use up your about-to-go-brown bananas; you can always make them now and freeze them for the weekend).


The Springtime Bed

Floral Embroidered Bedding Set

Kendrick and I are terribly, horribly mismatched when it comes to our internal thermostats. He is literally always freezing and constantly accusing me of stealing his covers, which cannot possibly be true because when I sleep I transform into a human furnace. Nobody is allowed to touch me, because I will sweat myself into a puddle, and "nobody" includes covers other than the ones that are absolutely required in order to prevent the monster under the bed from touching my feet.

Despite the fact that bedding is a contentious issue in my house, it's still one of my favorite things to shop for: it just instantly transforms your space. If you're in the market for some pretty new bedding to make you feel all airy and fresh and springy, I put a rundown of some current faves below.


Say Yes

Here is a thing that I do, and wish I didn’t: So often – most days, in fact – I stick to the plan. Once I pick my kids up from school I have an idea of what our afternoon is “supposed” to look like, and I’ll march us through the schedule one checkmark at a time, lest something get forgotten or left undone. My kids will ask whether we can do something I hadn’t even thought of – something that would shoot the day off in a completely different direction - and my kneejerk reaction will be to say no, because come on, guys – we have things to do.

Except…do we, really? It’ll be mid-afternoon, and I’ll be sweeping the floor or making a grocery list or trying to fix the latest thing that has broken, and my kids will rush at me, wanting to go on a bike ride, and I’ll say: “I can’t, guys.”

Sometimes, of course, the answer is “No, Mommy can’t because Mommy’s computer is broken and she has been waiting on hold for three hours to locate an actual human being who will help her fix it and Mommy may lose her mind if she hangs up now” (or even “No, Mommy needs to spend a few minutes staring at her Instagram feed because she needs a mental break from life”; that’s totally legit, too)…but other times? I think you put down the phone or the computer or the mop or the to-do list and just say “yes.” Not just for the kids; for yourself.


Accidents Happen

I have always been the kind of person who worries a lot about money, to the point where it's a preoccupation. Sure, a lot of this is because I've always had a job that comes along with significant uncertainty - I never know what the next year (or even the next month) of my life will look like, financially speaking - but still: for years and years (until pretty recently, actually), I made my life far more stressful than it had to be by putting off the decision to come up with an actual plan.

When things are going well - money's coming in, no major unexpected expenses are popping up - it's easy to sail along in a happy bubble of obliviousness; I know this first-hand, because I've spent a lot of time hanging out in that bubble. But then - inevitably - the bubble pops. And you find yourself in a world of pain.

As an example, I thought I'd tell a story I'm not sure I've ever touched upon here, even though I've certainly been asked about it plenty over the years. (Spoiler: it's about my dog. But stay with me; I'm going somewhere with this.)


Secrets From The South

My friend Mollie is the only person I have ever met who is capable of getting kicked out of a haunted house. You know those live-action haunted houses where you're supposed to scream and freak out? Where that's pretty much the point? Well, Mollie's reaction to being charged at by a child-sized vampire was apparently so very extreme and so very loud that the management was forced to turn the lights on - and speaking as a frequent haunted-house-goer and liberal screamer, let me assure you that this literally does not happen at these places, ever. And then they told her to leave, and to never come back again. She got blacklisted from a haunted house.  

Anyone capable of getting blacklisted from a haunted house is a person who I want to hang out with. Like all the time.