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The Unremarkable Saga of the Potential Half-Eaten Banana
Baby girl decided she needed a snack before bed tonight. She didn’t want any more of the soup we had for dinner. She didn’t want a sandwich, or one of her Easter eggs. What she wanted was a dark chocolate cookie with dark chocolate filling. I can’t say that I blame her, but she’s been…
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Why I Hate the Goddess Phenomenon, or, How to be More than Just a Yoni
There used to be kind of a running joke between me and my friends: “Ape is the goddess of everything.” Hardly a unique thought, not even clever, but it was tongue-in-cheek and injected a little bit of silliness into life’s most heartbreaking and tragic situations. “What do you mean they’re out of cheese danish? Don’t…
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Where the Hell is Lisa’s Car? Or, How My Kid Kicked Prepositional Ass
There’s a special kind of magic in homeschooling your kids. The closeness you feel as you sit side-by-side reading, the glee that bubbles over along with the lava that pours out from the homemade volcano, the omifuckinggod what was I thinking that goes along with trying to teach anything that isn’t 100% logic-based and static…
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The Pissed-Off Cat Theory of Autism and Education
Take one already cranky cat. Pull its tail until it tries to bite you. Stuff it in a small crate. Spray it with water. Dangle a hot dog in front of its nose, just out of its reach. Spray it again. A bunch, like, till it looks like it got caught in a rain storm.…
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Taking Down the Suburban Teenage Bicycle Mafia
We were victimized recently, no doubt part of a much larger crime spree going on right under our very noses in our quiet little suburban town. Beloved’s bicycle was stolen from our front yard sometime in the past couple days. You know what kind of people steal bikes from people’s yards? Not very nice ones.…
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Autism and Oatmeal
My son, thing one, is 13 and has autism-Asperger syndrome, to be exact. Now this isn’t one of those Poor Me posts, or Look How Much I’m Doing for My Wonderful but Challenging Child, or some shit like that. He’s only called autistic because he needed some therapies, and they weren’t covered without an official…
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Attack of the Baby Mutant Cows
I have a confession: I am a meanie. Not a small-time, eat-your-vegetables meanie, but a big time, mafia-grade, clean-your-room meanie. I was informed of this fact today, and not for the first time. My kids are usually pretty good about chores. They know what their jobs are, and they do them when they’re asked to,…
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The Dog Ate My… What?
Don’t let that sweet face fool you-behind those big eyes and the cute fuzzy mohawk is a fetish that’s ruining my life. Mutt has settled in pretty well in the week and a half since we brought him home. He’s conquered his initial shyness and now darts around the house like a weasel on meth,…
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April Fox 