Drew has started implementing safety standards for his own obedience. If he is about to spill his milk, again, on purpose, and he knows it — he can feel the drumbeat of compulsion rushing through his veins — he hands me his glass and says, “Here, Mommy, I gonna spill dis.” Even if it has…   read more

A couple of nights ago, I went to a jeans party. You’ve heard of Tupperware parties and Pampered Chef parties and jewelry parties and “toy” parties — mere child’s play, indeed. This was a no-nonsense, grown-up gathering of women who could have done many things with their evening that night. They could have read books,…   read more

Right before I gave birth to Thing One, a friend asked me to judge a beauty pageant. My friend is a former beauty queen herself, first runner-up Miss Texas to be exact. (She should have WON.) In college I was her piano accompanist when she would go around making appearances and singing. Most of the…   read more

A couple of weeks ago, my hairdresser broke up with me. I had been trying to find a way to end it myself, but she made it easy. It was the conclusion of a seven-year relationship, a relationship that was full of tenderness, sympathy, understanding – everything but monogrammed bath towels. We didn’t have the…   read more

When I was in college and (much more) immature, my roommates tried to convinced me to wear five padded bras all at once, one on top of the other, one night when I was going out. The impetus was a water bra I owned that had the most life-like inserts, which created the reverse of…   read more

Before you turn 30, swimsuit shopping can only have one of two possible effects: 1. Deep shame, self-flagellation and compulsive queso consumption. Or 2. Self-worship and quiet happy dances behind the dressing room curtain. There is no in-between. Swimsuits divide the heart, joints and marrow, revealing your true essence. Kind of like the Bible. Have…   read more

I apparently look like a woman who wants a boob job. Not a woman needing a boob job. Wanting one. I was at the gyno’s office this week for your favorite thing and mine, the pap smear. The baby doctor’s office is an elite club where to feel like a VIP you have to be…   read more

I am angry the first week in January when I visit the gym. Bothered. Here are all these new strangers on the machines, in new workout gear, fresh hangs of holiday flesh bulging in the Spandex unapologetically, and their faces sporting smug looks of cool determination as they monopolize the elliptical machines. MY elliptical machine,…   read more

Last week at our music class, Things One and Two and I met a skinny blonde lady who is the mother to five children — which she delivered without drugs — and is preggers with her sixth. Her SIXTH. That’s half-a-dozen, six-to-one, higher-than-Drew-can-count, bottom-wallopin’ SIX. And she was in skinny jeans, the wizardess. Did I…   read more

If there’s anything that improves with pregnancy, it’s the sense of smell. But if there’s anything that improves with delivering a baby, it’s the sense of hearing. I’ve actually awakened seconds BEFORE my babies started crying in the night, so acute were my ears. Which means by the time you’ve been discharged from the hospital…   read more