Camps – Tales From a WOHM
I have been a full-time work-out-of-the-home mother for almost six years, so you would think I have it all under control by now.
sarcasm
The dishes can wait and other lies
“They’re only young once.”
The words are superimposed on an idyllic picture of a child in nature or a beach with footprints leading to the horizon. There’s always a hazy filter. The bottom caption implores you to leave a counter full of dirty dishes, to eschew housework, to be present for your children for they will grow up before your very eyes. We are reminded that no one has ever said they wish they had spent more time doing housework, and less time with the kids.
That’s not lemonade
I keep a spreadsheet of ideas to write about, and like most of my organizational efforts it alternates between organized within an nth of its life, and completely forgotten about as I wing it. So when I went to look at the spreadsheet this morning and saw, “That’s Not Lemonade” listed, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to know.
Hemp Milk and Ovaltine
In the oft-complained about mommy wars, I am Switzerland. I have opinions, but they swing back and forth between crunchy and mainstream, landing somewhere outside of either.
Semi-lucid thoughts of a sleep deprived mother.
I haven’t slept for more than three straight hours in eight months. I’m being held together through sheer force of will, caffeine, and napping in toilet stalls. Sometimes I forget what I’m doing – while I’m doing it. Why am I in the kitchen and why is the cat in the refrigerator? Did I say cat? I meant toothbrush. Sometimes I mix up words. I have a yoga mat in my office that is only used for corpse pose.
I’m mostly doing a decent job of being a person who is, you know… awake. But there are some things that I am just not capable of dealing with right now.