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.
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.
Me: Lorelei, get your toys or whatever you want to play with outside, and let’s go.
Lorelei: I don’t need any of that stuff, mom. I’m going to exercise! That is my thing that I am going to do every day of this new year!
I am one of the lucky ones. Privileged. I’m reminded of this as I begin a post in which I am going to lament, bitch, whine, and rant about the lack of adequate paid family leave in this country.
A couple of new posts are up on rowan.small.and.mighty. He’s been pretty sick with RSV/Bronchiolitis.
It is frankly astonishing that child protective services never showed up at my front door to question my parents.
Saying I love weather is like saying I love breathing, it’s part of who I am, and has been for as long as I can remember. There is a home video from Christmas ’89 where I am playing in the snow, making snowballs, and generally being a kid – then I suddenly look up at the camera and with the authority of a meteorologist I state, “this is the first white Christmas in New Bern since 1898.” Then I go back to playing.