Hello Mr.Computer Teacher!
My son stormed through the front door after school the other day, tossed his backpack down and as he kicked off his shoes he glared at me and announced, “I’m really mad at you, Mom.” I looked at him and quickly ran through any possibilities of why he would come home and suddenly announce he was angry with me in my head. In the last 48 hours I had a.) eaten all of the chocolate bars in the Halloween stash after he specifically asked me not to b.) ignored the Do Not Enter MOM sign pinned on his door to plow through his private sanctum looking for hidden pieces of dirty laundry while taking time to snoop through his comic book collection for signs of girly ma

Just Call Me Tits McGee
This summer, as I was sweltering at my uncle’s funeral, with rivulets of sweat trickling between my breasts and making my boobs itchy, Opportunity knocked at my door. There I was, discreetly trying scratch the itch away, not realizing no matter how discreet I thought I was, I was still sitting in a torn folding lawn chair parked next to a broken RV trailer sitting on wooden blocks, scratching at my boobs like a monkey in a zoo. There is no accounting for Opportunity’s timing. Nor is there, as my parents would like to point out, any accounting for how I always manage to be that one chick sitting there scratching her tits in public.

It Takes A Real Woman To Look Like A Man
Last week my entire family was struck by the plague. Which is why this here little blog sat quiet and empty for so long. I was too busy mopping up puke and doling out Tylenol to the feverish masses to try and write. I’ve been asked if it was the dreaded Swine Flu that struck my family with such a heavy blow, but truth be told, I was too busy shivering and trying to stop the jack hammer trapped inside my head to bundle up my family to take them to the doctor and find out. In the end, it doesn’t matter which virus it was, we all survived it and my children learned a valuable life lesson. They now know that if they puke on the floor they are old enough to wi

How To Piss Your Friend Off
After the dismal week this week has proven to be, I decided to cut myself some slack and abandon ship. I’m handing over the parental reigns to the first adult who knocks on my door, whether it be a stranger, my sister, or my husband and I’m fleeing the province. It’s mutiny by choice around here; even my kids are sick of looking at me. That’s not saying a lot since my kids are always sick of looking at me though. Must have something to do with the fact I am always up in their faces telling them what to do. I am trying not to examine that relation of cause and effect too deeply. Instead, I’m focusing my energy on heading to Vancouver to h

Life and Death
On this day, October 21, six years ago, a child was born. He was small, no bigger than the palm of a small woman’s hand, weighing slightly more than a few feathers. His entrance to the world was too soon, too abrupt, unexpected. He fought to live. On this day, October 21, four years ago, a different child died. He too was small for his almost five years, weighing no more than a few good sized rocks. His departure from this world was too soon, too abrupt, unexpected. His fight for life was over. I’ve written and rewritten this post over in my head from the moment I learned Jumby’s birthday fell on Shalebug’s death day early on in the ado