Who Gets to Tell Your Kid’s Story?
I hated when my mother would talk about me to her friends when I was a kid. Hated it. Even the most bland of stories, like, say, that I was playing little league again that spring would infuriate me. And I know she shared way more about me than my pre-teen baseball career to her friends and family. Hated it. As if she knew anything about me whatsoever. As if my challenges and wins and all-inclusive experiences—as if my life—were her story to tell.
Mommy Shaming
Whenever I left her in another’s care I was weighted down with excessive guilt because I know the pain this kid can unleash. But she only does it to me. And I couldn’t stop wondering why?
Mommy shaming. That’s why.
Notes from the Post-it Wall — Week of August 26, 2018
John McCain was a genius. And he was loyal to his party. So much so that he died the same day as the Jacksonville shooting so we’d talk about his death instead of gun control. Genius.
Christmas is a time for giving, being with family and friends, and hating every other asshole out there in the shops and on the roads also trying to spread joy and share in the Christmas spirit. Similarly, Hanukkah is a time for Jewish people to desperately try to feel relevant during Christmastime.