All The Ways I’ve Judged Parents…

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When we’re young, we look around and all we see are all the ways that parents are screwing up. It starts in adolescence when we feel those first sharp pangs of independence. We need to distance ourselves from our families, so we tell ourselves that our parents are big assholes because they won’t let us have all our friends over...


I Didn’t Do It.

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For years, I’ve been telling my husband that I have a knack for finding myself in the wrong place at the wrong time. In some cases, I put myself in situations that are perfectly innocent or just, yet appear inappropriate or shady to an outsider. Like stopping to help a little old lady carry her groceries across the street, when...


Lawsuit Settled.

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“The parties have entered into a settlement agreement which has resolved all claims and controversies to their mutual satisfaction.”


The Plot Thickens…

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You know what I’m looking forward to? Never having to post update about this lawsuit ever again. It has turned into such a convoluted clusterfuck that it’s become very easy for her side to develop their own entirely different narrative for what’s transpired. Every time I see her cronies drumming up some armchair legal analysis, it sounds like a teenager...


Lawsuit Update.

This post is for those who are following The Case. All others can ignore. Last time I updated, the court had not only dismissed at least three motions the plaintiff filed against me, but also came back with the initial opinion that the entire case “lacked merit” and could be dismissed unless she could provide some compelling reason not to....


The Unbearable Lightness of Being (a Toddler)

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A few weeks ago, I saw this flow chart called “How to Tell if Your Toddler is Mad.” The punchline was essentially that there was only one question and one answer. Is your toddler awake? Then congratulations, your toddler is mad. WHAT is with this age? It’s happened to all of my little lover monkeys. They start out as these...


I LOVE Being a Redhead. I HATE Being a Redhead.

That's my hair. Every last strand. No dye. No photoshop.

I am a redhead. A real, 100% all natural, not from a bottle, Hair-On-Fire Redhead. This fact has caused me an incredibly confusing mix of both pain and pride beginning with my earliest memories. Kids picked on my red hair like crazy in school. They called me “fire crotch” and “carrot top” and told me they should “beat” me “like...