See the original written post, Frenemies. If you are enjoying the content; words, audio or video, please share or subscribe at the bottom of the page.
Excerpt: I think the most complicated relationships are between women. I say this because I am a woman and I can’t even figure out how I think half the time, let alone what most normal women think. I also don’t have a lot of women in my life that I am close with, I have always gravitated toward the dudes. Even as a little girl I watched the game with the men instead of hanging around the food with the women at family gatherings. I think the easiest explanation for this is that I think in very black and white terms and I lead with my head rather than my heart which is common for males.
See the original written post, Just Call Me Helen If you are enjoying the content; words, audio or video, please share or subscribe at the bottom of the page.
Excerpt: I was at a party and a woman whom I have known for a few years walked over with her husband and introduced me as “Kathy”. I corrected her (of course) and we both laughed at how bad we are with names, but for a minute my ego got a little inflamed. It jumped up with it’s big peacock feathers screaming “don’t you know who I am?” and then I remembered that as I was approaching her I was struggling to remember her name, which by all accounts should have been a piece of cake since she shares a name with my Grandmother! Oh ego, you little beast. Of course everyone should know my name. Meanwhile I have walked by the same woman daily for a year saying hello but never calling her by name because I may not have been listening when she told it to me, or I may have never asked her for it to begin with.
See the original written post, Demons. If you are enjoying the content; words, audio or video, please share or subscribe at the bottom of the page.
Excerpt: I went to a funeral yesterday for a twenty four year old woman. I think everyone would agree this is far too young to die. It was not mentioned in her obituary or at the funeral how she died, only that she died suddenly. “Suddenly”, it’s the code word for in a tragic way that we don’t want to talk about. I get it. If my daughter died because her demons finally won, I don’t know if I could put into words what killed her. I would want her to be remembered for the good she brought to the world, not for how she left it. I don’t know what I would feel if I had to say good bye to my child because the demons won even after we all fought so hard. I don’t even want to think about that kind of pain.What is so horrific to me is that this woman’s parents had to choose their words in writing an obituary that they never should have had to write. They had to swallow whatever rage and despair they felt for what took their daughter out of their lives forever because it wasn’t some socially acceptable disease like cancer. No matter the cause of death, it wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t her family’s fault, it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
See the original written post, Thank God My Daughter is a Velma. If you are enjoying the content; words, audio or video, please share or subscribe at the bottom of the page.
Excerpt: The other morning while my daughter and I were rocking out to the Hex Girls in the car she pointed out that the song was from the Scooby Doo episode where Daphne was really jealous because Fred was giving the Hex Girls attention. She said “wasn’t that silly Mama, Daphne thought Fred liked the Hex Girls more than her!” I wanted to tell her that of course Fred would be a fool not to like the Hex Girls more than Daphne, but I was a good Mom and stuck to the lesson plan.
See the original written post, I Can Do Hard Things. If you are enjoying the content; words, audio or video, please share or subscribe at the bottom of the page.
Excerpt: Have you ever met someone who seems to be good at everything they do? Pediatrician by day, chef in the evening, pro tennis player on the weekends and super model at every charity event you see her at. Yeah, that bitch! And you can’t even call her a bitch because she isn’t. She is a good friend, the Mom you call when your kid needs a place to hang out after school for a few hours and the neighbor who calls to tell you how sorry she is when she hears your cat died. I am not her, not even close. I come home from work most days and look in the refrigerator with confusion about how my husband can build an actual meal out of the contents, I fall down chasing my daughter playing a game of tag and I arrived an hour late to the last charity event I attended because I had spent the prior two hours rummaging through my closet reminding myself why it’s a good idea to try on dresses before I buy them.
See the original written post, Sugar Junkie If you are enjoying the content; words, audio or video, please share or subscribe at the bottom of the page.
Excerpt: My husband is a sugar junkie through and through. Last night at the gym he decided it was a good idea make a stop at Whole Foods on the way home for some cookies from the bakery. When it was determined that neither of us had a wallet, he devised a plan whereby he would use his gym card to buy all kinds of wholesome goodies and take them to Whole Foods where he would find someone using a Bridge Card to pay for their purchases and trade them the previously purchased goodies for a ton of cookies. I pointed out that only a true junkie would find a way to get his sugar and make sure it was paid for by the government. Being the voice of reason that I am, we drove home after the gym and did not try to negotiate any illegal sugar trading in the Whole Foods bakery. Gotta say though, it was tempting.
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