I recently joked about how M was getting dangerously close to our country's seats of power, but I think the photo below -- taken this past Wednesday -- indicates that Jamie may now be pulling ahead in the Sweetney clan's arms race-like efforts to pierce the inner sanctum of Washington's elite (which is kind of 'Step 1' in our whole RULING THE WUURRRRLLDD!!!! plan) (it's a work-in-progress): The Brookings Institution...
Jamie went to southwest Texas last week to become infested with deadly pig pestilences and henceforth be known as Maryland's "Patient Zero" attend the Marfa Film Festival, which as I understand it is sort of like summer camp for A/V nerds. Good times. Anyway, if Jamie's total dorkness was ever in question, the photos our friend Justin took during their stay in Marfa serve to lay any and all doubts...
Me: So tomorrow morning you can have some of these chocolate chip waffles. Her: What if I don't like them? Me: M, you'll like them. They're chocolate chip waffles. Her: But what if I don't? Me: Then we'll have to return you, because you're clearly defective. Her: Mom. You can't return me. Me: Are you sure? Because I think I remember a chocolate chip waffle clause that would allow us...
The Bring Your Daughter To Work day portrait: Sparkly pink Converse ballet flats: that's how we roll, holmes. (Also of note here: that purple bag she's holding is a prototype for a line made by my Aunt's company TerraCycle, which fashions everything it sells from recycled materials (like those juice pouches), but is perhaps best known for their fine worm poop products (no, seriously, their fertilizers are made from worm...
From the time that M was a baby up through her preschool years, I was, in her eyes -- and I hope you won't think me arrogant for saying so -- kind of a big deal. I suppose it's true for many babies and very young children that Mommy is the center of the known universe, and doubly true when the mother elects to stay at home with her child...
All day, like many of you, I've been thinking about one thing. And all day I've hesitated to write about it. But putting words to things is who I am, and I can't not be who I am. So. I'm not a good friend of the Spohrs, and I didn't closely follow the progress of their daughter Maddie, lost to them just a few short hours ago. Heather is someone...
SAD FACE.Well, to look on the bright side of things, it could be worse: MUCH MUCH WORSE. During our soul-crushing 50 gajillion hour visit to the ER yesterday I came to the sad conclusion that in real life the ER is SO not at all sexy like on those sexy doctor shows (you know, like "Sexy ER" and "Sexy House." Oh and let's not forget "Grey's Sexy Anatomy."). In fact,...
Struggling with depression again as I have been a bit lately, I've come to finally accept something about myself: I really don't possess the selflessness necessary for this being-a-mother thing. (And yes, I know I swore off harping on motherhood here, but it's my life and my blog and I'll do what I want and suck it.) Depression has magnified this lack, I think. Or perhaps I'm just more aware...
M: "Mom! MOM!!!" Me: "Yeeesss?" M: "Did you know that the first people ever borned, the first humans, that they were ANIMALS?" Me: "Uhh...we're still animals." M: [nervous, uncertain laughter] Me: "We evolved. From other animals that lived before us. We're sort of like... monkeys. LIKE SUPER MONKEYS." Evolution 101. Super Monkeys. Tell your friends.
Yesterday afternoon, during the drive home from school: Her: I want to get my friend J something special for Valentines Day. Me: Oh really? Like what? Her: Like... a box shaped like a heart full of chocolate. Or some Transformers. Me: [Grinning] Well, either of those could be good. Chocolate or Transformers is good. Her: Yeah. I want to give him a present and a special card and a poem....
I'm a geeky Gen-X writer from Baltimore. I believe in early afternoon cocktails, the greatness of Jon Stewart, and that being a smartass is a virtue. More about me...