This year both my parents forgot my birthday, a ’la Sixteen Candles. I’m kind of caught between annoyed shock, maturely telling myself this development is NBD, or simply scraping the bottom of my fucks barrel, only to find I have no more left to give. All I know is that
LESS FUNNY SHIT FROM MIDDLE Middle called to tell me that Dad is having trouble swallowing his pills. This did not seem like a big deal to me. However, Middle knows a shit-ton about dementia, and so when her little-kid-again voice ghosted through the phone line, “It’s like now I
So here’s an embarrassing confession: In the midst of baby death and dementia and my own middle age, I’m actually kind of happy. My children are all in school full time this year. I worried about empty nest angst, or that I’d develop a laziness so severe I’d watch TV
Unloading groceries. House is empty, kids at school. Husband saunters by, discovers newly-bought cookies. Husband, shocked: “Cookies, Anne?” Sucks air between his teeth, eyeing them. “Naughty!” Me, eyebrow raised, best seductive voice: “Yes. I should be punished.” Husband, raising flirtatious eyebrow in return: “I will punish you…” Becomes serious. “…by throwing
Trigger warning: Stillbirth. Nope-out while you still can. # I don’t have great words to explain this. Little isn’t expecting a child anymore. She delivered stillborn last week. I spent Thursday to yesterday with her and her husband. It’s pretty horrible. I keep thinking in this dumbfounded shock, Little’s baby