In preparation for the Mardi Gras celebration at my daughter’s
school, I found myself blowing up festive balloons in purple, green and gold
for a giant balloon drop. Who doesn’t love balloons, right?
Me, that’s who. In fact I hate them. It goes beyond hate. I’m
mildly terrified of them. Watching someone rub a balloon on their head and
stick it on the wall fills me with panic.
It’s an irrational fear that stems back to childhood when I watched
one of those giant punching balloons explode on my babysitter’s face as she
In preparation for an upcoming family weekend at an indoor
water park, I made a bold move. I found my bikini tucked in the back of the
drawer and put it on—in the dead of winter. Brave!
Shockingly, my pasty-white reflection in the mirror didn’t
cause me to run screaming from the bathroom and into the first pair of
sweatpants I could find. A month of hard training for a half-marathon has
created definition in muscles I didn’t even know I had. Instead of cringing, I
So why then, am I reluctant to wear said ...
When my husband and I decided to leave sunny
Colorado and head back to our roots in the Midwest, we were prepared for tough
winters. I, however, was not prepared to suffer through the coldest, snowiest
winter in 20 years.
This morning I determined the only way to get
through the remaining weeks of this awful winter is to dream of summer.
Summertime by Lake Michigan is pure heaven. On the drive to school today, my
daughter and I started a list of things we want to do this summer. Our list had
the usual summer fun like the fair ...
Last week I let a woman who reminded me of my grandmother
get to second base. It was my first time so I was nervous, but she was a pro.
In fact her cheerful manner as she squished my breasts into
the mammogram machine actually may have made the entire experience less awkward
than the first time I was felt up—at age 15.
What made the day even more memorable is that not more than
an hour before my topless experience, I was deep into my first-ever therapy
session. If I had added a colonoscopy to the day, I ...
Each day I leave my nice, cushy neighborhood to drive across
town to my daughter’s school. It is an 18-minute lesson in gratitude and guilt.
The route is nearly equal parts churches, daycares,
convenience stores, bars and boarded up buildings. People wait for busses in
clothing not nearly warm enough for the subzero temps. It is a daily reminder
that my upper-middle class life is one of privilege.
Because my freelance work allows me flexibility, I regularly
spend time in my daughter’s classroom. I have the privilege of seeing her
teacher in action, of seeing the children learn ...