I am a mom.

I am not a zombie.

I subsist on caffeine and five hours of sleep.

I am nearly a decade into a second marriage. 

I tend to both a teen girl and a toddler girl.

Are you understanding the mom-zombie part yet?

One girl was born in the West, the other girl was born in the East. 

One came after 8 hours of labor, the other following a 6,000-mile flight.

My home is ruled by two cats: one that knows it’s a cat and one that thinks he’s a human. Neither are very good at cleaning up after themselves. In fact, no one is in this house.

I am a recovering workaholic, OCD perfectionist.

I worked for 18 years in the newspaper business as a writer and copy editor.  Try as I may, I cannot wash the ink from my hands.

I trying to find my way in the world as a stay-at-home mother.

I’ve been accused of being ‘fanatical’ about the White Stripes.

Some folks think I’m funny. But they’re all in residential treatment programs right now and unavailable for comment. Should I be concerned?


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"It's not the tragedies that kill us, it's the messes." --Dorothy Parker
September 2019
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