I Would Like To Be A Brain In A Jar On A Robot Body

On the drive home from dropping the kids off at my in-laws for the afternoon, I was talking to my best friend on the phone. We were catching up after not having spoken for a while, like you do when you’ve both had a bunch of babies.

“How’re the kids?”

“What have you guys been doing lately?”

“Are you excited about X/Y/Z?”

I asked about her sister-in-law, who underwent transplant surgery recently. She is thriving, and we both marveled over modern medicine. How crazy it was that she was alive because another person’s organ was hers now. We got talking about the endless possibilities for medical advancements in our lifetime.

So I asked her if she ever remembers that she’s going to die one day and freaks the hell out for a minute.

What? Just me? Cool. Continue reading

No, I Haven’t Lost The Baby Weight. Yes, I Bought a Bikini.

We are a few days out from a week at the beach with a ton of friends and family for my sister’s destination wedding. There was a time in my life, albeit brief and hungover, when I enjoyed the beach. When I was a teenager, I was crazy self conscious and wouldn’t wear anything more scandalous than jeans. Picture a fully-clothed, sulking sixteen-year-old girl with her headphones on, walking up and down the shoreline until she was allowed to go back inside to air conditioning and snacks without a sand garnish.

Then there was a minute in my early twenties when I could handle it. I felt like a babe. I only really needed to bring a book and a blanket with me. And I was an adult and in charge of my own life, so I could retreat when I felt too sweaty.

With kids, things changed. Kids tend to do that to pretty much everything. Not only was I lugging a shit ton of stuff to keep my children entertained and fed and safe and not sunburnt, I had gone right for the standard black one-piece bathing suit of moms everywhere. It’s basically the white flag of “I am lumpy now.”

That bathing suit is washed and ready to pack in my bag at 3am the night before we leave because I know enough to know I will never learn to plan ahead and pack early. But I also have an alternative ready to go. It’s still black. But it’s a bikini. Continue reading


I can’t think of what to write about. My brain is frying out. So it’s time for a Currently post to clear out some of the junk.

Doing: Staying afloat. Adam has been away for the last week. In that time, I have had two sick kids, one with a fever that resulted in a trip to the ER, our AC went on the fritz and it is hot as balls here in Maryland, Halligan has been waking up earlier and earlier than the butt crack of dawn every morning, and the cats and dog have managed to eat an entire container of baby formula, covering my kitchen floor in a sticky film, and then puked up that formula all over the living room. Continue reading

It’s My Party And I’ll Adult If and Only If I Feel Like It, You Jerks.

The story here is short. The internet had a wave of “I don’t want to adult today. Don’t make me adult,” ish.

Everyone was like “Hehehe adulting, amiright?”

Later, some people were too cool for friggin’ school and wanted to bitch about “Adult is not a verb. Grow up and get a job, lazy millennials.”

And then they jerked-off in their parent’s basement to their own high school senior portraits.

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We Are All Shitty Parents

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My one-year old started walking less than two months ago. She liked walking for about five minutes, but she grew bored with it fast. She prefers running, arms up, screaming, in a full-on E.T. impersonation. She tears through the world, and I’m constantly having to snatch her up when she gets too close to the road. Last week, she was shrieking with joy down the sidewalk, when she tripped on some uneven pavement. She scraped her knee and had a bump on her forehead. At one year, you know your kid’s cries. There’s the cry when she’s tired. The fake-cry when she wants my attention. And the gut-wrenching cry when she is in pain.

I could have prevented this. I could have kept her on the grass. I could have kept her inside. I could have held her unwilling and independent hand through every step. She wouldn’t be bumped or bruised or bleeding. But she wouldn’t be enjoying the world around her like she should be. Bumps and bruises happen. You get them when you run around like a crate of Pixy Stix in human form. You get them when you’re so overcome with the joy of being a kid that you don’t notice a bump in the ground beneath your unsteady feet.

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Thank God There is Cake Because I Need to Eat My Feelings

It’s 11:59pm and I should have been asleep a long time ago. Life at the NPW house has been busier than usual, for reasons I’ll explain in a post soon. Because of this, sleep has been at an absolute minimum. I sat in a chair to do some quick meal planning for the week today, and about a minute into it, slumped over and fell asleep with my head in my hand. I should really be asleep right now.

This is the last minute that Halligan is a baby. It actually took me longer than one minute to write that intro, so that last minute came and went. But I wanted to document this moment a little. I’ve been mourning this passing in her life for a while now; something I did with August and I’m sure I’ll do with any babies I have in the future because I produce enormous children. The looming cloud of toddlerdom has been hanging over our heads for some time, because she has felt much closer to being a toddler than a baby for months.

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The last picture I have of her in there.
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And out.

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American Airlines Can Go Suck an Egg at Their Check-In Counter at the Charleston Airport

As promised, here is the story of what followed our beautiful and relaxing vacation in Turks and Caicos.

After eating lunch with our friends, soaking up the gorgeous view of the beach in front of us, Adam and I took a taxi to the airport. We were taking a less than three hour plane on American Airlines to Charlotte, and after a small layover, hopping on a flight back to Baltimore. We would land in Baltimore just before midnight, drive home, and then pick the kids up from Adam’s parents when we woke up.

The airport in TC was pretty small, and prices for food were huge. Island prices PLUS airport prices are how you find a $7 bag of Combos. So we decided to wait until we landed in Charlotte to grab something to eat. I figured I would buy some snacks on the flight if I got really hungry. But once we were in the air and the flight attendants were coming around with drinks, we found out that they hadn’t stocked the plane with food, even though they advertise flights longer than two hours as having snacks available for purchase. They didn’t even have pretzels or anything that were given to us on our flights out. Alright, we would just wait until we landed.

As we approached Charlotte, our pilot told us we were having some “weather,” and were waiting to get clearance to land. We circled the airport for over an hour. Then, because we were running low on fuel, we were redirected to Charleston. We would refuel, then head back to Charlotte.

After we landed in Charleston, we waited. And waited. Adam finished his book. I finished my book. I started reading Adam’s book. Airplane wifi and inflight entertainment don’t work when you’re not up in the air. We were in line to get fuel, because apparently a few other flights had been sent here for the same reason. So we waited some more. And waited. It was late at night, we had more than missed our connecting flight, so I called the airline to make sure we would have a hotel room covered when we finally deplaned. I was told we would be given vouchers at the ticket desk. Fine.

After four hours (FOUR HOURS) sitting on the tarmac, we were told that there was a limit to how long an airplane can be used before it needs to take a break. So we were finally let off the plane after over eight hours of sitting on a less than three hour flight. Legally, an airline is not allowed to hold you on a plan that is going nowhere for more than three hours. And after two hours, they have to provide adequate food and drink. During that time, we didn’t receive food or water, and the bathrooms ran out of toilet paper. Shortly before we moved to the gate, we received small cups of water and a little cookie “from the emergency cookie stash.” My eyes were rolling so aggressively that they almost left my head and rolled down the aisle.

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