Every so often my dad sends me something in the mail, I think because it then gives him an excuse to call and ask if I got the thing he sent. (He doesn't need that excuse. But anyway.) He called yesterday and we chatted for a bit, our conversation the twenty-somethingth iteration of "Tell me what's new and exciting" met with "Well, staying home continues to be very adventuresome, and this week we only watched Hamilton twice!" But before we said our goodbyes, Dad reminded me that my last blog post was from over a month ago and surely I had something I could be writing about. I always have...
Apparently we're all supposed to be panicking about coronavirus and stockpiling supplies for the inevitable quarantine we'll all be under in very short order. As I already buy toilet paper by the case because I'm cheap, and because I'm asthmatic but also sort of a hermit, I find that freaking out about our eventual mass demise isn't occupying nearly enough of my time. Instead I am forced to burn daylight in other ways, which is fine because I like to consider myself a multitasker. These diversions may not work for you, but I share because I care. Use or don't. All I can tell you is that it's...
If you give a Mir a house with a basement, eventually the basement will experience catastrophic flooding, and everything will be terrible, and she will be sad and rent a dumpster and throw away tons and tons of ruined things. If she throws away tons of stuff, you'd think it would be easy the next year to pack up what's left and move 1,000 miles away, but---amazingly---she still has a ton of stuff and it takes forever. If it takes forever, once she moves she will actually be relieved to end up buying a house which has no basement at all, because no basement means she cannot 1) fill it with...
You may or may not recall that every few years my father and stepmother gather up their collective children and grandchildren and take us all somewhere to sit around eating ourselves silly and telling embarrassing stories about the past. It's magical. My little nuclear family missed the last trip (which was three years ago) for Reasons and so this is our first time all together in five years. In preparation I went back and read my posts from the very first trip, which was a cruise, so it was fresh in my mind that when the cousins first met, Gerber had just turned one, Banana was a painfully...
February sucks. Everyone agrees that February sucks, yes? I am well aware of the February suckage, and so because I am a fairly self-aware and productive human who has been in therapy for most of her life (wheeeeee!), each and every February when things get hard I keep reminding myself: "February always sucks. This is normal. Just keep going, because this is a short month." That's good, right? I mean, I always feel really proud of myself while I'm doing that. No matter how long a person with depression deals with depression, one common feature of said depression (how many times can I say...
If pressed, I am going to tell you that the best two days of my life were when my kids were born. (If pressed further---and/or if Otto is there---I will slot my wedding to him in a very close third place.) Bringing forth new life and the miracle of birth and oh hey ALSO having two human beings grow from screaming lumps into semi-functional adults is pretty nifty, not gonna lie. So let us assume that those are the "best" two days of my life, okay? THAT SAID, the last few weeks of my life contain two notable events which are giving my children a run for their money. Not only that, but my...
Listen, I understand that genetics are complicated and sometimes recessive genes do funky things and all of that, but I've recently made a horrifying discovery about my offspring. I'm not the tidiest person in the world, not by a long shot---I tend to have tidy areas of the house and then a few small dumping grounds (see also: my desk, my bathroom counter). It's been a lifelong (their lives, not mine) struggle to be okay with a certain amount of mess in my kids' rooms, because that's their own space and there's a line between "my standards" and "health hazard" and they have to both avoid...
Look at me, not waiting a whole month to write again. It's almost like I'm going back to being a blogger, or something. WEIRD. The impetus for this is simple: Life was boring, boring, boring... right up until it wasn't. And when people start saying things to me like "Oh, Mir, that could only happen to YOU," I figure that means it's ridiculous enough to share, because why should I hog all the fun? I should not. Perhaps nothing dramatic is happening in your life, in which case: YAY YOU! But I have some drama to spare, and I'm a good sharer. ALSO, after 3 weeks of back and forth with our...
Yesterday, my WIDDLE TINY BAYBEE BOY turned 17. This is impossible, of course, because in my mind's eye he is still 3 or 4, tops, running through the house with his blankie tied around his neck as a cape, so that he can exercise his full power as SuperBoy. I realize this is ridiculous, as he has been neither tiny nor SuperBoy for years. These days, he runs through the house screeching like the mighty eagle he purports to be (I cannot explain this), and his wingspan is mighty and I do not remember eagles having scruffy goatees, but YOU ARE DEFINITELY GROUNDED. He submitted his senior quote...
