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Overheard- Playground Edition
As the self-appointed Margaret Mead of the playground set for the last decade, one of my true delights is listening to the conversation. Yesterday I beheld one of the most confusing, yet common, patterns seen in the late 30 something toddler mom, the not-so-subtle dig. “I think I know you from [blah blah hiking trail].”
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Nailed It
Today, in a panic, I found my eleven year old’s jazz shoes (that she needed in eleven minutes and that were unavailable to replace within 60 miles) stuffed in a closed purse in her two year old sister’s closet, and no one will ever know nor acknowledge how fucking awesome I am. Fuck yeah. Nailed
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The Laundry Chute
When I walked by the chute, the Thoughts would start: “You are going to do it. You are going to do it. You are going to put her down there.” The house had a laundry chute. “I know what this is!” my husband exclaimed from the bathroom, the day we moved in. My daughter, at nine, was
Life, with a heavy pour of irreverence.
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About the Author
Katie, people-watcher, verbal vomiter and psychological yenta, ironically holds professional roles that dictate equanimity. She maintains this blog so as to not explode. Read full bio.
Dr. Ruth's Daughter 